122 BIRDS AND POETS 



could hardly have managed her " High Tide " with- 

 out "Whitefoot" and "Lightfoot" and "Cusha! 

 Cusha! Cusha! calling;" or Trowbridge his "Even- 

 ing at the Farm," in which the real call of the 

 American farm-boy of "Co', boss! Co', boss! Co', 

 Co'," makes a very musical refrain. 



Tennyson's charming "Milking Song" is another 

 flower of poesy that has sprung up in my divinity's 

 footsteps. 



What a variety of individualities a herd of cows 

 presents when you have come to know them all, 

 not only in form and color, but in manners and dis- 

 position! Some are timid and awkward, and the 

 butt of the whole herd. Some remind you of deer. 

 Some have an expression in the face like certain 

 persons you have known. A petted and well-fed 

 cow has a benevolent and gracious look; an ill- 

 used and poorly-fed one, a pitiful and forlorn look. 

 Some cows have a masculine or ox expression ; others 

 are extremely feminine. The latter are the ones for 

 milk. Some cows will kick like a horse; some 

 jump fences like deer. Every herd has its ring- 

 leader, its unruly spirit, — one that plans all the 

 mischief, and leads the rest through the fences into 

 the grain or into the orchard. This one is usually 

 quite different from the master spirit, the "boss of 

 the yard." The latter is generally the most peace- 

 ful and law-abiding cow in the lot, and the least 

 buUying and quarrelsome. But she is not to be 

 trifled with ; her will is law ; the whole herd give 

 way before her, those that have crossed horns with 



