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8 WAKE-ROBIN 
the long, rich note of the meadowlark, — the whis- 
tle of the quail, — the drumming of the partridge, 
— the animation and loquacity of the swallows, 
and the like. Even the hen has a homely, con- 
tented carol; and I credit the owls with a desire 
to fill the night with music. All birds are incipi- 
ent or would-be songsters in the spring. I find 
corroborative evidence of this even in the crowing 
of the cock. The flowering of the maple is not so 
obvious as that of the magnolia; nevertheless, there 
is actual inflorescence. 
Few writers award any song to that familiar little 
sparrow, the Socialts ; yet who that has observed 
him sitting by the wayside, and repeating, with 
devout attitude, that fine sliding chant, does not 
recognize the neglect? Who has heard the snow- 
bird sing? Yet he has a lisping warble very savory 
to the ear. JI have heard him indulge in it even in 
February. 
Even the cow bunting feels the musical tendency, 
and aspires to its expression, with the rest. Perched 
upon the topmost branch beside his mate or mates, 
—for he is quite a polygamist, and usually has two 
or three demure little ladies in faded black beside 
him, — generally in the early part of the day, he 
seems literally to vomit up his notes. Apparently 
with much labor and effort, they gurgle and blub- 
ber up out of him, falling on the ear with a pecul- 
iar subtile ring, as of turning water from a glass 
bottle, and not without a certain pleasing cadence. 
Neither is the common woodpecker entirely in- 
