Like the robin and the English sparrow, the yellow warbler has little fear 

 of man. It may be found in the woods, the fields, the orchards, the parks, and 

 the garden. If there is a tree or a shrub on your premises, you may expect a 

 daily visit from this friendly little creature as it searches here and there among 

 leaves and branches for its food, which consists of larvae, caterpillars and the 

 eggs of insects. 



While it is calling upon you, you may expect to hear a little song which 

 aptly describes the singer itself, for it seems to say, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweetie. 

 By gentle treatment you may induce this bird to build its nest in your shrubbery 

 or trees where you can watch the family for many days. A contribution of cotton 

 batting for nest-lining will be gratefully accepted. A shallow dish fastened to 

 a tree and supplied daily with fresh water for drinking and bathing purposes 

 will hold the warblers to your grounds and attract many, other birds as well. 



The remarkable intelligence of the yellow warbler is shown in the plan by 

 which it often avoids the task of hatching the eggs laid in its nest by the heartless 

 cowbird. Being too small to remove the unwelcome egg, it frequently bridges 

 its nest and builds a second story above and upon the first, thus leaving the strange 

 egg unhatched. An invasion of the second nest by the cowbird sometimes follows, 

 when the addition of a third story may result. If, however, the warbler has 

 laid some of its own eggs before the cowbird comes to its nest, it may decide, 

 after an excited discussion of the matter with its mate, to hatch all eggs together 

 rather than desert its own. Few of the small birds have either wisdom or determi- 

 nation of the yellow warbler, and hence they accept the burden of raising cow- 

 birds without realizing the fraud practiced upon them. 



"The Birds of Killingworth" 



By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 



You call them thieves and pillagers ; but know 

 They are the winged wardens of your farms, 



Who from the cornfields drive the insidious foe, 

 And from your harvests keep a hundred harms. 



Even the blackest of them all, the crow. 

 Renders good service as your man-at-arms, 



Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail, 

 And crying havoc on the slug and snail. 



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