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Updated: June 10, 2025
"I think I could sing as well myself though, if it was not for this constant feeling of having a cold. There must have been a draught where I was hatched, and I've never recovered it. I can't think how he manages to sing and fly too at the same time: I can't. Why, I should be out of breath in no time." "There, don't be a booby," said his wife; "you are not a song-bird at all.
Indeed, there were individuals among those we heard certain of whose notes seemed to me almost to equal in point of melody the chimes of the wood thrush; and the highest possible praise for any song-bird is to liken its song to that of the wood thrush or hermit thrush. I certainly do not think that the blackbird has received full justice in the books.
We had a succession of black nights, going up the river, and it was observable that whenever we landed, and suddenly inundated the trees with the intense sunburst of the electric light, a certain curious effect was always produced: hundreds of birds flocked instantly out from the masses of shining green foliage, and went careering hither and thither through the white rays, and often a song-bird tuned up and fell to singing.
For unnumbered generations, the people of Italy have been taught to believe that it is perfectly right to shoot and devour every song-bird that flies. We sincerely hope that it will not require blows and kicks and fines to remove from Antonio's head the idea that America is not Italy, and that the slaughter of song birds "don't go" in this country.
Some of them, too, are welcome as the flowers in May for their own sake; some of them may have a human voice; some may have that magic which transforms a wooden box into a song-bird, and what we jeeringly call a fiddle into what we mention with respect as a violin.
But the maiden replied: 'Yesterday I went at twilight to the flowery meadows. There I heard a thrush singing, and I asked him, "Tell me, pretty song-bird, how shall I live most happily, as a maiden in my father's home or as a wife by my husband's side?"
This was the second instance in which I have observed a song-bird with apparently some organic defect in its instrument. The other case was that of a bobolink, which, hover in mid-air and inflate its throat as it might, could only force out a few incoherent notes.
Watching her face, that betrayed her every passing thought and emotion as an untroubled pool mirrors the flowers that grow on its banks or the song-bird that pauses to drink, the artist to change her mood said, "You love the mountains, don't you?" She turned her face toward him, again, as she answered simply, "Yes, I love the mountains."
"Yes, that is right; and for the present you can learn enough about birds without shooting them yourself, and if you learn your lesson well you will never shoot a song-bird." "May we see the book you are writing, Uncle Roy, and learn all about the birds out of it?" "It is written in words too long and difficult for you to understand. Here is a page on the desk see if you can read it."
He had no sooner done so, than the dark clouds rolled away from the sky a warm sun shone forth the cold north wind veered suddenly round, and blew a mild breeze from the south the snows melted away the ice was unbound upon the streams, and the trees put forth their green leaves and their fruit flowers sprang up beneath their feet, while larks, nightingales, blackbirds, cuckoos, thrushes, and every sweet song-bird, sang hymns from every tree.
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