Say—have you ever given thought
To snoots—just snoots? Most likely not!
There’s so much else to think about
That snoots get crowded out.
An uncouth thing
And yet most interesting
Somehow, and so of snoots I sing
And of that strange, instinctive sense—
Mute marvel of God’s providence!
Now take a snoot that’s prowled around
Like old Pete’s there—along the ground
And through the brush from log to log—
The plain snoot of a common dog.
How often, knocking through the wood,
Deep in the maples I have stood
Stock still—and watched that canny brute.
Tense to the trail, by rock and root,
Zigzagging now, then onward straight!
Not once there would he hesitate.
Eyes to the earth, alert and quick,
By briar, branch and broken stick,
Till pausing short, with one glad bound
And switching tail—his quarry found,
He sprang to meet
His master, crouching at his feet,
At last content.
And this strange thing—you call it _scent_
The leaves are trodden by a boot,
A little later comes a snoot,
And quick as thought it sniffs the air,
The soil, and sifts the odors there.
A hundred kinds of smells we’ll say,
The mould, the moss, the worms, the clay
The drying leaves, the twigs and stones,
The fallen needles and the cones,
The little flowers, the growing plants.
The bugs, the chipmunks and the ants;
And yet that sniffing snoot could tell
Among all these, the one faint smell
That lingered vaguely in the wake
That two swift-striding boots might make.
You marvel at his skill when he,
The master of a symphony,
Detects one jarring note that comes
Up through the beat of many drums,
And tambourines and banging things,
And blaring brass and whining strings;
You cite some instance of the kind
To eulogize the human mind—
To show attainment absolute!
I point you to my Peter’s snoot—
Upon my lap he comes to lay
Its cold, damp tip, still smeared with clay.
Oh, all you hordes of furry brutes,
Be glad you’re blessed with telltale snoots,
So nicely tuned that with a sniff
Of earth or air, you catch the whiff
Of danger there. You mountain sheep,
Superb upon your rocky steep;
You splendid elk, far domiciled
In mountain fastness, coursing wild;
You bonny deer and monster moose,
Brandless, unfenced, will-free and loose;
You wolves couched in your rock-ribbed lairs;
You blubber-padded, big-pawed bears;
You foxes tunneled deep in roots,
Wise was the God Who gave you snoots!