Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-06-17
EVENING SY M P HON Y
NATURES GRAND SONG IN THE
WOODS AT CLOSE OF DAY.
Signing Winds, Songs of Birds, Voices
of Animals and Insects All
-'-- Mingled tremendously.
Written for The Star.

Written for The Star.
1 had occasion, in the early days Of June
to tramp for some miles along aban-
doned road which sklrted a mountain sde
following a ridge of the foothills, and over
looking wide valley of farm land and
pasture, while far beyond there was the
dim green line of the Vermont mountains
in the west. 1t was in the late afternoon,
the finest hours of all the day, for a west
ern sun made a golden glow over the near
fields, and the live things In the wood were
lifting their voices in an evening symphony.
AS l walked along, it pleased me to pick
out the various sounds which went to make
up this music-the breathing of the winds
the voices of birds and mammals, and of all
the flying, creeping things which were ofrcn
hidden, but which had their parts in the
great orchestra and choir. 1t was good
training, too, and put my knowledge of out
door things to a test, for 1 sought TO tden-
tify everything as it spoke to the ear, with
out using my eyes at all.
First of all, l noted the gentle susurius
of the leaves nearest me, as the breeze
of night began to play upon them. TEen.
if l stopped and listened, l caught a gentle
roar, of the rolling of far-off waves This
was the sound of the same breeze sway
ing the boughs- of the fir trees that clothed
the near mountain.
Noises of Lurking Animals.
Near me were all sorts of noises that
told of lurking animals. A quick, startled
rustic in the dry grass told of a frightened
meadow mouse; a red squirrel cheeptd
sharply from thicket, scolding like a lit
tie shrew; and down in the pasture, out Of
my sight. l heard the whistle of a wood
chuck. AS If in contrast to that came a
noise that told me of the presence of the
noblest American animal of all. l was just
at the edge of the great gam7 preserve,
Corbin Park, and my ear caught the hoarse
grunt of the buffalo, and l knew that some
where near at hand a herd of the great
shaggy, commanding beasts were feeding.
But 1t was the birds, of course, whose
voices were most noticeable in the music
At that hour of the evening every feather
ed creature seems to take it as a part of
the days duty and pleasure to sing: nor
was 1t difficult to identify the singers
Above my head, an occasional hunting
old house a pair Of chimney swifts sprang
their silver rattle as they circled and
curved above their home site. From the
bushes and little poplars that lined the
road black-throated green Warblers sang
"Zee-Zee- zee red-eyed vireo wandered
industriously among the branches and ex-
pounded a very gentle law in spirited
voice; and white breasted nuthatch talked
worms on an apple bough.
Song Sparrow's Mellow Even Song.
A song sparrow lifted his mellow even
song from the top of a brush pile.' A phoebe
called plaintively, and Immediately after I
heard the sharp snap of his bill, as he tried
for flying insect, A brown thrasher bub
bled and sputtered and cheered in the dis
lance, veery sent up his spiral song, a
o.e;a, nf,, II, ctoY 1xy
ing SCALE and oven bird shrilled &C.
statcally as though his little spotted
breast were so full of Joy that he could not
do otherwise than try to impress it upon
the world.
After that came the climax Of bird songs,
the distant whistle of the hermit thrush 1t
can be picked out from all other bird music,
because no other songster hereabouts has
such rare beauty of voice. When you have
never before heard In sweetness, in purity,
in character, as though the singer were
aloof from the everyday world. a rare
soul alone with his own fine thoughts, that
is the hermit. 1t Is not the variety of his
notes; 1t is their single excellence. 1t is
not for their bubbling ecstasy, or their
mirthfulness, or for any suggestion OF JOY;
1t is merely the wondrous quality of the
tone 1t is as though you heard Calve or
a Sembrich singing to the flute. What II
Shelly had heard the hermit! There would
be another poem to match The Skylark."
Other Sounds in the Symphony.
The hermit continued his vespers. and
there came again the control in voices
the raucous call of crow Tapping over
toward the forest and a sharp rattle
which told of a woodpecker working on a
dead tree stump. And then, soft, very
soft, faint and seemingly from a great
distance, came the beat, beat. beat Of q
male grouse, drumming.
Quickly the tune in my ears changed; I
hand, to the humble of early bees in the
apple blossoms, and again to the mourn
ing of a few small gnats that played in the
air in front of me.
The sun sank lower, the mountains in the
west became a clear blue line, while those
to the east were almost blue black. From
somewhere out of the air above me, drop
ped the cry of night hawk. and In mag
ination 1 saw the bird wheeling and sail
ing and sliding through the upper afr.
And now the little peeping frogs awoke
in the marsh; their shrlll bird-like voices
were somewhat suggestive Of sandpipers.
They were, said, the oboes of the orches-
ira. coming out and with sharp minor
above all the other instruments.
Melancholy Chirp of the Cricket.
Suddenly, too I heard the chirp of a
cricket / am reminded. when hear them
so early, OF those philosophers who say
that the seeds of death are planted at
birth. For the cry of the cricket has in
it the melancholy Of autumn, Of the death
of the year; and yet here at the very
spring time. at the first flush of the years
youth, are their voices bringing sharp
reminder of winter and of decline. Nature
seems thus to send premonition of death
even at the springing up of life.
The voices, the sounds were now at full
height, and as fit ending to the evening
music there floated up from the valley be-
meath the low Of homing cattle, the clink,
clink clink of the bell on a COW as she
ambled stableward to milking and bed;
pleasant sounds suggestive of man and
mans life, Of quiet old farm houses, and