The Song of the Cardinal
The Song of the Cardinal
by Gene Stratton-Porter
1
The Song of the Cardinal
CHAPTER 1
"Good cheer! Good cheer!" exulted the Cardinal
He darted through the orange orchard searching for slugs for his
breakfast, and between whiles he rocked on the branches and rang over his
message of encouragement to men. The song of the Cardinal was
overflowing with joy, for this was his holiday, his playtime. The
southern world was filled with brilliant sunshine, gaudy flowers, an
abundance of fruit, myriads of insects, and never a thing to do except to
bathe, feast, and be happy. No wonder his song was a prophecy of good
cheer for the future, for happiness made up the whole of his past.
The Cardinal was only a yearling, yet his crest flared high, his beard
was crisp and black, and he was a very prodigy in size and colouring.
Fathers of his family that had plished many migrations appeared
small beside him, and coats that had been shed season after season seemed
pared with his. It was as if a pulsing heart of flame passed by
when he came winging through the orchard.
Last season the Cardinal had pipped his shell, away to the north, in
that paradise of the birds, the Limberlost. There thousands of acres of
black marsh-muck stretch under summers' sun and winters' snows. There
are darksome pools of murky water, bits of swale, and high morass.
Giants of the forest reach skyward, or, coated with velvet slime, lie
decaying in sun-flecked pools, while the underbrush is almost
rable.
The swamp resembles a big dining-table for the birds. Wild grape-
vines clamber to the tops of the highest trees, spreading umbrella-wise
over the branches, and their festooned floating trailers wave as silken
fringe in the play of the wind. The birds loll in the shade, peel bark,
gather dried curlers for nest material, and feast on the pungent fruit.
They chatter in swarms over the wild-cherry trees, and overload their
crops with red haws, wild p
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