The big thing for which to
strive! They worked to obtain a record so accurately, to reproduce it so
perfectly that the bird making it would answer and come at their call. The
day Malcolm, hidden in the tamarack swamp, coaxed the sparrow, now
flitting widely in feeding its young, he knew not how far, to the bush
sheltering him, and with its own notes set it singing against him as a
rival, the boy was no happier than Mr. Dovesky.
Mr. Minturn could not quite agree to the camp at the swamp, but he
provided a car and a driver and allowed them to go each morning and often
to remain late at night to practise owl and nighthawk calls, veery notes,
chat cries, and the unsurpassed melody of the evening vespers of the
Hermit bird. This song once heard, comprehended, copied, and reproduced,
the musician and the boy with music in his heart, brain, and finger tips,
clung to each other and suffered the exquisite pain of the artist
experiencing joy so poignant it hurt. After a mastery of those notes as to
time, tone, and grouping, came the task of perfecting them so that the
bird would reply.
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