The laugh of the loon was no longer a raucous, mocking cry of exultation and triumph, but a timid, question note--half drowsy, half filled with fear; and from the treetops came the still lower notes of the owls, their night's hunt done, and seeking now the densest covers for the day.

And then, from deep back in the forests, came a cry that was filled with both hunger and defiance--the wailing howl of a wolf.

With these night sounds came the first cheep, cheep, cheep of the little brush sparrow, still drowsy and uncertain, but faintly heralding the day.

Wings fluttered in the spruce and cedar thickets.

From far overhead came the honking of Canada geese flying southward.