At the north of Bearcamp Water; . to a joyous land, Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,And flowers put on a fairer hue,And everything was strange and new. The quaint story of Noahs gathering theanimals into the ark is always linked in mymind with the Pied Piper, and with that strangeturn in the tide of bird life which is called mi-gration. The marvelous music which charmedthe rats and children of Hamelin town musthave been used by Noah to call his creaturesinto the ark of safety, and it is still to be heardin the winds of autumn sighing through theChocorua forests and calling the birds a
At the north of Bearcamp Water; . to a joyous land, Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,And flowers put on a fairer hue,And everything was strange and new. The quaint story of Noahs gathering theanimals into the ark is always linked in mymind with the Pied Piper, and with that strangeturn in the tide of bird life which is called mi-gration. The marvelous music which charmedthe rats and children of Hamelin town musthave been used by Noah to call his creaturesinto the ark of safety, and it is still to be heardin the winds of autumn sighing through theChocorua forests and calling the birds away toother lands. One day all is calm and serene;the next, though the sky is just as blue and thesunlight just as warm, something of unrest is inthe air, and the birds are telling each other thestory of the great journey. Songs are forgottenor sung only to greet the dawn and bless thenight; nestlings are trained to flight and ledsilent journeys through field, forest, or etherafter food; new scenes are visited, and the weak ?1. MIGRATION. 119 separated from the strong and left to die. Then,sometimes by day, sometimes by night, the hostsmeet, drawn together by a force as irresistibleand mysterious as magnetism, and finally thestory of the great journey is written in fact oncemore. In the August mornings I hear the Swainsonsthrush by the lake. He was not there a fewdays before, he was on the mountain-side. Heis drifting southward, slowly at first, but feelingthe thrill of the Pied Pipers music in his through the summer I have listened in vainfor the nasal quants, quank, quank, of the rednuthatch. Suddenly, in mid-August, I hear iton the mountain, and an hour or two later everyflock of chickadees brings the northern migrantscall along with the jolly chorus of dee, dee,dee. These chickadees, alert, courageous, tire-less, and generous, are the convoys of the warblerfleets. For an hour the silence of the forestwill be broken only by the tiresome platitudesof the red-eyed vi
Size: 924px × 2706px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookpublisherbostonandnewyorkho
