18 
BIRDS 
—as if his air had more oxygen than 
ours, or his body less clay. How slight 
a wound kills him! how exquisite his sen¬ 
sations! how perfect his nervous system! 
and hence how large his brain! Why, 
look at the cerebral development of this 
tiny songster,—almost a third larger, in 
proportion to the size of its body, than 
that of Shakespeare even! Does it mean 
nothing? You may observe that a warbler 
has a much larger brain and a much 
finer cerebral organization throughout 
than a bird of prey, or any of the Picus 
family even. Does it signify nothing? 
And then there is its freedom, its su¬ 
perior powers of locomotion, its triumph 
over time and space. The reptile meas¬ 
ures its length upon the ground; the 
quadruped enjoys a more complete lib¬ 
eration, and is related to the earth less 
closely; man more still; and the bird 
most of all. Over our heads, where our 
eyes travel, but our bodies follow not,— 
in the free native air,—is his home. The 
trees are his temples and his dwellings, 
and the breezes sing his lullaby. He 
needs no sheltering; for the rain does not 
