The Music of the Marsh 



rasping "Gyck, gyck," but she does not desert her 

 nest and eggs. True men a(hiiire motherhood. 

 No spot in their liearts is so tender as the place 

 for wife and chihl. No sight is so appeahng as 

 that of a mother shielchng her baby. These birds 

 are mothers also, with true, maternal instinct. 

 When you look into the brave eyes of this feath- 

 ered mother, one of nature's shyest. Mildest crea- 

 tures, that fears you as death, yet steadily remains 

 on her nest for the sake of the mites she is pro- 

 tecting, — take off your hat to one of the finest ex- 

 hibitions of courage you ever will be permitted 

 to see. 



While you are becoming acquainted M'ith her, 

 away in the marsh the grasses bend as before a 

 strong wind with the frantic rushes of her agon- Character- 

 ized mate, who answers her cry Mith a sharper 

 "Gyck, gyck," and rumbles his groaning "Um- 

 um-um-um," making the nearest approach to the 

 boom of a bittern of any other marsh bird. It 

 may not be the most pleasing music, but coming 

 from strong cliaracters with brave hearts, it com- 

 l^els warm sympathy always. 



The king rail is a M-ader with slender bare legs 

 and feet, neither Mcbbed nor lobed, but having 

 long, slim toes with sharp nails. A marsh adja- 

 cent to a corn field is his chosen location. His 

 favorite diet is seed rich in starches, from the Aveeds 

 and grasses, that make him a plump, dainty dish 



373 



istic Music 



