Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1899-11-09
SEASON OF THE SONG BIRDS.
Notes Now to be Heard in the Music
of the Woodland Orchestra.

1t is full orchestra with the birds
hereabouts, before it is full leaf with
the trees and shrubs. Everybody who
delicious whistle of the oriole with the
fresh verdure and almost intolerably
brilliant sunshine of mid May, says the
New York Sun. By the time the oriole
begins to whistle all the song
birds are here and singing their whole
repertoire. The orioles note, however,
is the musical epitome of the season,
an airy, cheerful call, that seems to
speak the delight of the bird in his
own splendor in the mild delicious air.
in the inexpressible freshness of the
new greenery.
The whole thrush tribe is there sing
ing. The robins have by that time for
some days been busy with household
cares The catbird, in his sad-colored
coat with it's lining of dun rose, is
pouring forth his capricious song in
length and irregularity nearer akin to
the ode than to aught else in human
poetry. 1t is, indeed, the longest song
of the summer, save that of the brown
thrasher the great thrush, lover of
the orchard, of country hedgerows and
of dusty highways. You may hear and
see the brownthrasher on any morning
these days up in the northern suburbs.
He looks for all the world like the
wood thrush masquerading n a long
tailed coat. There is nearly the same
cinnamon back, much the same spec
killed. breast, the same speed on the wing
but more sauciness, not the same de-
light in retirement, not the same in
stinct for singing solitary at sunset.
Now, while yet the sunshine falls
freely through the thick foliage of the
suburban woodlands, and while the
woodland ways are enriched with the
rags and tatters of the building season
the salmon-red bracta of the hickory
leaf buds and other such mimicry of
autumn, the wood thush goes through
his whole vocal repertoire. You may
hear his keen yet liquid call to his
mate, a succession of short sharp
whistled notes, like the dropping of
hard pure water upon naked rocks.
This is alternated at the approach of
human footsteps with the warning
note of the bird, throaty call, rich in
the suggestion of musical possibilities.
The same cry, with more uneasiness,
is employed by the mother bird to her
young.
Bird activity, whether Of voice or of
wing, is at it's highest from mid-May
to the season of the full leaf, which
comes early in June Later the birds
settle down to domestic cares. By
mid-June the suburban woodlands are
taking on their midsummer aspect,
and the city seems to have Withdrawn
for miles from within it's own bounds.
Familiar landmarks have been swal-
lowed up in greenery. Certain far
away gables and chimney tops, mark
ing all winter long the lines of city
streets, have melted into the green
horizon. Cat birds are then busy in
suburban orchards. Robins are on the
lookout for worms on the suburban
lawns. Out of the depths of seemingly
interminable woodlands comes the tan
talizing, lonely cry of the veevy, just
such a cry as, heard in the North
woods, might well seem to embody the
very spirit of the wilderness. Less sat
saturated with the aloofness of the
woodland, because less abusive and
more familiar, is the sonnet-like song
of the wood thrush, like the sonnet, "A
triumph of variety in uniformity.
Heard on a hot noon as coming from
the unseen perch of the bird just with
in the edge of the woodland, 1t seems
the characteristic note of the suburban
acquaintance with the wood thrus.... to
midsummer.
One must have long and intimate
realize in what a variety of ways the
same song can be sung. Fhe skill OF
different birds varies greatly, some
seem really to have studied true must
cal variations, for they interpolate
trills and minor tones in fashion to
give new character to a familiar song.
A suburban listener has heard within
a few days a song by which he takes
to be a young wood thrush, perhaps a
nesting of two years ago. II is sweet
and true but little wear and lacking
the supreme glory and maturity of the
vespers that he heard year after year
from the top Of a now fallen oak tree.
The mature song of the perfect must
clan, that is of the wood thrush at mis-
best, is well worth a long journey and
hours of patient listening. Nothing
else quite so well interprets the semi
tropical richness of the suburban mid
summer. Heard anywhere, it brings
to the accustomed listener vision OF
dense, grassy woodlands browsing in
floods Of sunshine that rarely pene-
trates the thickly matched roof or dis
turbs the odorous glooms aud damps
of vine-embowered thickets
Mrs. Nelson A. Miles denies with
vigor the report published in a Chi
cago paper that she told an interviewer
Admiral Dewey would accept a presl-
Dental nomination. There is dispo-
sition in certain quarters to make
rnuoh of Mre Mi1aai dpnta1 and vet