THE SAGE SPARROW. 



117 



THANK God for the sage-brush ! It is not merely tliat it clothes the 

 desert and makes its wastes less arid. No' one needs to apologize for the 

 unclad open, nr to shun it as tho it were an unclean thing. Only little souls 

 do this, — those who, being used tO' small spaces, miss the support of crowding 

 elbo'ws, and are frightened into peevish complaint when asked to stand alone. 

 To the manly spirit there is exultation in mere space. The ground were 

 enough, the mere Expanse, with the e\er-matching lilue of the hopeful sky. 

 but when to this is added the homely verdure of the untilled ground, the cup 

 of joy is filled. One snatches at the sage as tlio it were the symbol of all the 

 wild openness, and Ijuries his nostrils in its pungent branches to compass at 

 a whiff this realm of unpent gladness. Prosy? Monotonous? Faugh! 

 Back to the city with you! You are not fit for the wilderness unless you 

 love its \'erv \\orm- 

 wood. 



Tlie sage has interest 

 or not, to be sure, ac- 

 cording to the level 

 f r o m which it is 

 V i e w e d . Regarded 

 from the supercilio'us 

 level of the man-on- 

 horseback, it is a mere 

 hindrance to the piir- 

 suit of the erring steer. 

 The man a-foot has 

 some dim perception of 

 its beauties, but if his 

 errand is a long one he, 

 too, wearies of his de- 

 vious course. Those 

 who are best of all 

 fitted to appreciate its infinite variety of gnarled branch and velvet leaf, and 

 to revel in its small mysteries, are simple folk, — rabbits, lizards, and a few 

 birds who have chosen it for their life portion. Of these, some look up tO' it 

 as to the trees of an ancient forest and are lost in its mazes ; but of those who 

 know it from the ground up, none is more loyal than the Sage Sparrow. 

 Whether he gathers a breakfast, strewn upon the ground, among the red, 

 white, and blue, of storkbill, chickweed, and fairy-mint, or whether he explores 

 the crevices of the twisted sage itself for its store of shrinking beetles, his 

 soul is filled with a vast content. 



Here in the springtime he soon gets full enough for utterance, and mounts 

 the topmost sprig of a sage bush t» voice his thanks. In general character 



Taken in Douglas Coujity. Photo by W. Leon Dawson. 



S.-\GE SP.\RROW OX .\EST. 



THIS BIRD WAS .^JOT THE VICTIM OF THE MISFORTUNE MENTIONED 

 IN THE TEXT. 



