The River Falls journal. (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1857-1861, 1859-08-03


Birds.-Henry Ward Beecher in a
recent article in the Independent talks
in this wise:-
A man that would shoot Robin, ex-
cept in fall, when, in flocks, they are gath
er,d together to caravan the air in their
long pilgrimage to southern glades and
forests, and then really and conscientious
ly for food, has in him the blood of a can
nibal, and would, if born in Otaheite have
eaten ministers, and digested them too.
This universal favorite has variety of
songs. All are sweet, but one rises far
above the rest. AT evening, the sun gone
down, the COWS returned from pasture,
the landscape radiant in its salient points,
but growing dim and solemn underneath,
then as you sit musing in your door, you
shall hear from tree on the lawn, dis
tant,a continuous calling song, full of sweet
importantly mingled with sadness. 1t is
the call for its absent mate. Sometimes
i; rolls and gurgles for but moment,
when a shadow fits through the air, and
a sudden flash of leaves, the song stops
two birds glide out upon the sky, and fly
to their home. But at other times the
birds grief is your gain. No coming
mate shortens his song. Some remorse
less boy has brought him down, to sing
and build, aud brood no moro; some cat
or hawk, or gazing snake has dined upon
the fair thing. And SO, though the twi-
light falls, and the evening grows darker
the song calls on, pausing only to change
the manner, throwing in here and there
coaxing notes and staccato ordinations
of impotence, but going back soon to the
gushing, pining, yearning home-call.-
Take all my strawberries if you want
them, oh singer! Come tomorrow for my
cherries You pay me in one SINCE song
for all that you can eat in a summer and
leave me still iu your debt. For there is
no such thing as paying for that which
touches your heart, raises your magma
ton, wings your fancy, and carries you up,
by inspired thoughts, above the Lowell et
selfish life. The heart only can pay the
heart for good service!
He also gives the Blue Jay the follow
ing "first rate notice. =
It's note is as terrible as the music of
the Scotch bagpipe. We should think
tie spirits Of "a dozen old pipers had enter
ed into every particular Blue Jay and
their notes quarreled and tangled in its
throat which should be most cutting and
cacophonous! Yet the Blue Jay wen
its way to our regard, and in this wise:
When living in Indiana they sung a
great deal about our little one-story house,
and screamed and shrieked with such ter
rible vigoi that our nerves gave way. We
had had chills and fever--were weak,
and little edgy. We took our gun and
began warfare. The Jay is tena'
cious of life, and dies game. After day
or two of shooting, we began to admire
the soldier-like quality of these splendid
and high-plumed fellows. And when,
with our last shot, we brought down a
splendid specimen, half-shot to pieces, but
full of pluck, his eye bright, his courage
up, fighting for his life, that ebbed away,
and dealing blows right and left at our
hand with his stiff bill, and died without
flinching, pluck to the very last gasp, we
were conquered, and vowed that we
would never shoot such brave bird
aga;nl We never have. We never
will.