. Fowls of the air . cal Gardens at Antwerp. I waswatching a yard of birds — three or fourOneafoucfi hundred representatives of the pheasant% ^ of family, from all over the earth, that were run-ning about among the rocks and artificialcopses. Some were almost as wild as if intheir native woods; others had grown tamefrom being constantly fed by visitors. It was rather confusing to a bird lover,familiar only with home birds, to see all thestrange forms and colors in the grass, and tohear a chorus of unknown notes from treesand underbrush. But suddenly there was atouch of naturalness. That beauti
. Fowls of the air . cal Gardens at Antwerp. I waswatching a yard of birds — three or fourOneafoucfi hundred representatives of the pheasant% ^ of family, from all over the earth, that were run-ning about among the rocks and artificialcopses. Some were almost as wild as if intheir native woods; others had grown tamefrom being constantly fed by visitors. It was rather confusing to a bird lover,familiar only with home birds, to see all thestrange forms and colors in the grass, and tohear a chorus of unknown notes from treesand underbrush. But suddenly there was atouch of naturalness. That beautiful brownbird with the shapely body and the quick,nervous run,— no one could mistake him;it was Bob White. And with him came aflash of the dear New England landscapethree thousand miles away. Another andanother showed himself and was I thought of the woods at sunset,and began to call softly. The carnivora were being fed not faraway; a frightful uproar came from thecages. The coughing roar of a male lion. uttering the softest and most musical of whistles made the air shiver. Cockatoos screamed;noisy parrots squawked hideously. Chil-dren were playing and shouting near by. Qneufouch ofIn the yard itself fifty birds were singing or Nafure^^^^crying strange notes. Besides all this, thequail I had seen had been hatched far fromhome, under a strange mother. So I hadlittle hope of success. But as the call grew louder and louder,a liquid yodel came like an electric shockfrom a clump of bushes on the left. Therehe was, looking, listening. Another call,and he came running toward me. Othersappeared from every direction, and soon ascore of quail were running about, just insidethe screen, with soft gurglings like a hiddenbrook, doubly delightful to an ear that hadlonged to hear them. City, gardens, beasts, strangers, — all van-ished in an instant. I was a boy in thefields again. The rough New England hill-side grew tender and beautiful in the sunsetlight; the hollows were ric
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectbirds, bookyear1901
