226 NATURE SKETCHES IN TEMPERATE AMERICA 



'-^ The Morning Troubadour 



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TROLLING along the country 

 road about seven o'clock one 



■r > July morning, I was held spell- 



,■ „/ bound by some bird music which seemed to 

 come from several directions at the same time. 

 Beside the road on one side was a grove of high 

 trees; on the other, an apple orchard. The music did not 

 seem to come from either side. Finally I perceived the author 

 of the pretty strains almost overhead, circling far above, with 

 quivering wings, seeming to mount higher and higher with each 

 musical inspiration. In that lofty altitude, free from the 

 cares of the world, the varied song seemed to indicate a jovial 

 outpouring of sentiment rare even among^ the feathered ones. 



After I had peered aloft at this master of exquisite song for 

 several moments, I discovered, as the bird descended in looping 

 flights, that it was a goldfinch. I had seen birds of this species 

 nesting some distance away, but I little suspected that the 

 male took singing tours and went so far away from his loved 

 ones at home, even to make a temporary circuit above the 

 woods and orchards. It is worth a whole day's travel to hear 

 and view the goldfinch in one of these wild aerial manoeuvres, 

 and catch the echoing strains which may be more or less 

 modulated by the currents of air. I have read the poet's 

 tributes to the skylark, and have seen the beautiful painting, 

 "The Song of the Lark," by Jules Breton, but to come really 

 in touch with one of the loveliest sentiments in nature, one must 

 seek out our native troubadour when he is scaling the heights 

 of heaven. 



While most birds have departed, or are making serious 

 preparations for fall migration, the goldfillch is still attending 



