WAYS OF NATURE 



the bird had probably heard the song and learned 

 it while very young. In the Trossachs, in Scotland, 

 I followed a song thrush about for a long time, at- 

 tracted by its peculiar song. It repeated over and 

 over again three or four notes of a well-known air, 

 which it might have caught from some shepherd 

 boy whistling to his flock or to his cow. 



The songless birds — why has Nature denied 

 them this gift ? But they nearly all have some musi- 

 cal call or impulse that serves them very well. The 

 quail has his whistle, the woodpecker his drum, the 

 pewee his plaintive cry, the chickadee his exqui- 

 sitely sweet call, the highhole his long, repeated 

 " wick, wick, wick," one of the most welcome sounds 

 of spring, the jay his musical gurgle, the hawk his 

 scream, the crow his sturdy caw. Only one of our 

 pretty birds of the orchard is reduced to an all but 

 inaudible note, and that is the cedar-bird. 



