Yonder the wild turkey calls from the pine trees, or we hark to the whir of the grouse or the pine-hen.

Noisy magpies startle the silence of the northern districts, and the sage-hen and the rabbit everywhere break the solitude of your walk.

Turn up a stone and sometimes you see a revengeful scorpion: anon the huge tarantula comes forth to look at the camp-fire.

As one sits resting on a barren ledge, the little swifts come out to make his acquaintance.

Whistle softly and a bright-coated fellow will run up even upon your shoulder to show his appreciation of the Swan Song.