58 
AS THE YEAR GROWS 
ventriloquial melody that eludes and mystifies the 
listener* It puts the eye and ear at variance* “ It 
cannot be that bird, for the song comes from else- 
where ♦” Now it is in the Pine overhead, again in the 
impenetrable Cedar just behind, and still again it 
seems to come from the surrounding atmosphere* 
But there sits the musical ventriloquist on the 
slender limb, clearly outlined against the sky* 
Suddenly he throws off the disguise, opens his 
bill and pours his song out to the sunshine, to 
blend with the spontaneous life of the growing 
woods. 
