8o 



THE GUIDE TO NATURE 



Birds Drowned in Oil. 



"The Standard Oil Bulletin" has a 

 startling item in regard to waterfowl 

 that through an error of judgment set- 

 tled into a pool of oil, mistaking it for 

 water. Sometimes these oil lakes 

 cover acres of ground, and in the night 

 or during the beautiful desert twilight 

 and in the windless dawn, these tar 

 colored pools resemble bodies of water. 



"Instinct does not always save the 

 birds. Men employed around the 

 great Lakeview sump tell how th-^ 

 migratory waterfowl, flock after flock, 

 dropped out of the turquoise sky and 

 plunged into that lake of oil. Majestic 

 pelicans, deliberate of flight ; snow 

 geese, hawks, fast-flying canvassbacks 

 and ducks of all varieties that take the 

 annual trip from Alaska to the flats of 

 the lower Colorado river, alighted by 

 the thousands in that oil sump, never 

 to rise again. When these struck, their 

 feathers became saturated with oil 

 and their flying days were over. Many 

 would remain on the surface, to be 

 soon overcome by the heat and fumes 

 of rising gas. Others would dive when 

 excited or closely pressed. One old 

 watchman long in the fields maintained 

 that they committed suicide. The 

 sight of birds struggling in the oil and 

 countless blackened bodies floating on 

 the surface had not the effect of deter- 

 ring others from making the fatal 

 plunge." 



This seems to be an example of the 

 birds' inability to reason or to learn 

 from observation. 



An Efficient Lecturer on Birds. 



~\\r. Frederic S. \\'el:)ster of the Ames 

 Studio, Colonia Building, 379 Fifth 

 Avemie, New York City, is giving illus- 

 trated lectures of deep interest on the 

 wonder-world of bird life. Mr. Webster 

 has had long and varied experiences not 

 only with wild birds but with birds in 

 cantivitv. He has been preoarator- in- 

 chief of zoological specimens in the Car- 

 negie Museum and other large establish- 

 ments. His exoerience covers a period 

 of more than forty years of continual 

 association with birds and the assiduous 

 study of their habits. His lectures show 

 a real acquaintance with birds, their per- 

 sonalities, characteristics, their haunts, 

 habits and methods of life. 



Yes, the Blue Jay Can Sing. 



Miss Edith A. Wright of Chatfield, 

 Minnesota, reports an interesting ex- 

 perience. She has heard a blue jay 

 singing at four o'clock in the morning 

 She gives a vivid description of the 

 "rapturous song" that suggested a 

 vision of pure water sparkling and 

 tinkling over a rocky bed. 



She is right in asserting that the 

 song was appealing. To me the sound 

 suggests the tinkling of broken glass. 



The United States, although the great- 

 est grain-producing country of the world, 

 has almost the lowest yield per acre. 



The United States Bureau of Ethnol- 

 ogy estimates that at coming of the 

 White Man to this continent there were 

 within the present limits of the United 

 States about eight hundred and sixty 

 thousand Indians. The number is now 

 about one-third of this. 



Nature's Invitations. 



Kind Nature's invitations, 



You will find them evervwhere. 



They are nestling- in the blossoms. 

 They are floating on the air. 



They are in the lofty treetops, 



And in the lowly weeds, 

 Spread broadcast in their blooming. 



Far-wafted in their seeds. 



They are in the waves of ocean, 



And on the glistening sand, 

 Thev are in the waving grain-fields 



That we see on either hand. 



They are on the mountain ramparts. 



And on the dimpled hills. 

 They are thundering in the mighty falls. 



And whispering in the rills. 



They are in the sunrise glory. 



And in the sunset glow. 

 They cotne patterinQ- in the raindrops. 



And feathery white in snow. 



They are in the mists of morning, 



And in the starlit night. 

 Abroad in velvet darkness. 



And glancing in the light. 



They are in the birds' sweet singing. 



And in the insects' hum. 

 And in the woodland murmurs. 



Which softly bid us "come." 



Thev are ever in our pathway, 

 Thev are alwavs ri<?ht at hand. 



Then let us not be churlish. 

 But show we understand. 



— Emma Peirce. 



