She was herself so much a native of the woods, she was as motionless as the kingfisher himself beside a stream, she was as solitary and as wary of men as the woodpecker, she was so heedful never to disturb a nest, or startle a callow brood; and as her recompense she grew as acquainted and familiar with the winged tribes as was ever Audubon or Naumann. She had not their knowledge, indeed, but she had more than their love. When the naturalist fires on a sanderling or a bunting, he may be a man of science and culture, but he is no lover of birds.
Musa knew very few even of the common names of either the flowers or the birds; of their names in men's books she knew not one, but she knew the look and the season of every blossom that blew, and she knew the haunts and the habits of most of the singers, and the divers, and the many creatures that made populous the wastes around her, and at night could tell by the manner of their flight whether the barn-owl or the Athene Noctua went past her, whether the wild-duck was going through the shadows or the night-loving plover.
