Glow Worm and Mockingbird 



By F. P. Powell 



As we went down our garden walk the other evening we saw a glow wonii 

 resting on the edge of a mockingbird's bungalow. Just why he did not i)ut out 

 his lantern as we came along we do not know, but keeping it lit. he showed us 

 the little fellows inside the nest. Our Southern glow worms, you must remember, 

 are not the little sparks of your Northern garden, but are real torches — streamers 

 sometimes two or three feet in length, and lasting for two or three minutes at a 

 time. It was well worth the while! A country house built by a bird and the 

 whole family enjoying the moonlight evening! 



The cardinal birds had been visiting us, and had taken baths in a concrete 

 basin behind the power house: but we had had no indication of an adoption, nor 

 of a thank you. Occasionally a brilliant fellow had dropped down with his wife 

 into the chicken yard, to dine with the Rhode Island Reds. One day last week 

 we found a couple evidently intending to home it with us, and not long after we 

 found the home in a kuniquat tree. It had been built and furnished clicaply but 

 handsomely, and snugly in the trundle bed lay three young birds. Already these 

 chaps, fed from our chicken cribs, have fledged and flown. Instead of having 

 food carried to them they come now with their parents and have Icamcd how to 

 liberally help themselves. 



Every morning we are waked up just before daybreak with a call from the 

 mulberry tree, with "wake up. wake up"; but sometimes it is "get out. get out." 

 Not much trouble is taken to infuse music into the order, and yet we do not take 

 it amiss. It is a broad hint not to lose the glory of the morning, and we are quite 

 willing to take it. Really it seems to be meant for laggard folk, to get out of bed 

 with the dawn; and why not? Daybreak is the best of the day, and the birds 

 have found it out. 



We are watching now to see what will be done with the ini])ty nest. Will 

 another litter of eggs be laid, to add to our tenants? Really a home is not a home 

 until the birds have found )()u out. If you are planting and living as you should, 

 with plenty of shade, plenty of water and ]ilenty of food, the birds will soon 

 discover it, and those that feel safe with you will bide with you. It was a long 

 while before we could get the wood thrushes to put their nests near our house, 

 and the orioles stole our cherries several years before they swung their nests in 

 our orchard, but they came nearer, and at last homed in our orchard. 



We love all birds, that is, nearly .ill. excepting English sparrows, bluejays 

 and that sort of oriole that sticks his l)ill into forty cherries, spoiling what he 

 cantiot eat. We have no symi>athy for hawks, not if the government does send 

 out bulletins every month in their apology. Rut what would life be without 

 plenty of catbirds, with robins, and grosbeaks, goldfinches in the North ; with 

 nut-hatches and chickadees for winter? .\nd down here it does not become 

 tolerable until the mockingbirds and cardin.il birds bid us good morning and good 

 night. 



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