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Updated: August 29, 2024
For Bobby Bobolink's happy songs drove Timothy Turtle almost crazy. He said that if he had known he would have to listen to such merry singing he would have taken his outing in the Beaver Pond, though he wasn't really due there for thirty-nine years, because he had visited the Beaver colony only the summer before.
Then he will be changed to dull brown like his wife, and keep as quiet as poor Cinderella sitting in the ashes. "Do you see any birds in that meadow of long grass?" asked the Doctor. "I don't see any in the grass," said Rap; "but there are some Bobolinks all about in the trees along the edges, and more of them up in the air. Where are their nests, Doctor? I've never found a Bobolink's nest!"
This was so closely covered by the low-growing branches that I could see it only by holding them one side. Moreover the sage is what is called in the books a social plant; where there is one there may be a thousand, as like each other as so, many peas. The particular bush that hid my chewink babies had to be marked, as one would mark the special tuft of grass that hides a bobolink's nest.
"Yes, bobolinks," said our guide; "and you had to wait for an old half-blind man to find them for you." We were too much delighted to be annoyed by his teasing; a bobolink's nest we never hoped to see. Nor should we, but for a discovery of mine that very morning. Walking down that same road, I had noticed in the deep grass near the path a clump of exquisite wild flowers.
The truth was that the yellowish tips of his feathers were wearing away, leaving him a handsome suit of black, set off by a generous patch of creamy yellow on the back of his neck, with enough white on his back and shoulders to make a most jaunty costume. Most of the field people enjoyed Bobby Bobolink's company, for he was always in high spirits.
From one side came the bobolink's voice, "Preaching boldly to the sad the folly of despair, And telling whom it may concern that all the world is fair;" from the other, the plaintive notes of the meadow lark.
Paul was only horrified to realize what might have happened had he taken Bobolink's suggestion for the truth, and fully believed the figure in the oak to be a savage panther. "We'd better let Mr. Jameson know," Paul remarked, as he also sat up and cleared his legs of the blanket. "Yes, he'll know how to get him down. I bet you, Paul, the feller went and swam across from the island.
The new school of nature writers will afford many samples of the former method; read Thoreau's description of the wood thrush's song or the bobolink's song, or his account of wild apples, or of his life at Walden Pond, or almost any other bit of his writing, for a sample of the latter. In his best work he uses language in the imaginative way of the poet.
How could he, when the birds were all waiting so eagerly to hear Bobby Bobolink's voice? "He has a way" Mr. Meadowlark went on "a way of making almost any summer's day a gay holiday. He is just bubbling over with happiness; and he can't seem to get his notes out fast enough." "Yes!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird chimed in. "He's a cheerful, happy-go-lucky chap. And he wears gay clothes, too."
"'Why you silly dear! cried, the big girl, laughing a sweet little laugh like the Bobolink's song, 'that only proves how little you know about wild birds. Plenty of them are more brightly colored than your Canary, and some of those that wear the plainest feathers sing more beautifully than all the Canaries and cage birds in the world.
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