There are a few sounds still which never fail to affect me. The notes of the wood thrush and the sound of a vibrating chord, these affect me as many sounds once did often, and as almost all should. The strains of the aeolian harp and of the wood thrush are the truest and loftiest preachers that I know now left on earth. I know of no missionaries to us heathen comparable to them. They, as it were, life us up in spite of ourselves. They intoxicate, they charm us.

Henry David Thoreau, Journal, 31 December 1853

Photo by Eddie Callway of Birdfreak.com (c) 2008