Music of the Wild 



while you ne\'er have seen the A'ocahst, for it keeps 

 close earth in danij), dark ])laces, although social 

 and a constant talker. It mounts to a high choir- 

 loft to sing its song. The cricket's is the dominant 

 insect note of the forest in August, the crow's the 

 bird voice of the treetojjs ; this is the busybody and 

 the unceasing musician of earth. 



Pairs remain together after family cares are 

 over, and their conversation consists of a ([uestion 

 and an answer. "Che-wink?" incjuires the male, 

 with strong interrogative inflection on the last syl- 

 lable. "Che-wee!" exclaims the female, in reply, 

 as if she Mere delighted to say so. "Che-^vink?" 

 he asks again, with his next breath. "Che-wee!" 

 she gurgles, as if she were telling him something 

 "perfectly S2)lendid" for the first time. This call 

 of the male sup])lies the species with a common 

 name. On his part it means, "Where are you?" — 

 and her answer is, "Here!" But as it is delivered 

 I think, from the sjjontaneity of the reply, that 

 it means a shade more — "Safely here!" "Happily 

 here!" or "Glad to be here!" 



I am sure this is true, because in work close 

 chcAvink nests I have had much acquaintance with 

 them. If a male calls and does not get instant 

 reply, he repeats the notes with ])erceptibly higher 

 tone and stronger inflection. If there is no an- 

 swer to this he flies to a bush and begins a per- 

 fect clamor of alarm cries, and hurries around the 



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