15 August 1889

It is now harvest time. We are already examining the sky anxiously. Will storms come and cripple the hay harvest? Lost in these rustic thoughts, I wander the alleys of lindens where I cross the nervous flights of tits, the almost aggressive mating dance of the robin and the blackbird’s escape to ground level. These give me the impression of being an intruder in my own estate. I think then of this phrase from Jules Michelet, from his book simply entitled The Bird: “Man would not have lived had it not been for the bird, who alone was able to save him from the insect and the reptile; but the bird could have lived without man.”

It pleases me to dream of a world without people, where birds, sublime singers as Michelet defines them, would unite to perform a vibrant and astonishing symphony. There is no doubt that music, which is one of our most accomplished arts, comes to us in part from birds. I would not dare attempt to imagine the rough and barbarous cries of the ancient archaeopteryx, but who has never been struck by the spirit of competition, and of melodic agreement, dare I say, of a forest of winged singers? However, if we, humans, did not exist, who would have the good fortune to marvel at the song of birds. They sing, in fact, for those who listen.