U 



THE GLIDE To NATURE. 



monc^ ^.vpende i is sufficient to provide 

 roomy cages, spacious yards and an 

 extensive lake. 



The bird- are well fed, lovingly cared 

 for and consequently happy. Their 

 homes arc as near to nature a- is that 

 < if their i iwner. 



Not all of us can keep so man}- birds 

 and make them as happy as can Mr. 

 Tilley. because the most of us cannot 

 devote so much time and money to 

 their care. But all of US can copy his 

 example in quality if not In quantity. 

 Keep only as many as you can thor- 

 oughly study and efficiently care for, 

 and keep just as good quality as you 

 can afford. There is great satisfac- 

 tion in doing even a little if that little 

 is done well. 



One more thought came frequently 

 to mind as I strolled through the 

 grounds with my camera. Here lives 

 a biologist. Biologv is the science of 



life, and a biologisl is one wno studies 

 thai science. < me who studies a swan 

 or a duck in the right spirit is as truly 

 a biologist as one who peers through a 

 fifth-inch objective at daphnia or cy- 

 clop-. Both are studying swimming 

 creatine-. Isn't it absurd to magnify 

 the science and the scientist in propor- 

 tion as the swimmer is minimized? Mr. 

 Tilley's lake is a larger aquarium and 

 his grounds a more extensive laborator) 

 than the usual accessories of a biolo- 

 gist. But large or small it is the spirit 

 that counts ; not where, nor the size, 

 bnt how. We are glad to hold high and 

 to exploit to all AA members and other 

 students and lovers of nature, Mr. G. 

 D. Tilley's example as a naturalist and 

 a biologist, and to tell the readers of 

 The Guide to Nature at home and 

 abroad that here at Darien, Connecti- 

 cut, is a home near to nature in loca- 

 tion, spirit and practice. 



Spring Flowers. 



BY EDMUND J. SAWYER. SCHENECTADY, 

 NEW YORK. 



However well rounded the year, 

 however gradual and continuous seem 

 to be the waxing and waning of the 

 seasons as we look back to them, the 

 natural objects of wood and field do not 

 convey such an impression. Sitting 

 thoughtfully at home, we liken the first 

 flowers of spring to the first fall of 

 snow. First an odor in the wood or 

 field, a sparkle of frost in the autumn 

 air — a beginning, a prophecy. "We 

 speak too arbitrarily of nature's proph- 

 ecies. She knows chiefly fulfillments. 

 From bud to fruit is a series of fulfill- 

 ments. 



Yes the tiniest blossom of May is an 

 end in itself. The first windflower is a 

 consummation. The bluebells which we 

 pluck for a buttonhole need no apol- 



ogy, and that is why we pluck them. 

 It is the same with the spray of apple 

 blossoms which we bring from the or- 

 chard ; its beauty is perfect, complete. A 

 reflection on the fruit, to which it may 

 seem to point, cannot add one jot to its 

 present charm. Such a consideration 

 rather tends to dispel this charm. The 

 beauty of the fruit is largely a beauty 

 of its practical utility. The beauty of 

 the blossom, to me. is beauty for its 

 own sake; it is beautifully unpractical. 

 It is the crystal pure beauty, so evi- 

 dently transcendant in the flowers, 

 which to me constitutes the flowers' 

 real and most peculiar charm. 



We Americans are criticised for our 

 materialism. One of the saddest things 

 that T have known was the embodiment 

 of such materialism in an otherwise 

 specially attractive child, and due, no 

 doubt, to parental influence. I took 



