However crude these verses may be, the sentiment is all right. But may be it will express our idea better if we do not attempt rhyme. Suppose we try it this way—
Listen to the whistle of the marmots;
The hooting of the barred owl, the bugling of the elk!
The yap, yap, yap of the coyote, the wild laugh of the loon;
The dismal howl of the timber wolf,
The grunting of the bull moose, the roaring of the torrent,
And the crashing thunder of the avalanche!
Ah, that's the talk; these are the words and sounds that make the blood in one's veins tingle like ginger ale. Why do all red-blooded men and real American boys like to hear
The crunching of the dry snow;
The flap, flap, flap of snowshoes;
The clinking of the spurs and bits;
The creaking of the saddle leather;
The breathing of the bronco;
The babbling of the rivulet;
The whisper of the pines,
The twitter of the birds.
And the droning of bees.
Why? Because in these sounds we get the dampness of the moss, the almond-like odor of twin flowers, the burning dryness of the sand, the sting of the frost, the grit of the rocks and the tang of old mother earth! They possess the magic power of suggestion. By simply repeating these words we transport our souls to the wilderness, set our spirits free, and we are once again what God made us; natural and normal boys, listening to nature's great runes, odes, epics, lyrics, poems, ballads and roundelays, as sung by God's own bards!
Packing
When packing, remember that a partly filled bag ([Fig. 252]) is easy to pack, easy to carry on one's shoulders; but a tightly filled bag ([Fig. 253]) is a nuisance on the trail. When
