Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-07-02

Once upon a time we thought the
most futile task was to attempt TO de-
scribe in words musical composition.
Now we know that the same attempt
to imprison q birds song Is even more
hopeless.
Strive as hard as one can, the songs
Of most birds escape written description
There are few, such as that Of the
bob white and the whip poor-will, whose
ordinary notation does very well.
There was a bob white outside our
window the other morning. With this
living illustration at hand, there was no
escaping the name.
The whistle actually seemed those
syllableS. But what Is one to think Of
the Interpretation" of the song Of the
woodthrush, which sometimes is printed
IT love you; you love me-?
One will have to be imaginative in
deed to be able to catch those words IN
the clear, fute-like call Of this tamest
Of all birds.
One will have to have love on the
brain, as the saying is, to read the word
in that second note of the triolet which
the thrush pipes so brightly all day
long.
The words simply are not there. One
might as we'll declares that what the
thrush is saying is "Oh. my eye!"
X X X X
Yet writer's about birds still try man.
fully to reduce their songs to human
dimensions, as if there were any real
reason for it, after all.
The bird songs are notes, and often
scarcely that, possessing an elusive,
quavering quality which makes them
seem vastly inhuman.
Some OF the songs are not songs at
ALL but plainly disagreeable cackles,
plants, whistles, means, gurgles ano
the like. There Is nothing beautiful
about many bird songs, but only some
thing rather absurd, to put 1t plainly.
Even worse than putting such a song
into human words, especially English
words, is the attempt to describe them
by mere assortment of syllables. The
man who writes them down may know
what he is doing, but since he Is not
there in the book to give the reader
the exact pronunciation and shading,
the latter will never in the world be able
to make head nor tail out of bird song
so described.
The birds, We suspect, are not Eng
lish. That is why our common attempts
to put their Language" into our we'll
known syllable formations is not very
successful.
Perhaps italian would be better, be-
ing more liquid, the language of univer-
sal music and of all singers. Even the
Hawaiian, with its liquid assortment of
vowelS, many and often repeated, would
furnish better basic medium for bird
song descriptive.
X X X y
Many of the bird writer's refrain.
therefore, from any attempt at giving
a birds song, and this, we think, almost
a greater failure than presenting them
improperly or foolishly.
After all, what is more interesting to
the average home lover than the song
of the birds?
Not even the appearance Of a bird.
bright or plain, as 1t may be, Is any
more interest compelling than the as
Sortment of sounds which issue con-
tinuously from the Threats of the feath-
cred creatures.
You may not see a bird, but you al
ways hear him.
He is chirping away in the trees, or in
the thickets or hedges, or singing from
bush. almost the entire time he is
awake.
For their size birds are the noisiest
things in the world. The hot bugs" of
Summer nights are about the only living
things which can be heard farther, con-
sidering their SmallneSs.
There is world of power behind the
sounds which the thrush, for instance,
sends forth. AS he mods on the branch
he is veritable steam calliope of the
old-time circus brand.
Let no one be ashamed of liking for
calliope music. Pronounce it with the