The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1919-12-04
Overheard
in Already
II
BY CHARYpa n A~~@-
(copyright.)
An well-a-day, what eye may see
Inc forest tons of Arcadv,n
~ CHARLES c. ABBOTT
(copyright.)


the way since childhood. NV own
rect have worn the path thither and
Whatever the season. whether the dog
star RACES or winter rules the world.
is always Already under the old oaks.
NY sense of hearing distinctly gains
Dy lending no other to its assistance.
Blind TO all about me, not q sound but
IS more distinct and few escape recog.
nitlon. So, comfortably seated, close
my eyes and listen. Then 1t is that
charming tales are overheard in Ar
cady; and only then do those whisper
ings reach the ear that are not in.
Tended for other delectation than that
OF the whisperer. There are the songs
OF birds free to all the world. and those
meditative melodies on so low a kew
that only favored few have overheard
them.
Probably the first time my atten.
ton was called to the whisper songs
OF birds was forty years ago. when,
one brisk March morning, recorded Of
foxy sparrow that ut was whispering
to withered oak leaf" AS look now
ut the tattered and stained page Of the
Old notebook wildly recall the day.
But truce to comparisons, the bane
alike of profitable meditation and of ac-
curate description. The simple fact
was, a foxy sparrow very near me be-
gan singing in so low a tone that I
was IN doubt whether Il were q bird
or musical vesper mouse sitting In
the doorway of his bush nest. had
to look long to make sure Of my first
Impression. 1t was sparrow, and,
as then wrote, 1t 'was whispering to
IN oak leaf" So 1t seemed, that is !;
but let that pass. It was singing to
itself. Surely not note was loud
enough to be heard half q rod away.
There was little variation In the sound
as heard 1t; 1t was humming rather
than singing and bore no resemblance
to that delightful sunset hymn so char
acteristic of the bird. My single i'm
preston of it was that Of personal
qualification. The bird was In q medi-
tative mood. Its thoughts ran to mu-
sic, as we should say Of ourselves. re-
calling the words of some familiar
song. AS this is no uncommon trait
among mankind. do not see why the
same habit should not be INDUCED In
by birds.
Twice have witnessed under most
favorable circumstances the move
ments Of cardinal grosbeak when
uttering what I venture to call his
meditations, or whisper song. The
name counts for little, because all de.
scription must fail In accurately por-
traying this feature Of bird life.
In the early summer of 1896 had a
disabled rOse-breasted grOsbeak in a
cage. 1t soon became contented with
fits surroundings and was not startled
by the near approach Of any Of the
family. Every morning, commencing
soon after sunrise. 1t sang as vigorous
ly as any of it's kind flying about the
yard; and this is with us common
bird, nesting on the hillside and in the
orchard. Again at evening the bird
was given to singing in its matchless
way, and / could detect no difference
between It's song and that of those
about the premises. Besides this ordi-
nary song Of the rose breast, I was
frequently treated to q widely different
one. heard only when all was quiet.
It was truly whispered song. 1t bore
little resemblance to the grand out
burst Of melody intended for all the
world to hear. It can be described
best, think, BY calling 1t the echo Of
q distant flute. That the bird WAS
Intensely absorbed by its own. music
appeared evident from the swaying
motion Of the body at the time and an
occasional trembling. accompanied by
q running Of the feathers and nervous
twitching Of the tail. No wood notes
Wild" that have ever heard are COM
parable TO this wonderful whispered
sonr Of the rose breast.
All observers are familiar With the
ihcessant cfirping Of migrating birds.
and many are the sweet s6hes when
the red wings throng the marshes and
clouds Of grakles sweep across the
meadows. These birds are each
merry race, n0wise akin, but lovers
of the same scenes. and they have set
the October landscapes to lively tune.
At times among the trees We hear the
countless voices Of some passing fiock.
perhaps Of purple nnches, the warblers.
wax wings, cow-pen birds, or iarks.
These Il are forever coming. end going
during delightful autumn days and add
= low to every hour Of the mellow sun
shine. Not one of these birds that
have named is ever mute or moody.
and now. II we are alert and quick OF
ear, 1t will be found that they Often
twitter in so low tone that 1t can
be only intended for disqualification.
It Is not whispering to neighbor, for
single birds separated from the flock
are constantly chirping In that quiet
way so suggestive Of meditation. The
nearest to silent flock of birds Is
when we have the wax wings passing
over. The cow-pen bird is more volu-
BILE and not unmusically so. especially
If we give 1t credit for good intentions.