04-sounds- 第4部分

courageous　thought。　　It　reminded　me　of　ghouls　and　idiots　and　insane

howlings。　　But　now　one　answers　from　far　woods　in　a　strain　made

really　melodious　by　distance　　Hoo　hoo　hoo；　hoorer　hoo；　and　indeed

for　the　most　part　it　suggested　only　pleasing　associations；　whether

heard　by　day　or　night；　summer　or　winter。

　　　　I　rejoice　that　there　are　owls。　　Let　them　do　the　idiotic　and

maniacal　hooting　for　men。　　It　is　a　sound　admirably　suited　to　swamps

and　twilight　woods　which　no　day　illustrates；　suggesting　a　vast　and

undeveloped　nature　which　men　have　not　recognized。　　They　represent

the　stark　twilight　and　unsatisfied　thoughts　which　all　have。　　All　day

the　sun　has　shone　on　the　surface　of　some　savage　swamp；　where　the

single　spruce　stands　hung　with　usnea　lichens；　and　small　hawks

circulate　above；　and　the　chickadee　lisps　amid　the　evergreens；　and

the　partridge　and　rabbit　skulk　beneath；　but　now　a　more　dismal　and

fitting　day　dawns；　and　a　different　race　of　creatures　awakes　to

express　the　meaning　of　Nature　there。

　　　　Late　in　the　evening　I　heard　the　distant　rumbling　of　wagons　over

bridges　　a　sound　heard　farther　than　almost　any　other　at　night　

the　baying　of　dogs；　and　sometimes　again　the　lowing　of　some

disconsolate　cow　in　a　distant　barn…yard。　　In　the　mean…while　all　the

shore　rang　with　the　trump　of　bullfrogs；　the　sturdy　spirits　of

ancient　wine…bibbers　and　wassailers；　still　unrepentant；　trying　to

sing　a　catch　in　their　Stygian　lake　　if　the　Walden　nymphs　will

pardon　the　comparison；　for　though　there　are　almost　no　weeds；　there

are　frogs　there　　who　would　fain　keep　up　the　hilarious　rules　of

their　old　festal　tables；　though　their　voices　have　waxed　hoarse　and

solemnly　grave；　mocking　at　mirth；　and　the　wine　has　lost　its　flavor；

and　become　only　liquor　to　distend　their　paunches；　and　sweet

intoxication　never　comes　to　drown　the　memory　of　the　past；　but　mere

saturation　and　waterloggedness　and　distention。　　The　most　aldermanic；

with　his　chin　upon　a　heart…leaf；　which　serves　for　a　napkin　to　his

drooling　chaps；　under　this　northern　shore　quaffs　a　deep　draught　of

the　once　scorned　water；　and　passes　round　the　cup　with　the

ejaculation　tr…r…r…oonk；　tr…r…roonk；　tr…r…r…oonk！　and　straightway

comes　over　the　water　from　some　distant　cove　the　same　password

repeated；　where　the　next　in　seniority　and　girth　has　gulped　down　to

his　mark；　and　when　this　observance　has　made　the　circuit　of　the

shores；　then　ejaculates　the　master　of　ceremonies；　with　satisfaction；

tr…r…r…oonk！　and　each　in　his　turn　repeats　the　same　down　to　the　least

distended；　leakiest；　and　flabbiest　paunched；　that　there　be　no

mistake；　and　then　the　howl　goes　round　again　and　again；　until　the　sun

disperses　the　morning　mist；　and　only　the　patriarch　is　not　under　the

pond；　but　vainly　bellowing　troonk　from　time　to　time；　and　pausing　for

a　reply。

　　　　I　am　not　sure　that　I　ever　heard　the　sound　of　cock…crowing　from

my　clearing；　and　I　thought　that　it　might　be　worth　the　while　to　keep

a　cockerel　for　his　music　merely；　as　a　singing　bird。　　The　note　of

this　once　wild　Indian　pheasant　is　certainly　the　most　remarkable　of

any　bird's；　and　if　they　could　be　naturalized　without　being

domesticated；　it　would　soon　become　the　most　famous　sound　in　our

woods；　surpassing　the　clangor　of　the　goose　and　the　hooting　of　the

owl；　and　then　imagine　the　cackling　of　the　hens　to　fill　the　pauses

when　their　lords'　clarions　rested！　　No　wonder　that　man　added　this

bird　to　his　tame　stock　　to　say　nothing　of　the　eggs　and　drumsticks。

To　walk　in　a　winter　morning　in　a　wood　where　these　birds　abounded；

their　native　woods；　and　hear　the　wild　cockerels　crow　on　the　trees；

clear　and　shrill　for　miles　over　the　resounding　earth；　drowning　the

feebler　notes　of　other　birds　　think　of　it！　　It　would　put　nations

on　the　alert。　　Who　would　not　be　early　to　rise；　and　rise　earlier　and

earlier　every　successive　day　of　his　life；　till　he　became　unspeakably

healthy；　wealthy；　and　wise？　　This　foreign　bird's　note　is　celebrated

by　the　poets　of　all　countries　along　with　the　notes　of　their　native

songsters。　　All　climates　agree　with　brave　Chanticleer。　　He　is　more

indigenous　even　than　the　natives。　　His　health　is　ever　good；　his

lungs　are　sound；　his　spirits　never　flag。　　Even　the　sailor　on　the

Atlantic　and　Pacific　is　awakened　by　his　voice；　but　its　shrill　sound

never　roused　me　from　my　slumbers。　　I　kept　neither　dog；　cat；　cow；

pig；　nor　hens；　so　that　you　would　have　said　there　was　a　deficiency　of

domestic　sounds；　neither　the　churn；　nor　the　spinning…wheel；　nor　even

the　singing　of　the　kettle；　nor　the　hissing　of　the　urn；　nor　children

crying；　to　comfort　one。　　An　old…fashioned　man　would　have　lost　his

senses　or　died　of　ennui　before　this。　　Not　even　rats　in　the　wall；　for

they　were　starved　out；　or　rather　were　never　baited　in　　only

squirrels　on　the　roof　and　under　the　floor；　a　whip…poor…will　on　the

ridge…pole；　a　blue　jay　screaming　beneath　the　window；　a　hare　or

woodchuck　under　the　house；　a　screech　owl　or　a　cat　owl　behind　it；　a

flock　of　wild　geese　or　a　laughing　loon　on　the　pond；　and　a　fox　to

bark　in　the　night。　　Not　even　a　lark　or　an　oriole；　those　mild

plantation　birds；　ever　visited　my　clearing。　　No　cockerels　to　crow

nor　hens　to　cackle　in　the　yard。　　No　yard！　but　unfenced　nature

reaching　up　to　your　very　sills。　　A　young　forest　growing　up　under

your　meadows；　and　wild　sumachs　and　blackberry　vines　breaking　through

into　your　cellar；　sturdy　pitch　pines　rubbing　and　creaking　against

the　shingles　for　want　of　room；　their　roots　reaching　quite　under　the

house。　　Instead　of　a　scuttle　or　a　blind　blown　off　in　the　gale　　a

pine　tree　snapped　off　or　torn　up　by　the　roots　behind　your　house　for

fuel。　　Instead　of　no　path　to　the　front…yard　gate　in　the　Great　Snow

　no　gate　　no　front…yard　　and　no　path　to　the　civilized　world。