call of the bob-white is full of hope, and there is 

 a quality of tenderness in this voice. One must 

 believe it the outcome of the disposition and char- 

 acter of the bird, of some refinement of feeling; 

 just as the raucous call of the English pheasant 

 expresses grossness and density, and the quailing 

 of the hawk pure savagery. 



If we may speak of the temperament of birds, 

 the thrushes must be accorded the religious tem- 

 perament. They are the inspired singers; their 

 songs are eminently sacred music. The woodthrush 

 appears to be actuated by other than merely com- 

 monplace and personal motives. Upon him the 

 forest has laid its spell, and he must deliver its 

 message. He flits about with a dignity befitting 

 his high calling. There is no abandon in his song; 

 he does not sing about himself — has no moods — 

 but repeats his solemn chant. It breaks the still- 

 ness of the woods with a sort of challenge to the 

 gay fields beyond, like the call of the muezzin 

 from the minarets of the mosque — a summons to 

 all twittering sparrows and chattering squirrels to 

 be silent and listen. That such fervor, such so- 

 lemnity and beauty of utterance should be uncon- 

 scious and unwitting seems incredible. Stand and 



