J^ott^ from iFielb anb Mvi^P 



A Yellow Rail in a Street 



On September 14, 1920, when reading 

 on the porch, my neighbor called to me 

 to ask what the queer bird was that was 

 walking in the middle of the street. What 

 was my surprise to see a Yellow Rail 

 coming toward the curb ! 



It took refuge among some petunias 

 that formed a border along the curb, and 

 it did not move as I got down to within 

 two feet of it to study it. 



That so shy a bird should land on a 

 much traveled street in the heart of 

 Chicago seemed strange indeed. It was 

 a disappointment that I could not watch 

 it till it moved on. — Gladys Fowler, 

 Chicago, Ills. 



SAW-WHET OWL 



Photographed by Lawrence Zeleny, at 



Minneapolis, Minn., March 13, 1920 



A Flicker's Food 



In a poem by the writer, " Mr. Flicker 

 Writes a Letter", printed in Bird-Lore 

 for August, 1899, are these lines in connec- 

 tion with his food habits: 



"But my delicacy is ants. 

 Stump or hill inhabitants; 

 Thrusting in my sticky tongue, 

 So I take them, old and young." 

 Running back from our house in Pasa- 

 dena is a walk made of the natural clay, 

 packed down to nearly the hardness of a 

 brick. For years I have seen occasionally 

 upon that walk one of our beautiful 

 California Flickers. But he seemed to be 

 always on the watch. A slightest move- 

 ment at the near-by. window, or on the 

 screened porch, would send him flying 

 with his brilliant under-wing display of 

 old gold. It will be remembered that his 

 coin is of a darker yellow than that of his 

 eastern cousin. I had supposed that my 

 'Golden Wings' came occasionally, like 

 the California Thrasher, for crumbs that 

 are put out dajly for the smaller birds. 

 But today I glimpsed him first and learned 

 what he was after. Going through the porch 

 very slowly I escaped his vision till I 

 could get my head fixed at the edge of a 

 curtain for observation: and he was very 

 busy. Just beneath that brick-like surface 

 the small brown ants have burrows. Lead- 

 ing to these are openings in which a small 

 lead pencil might be inserted. Mr. Flicker 

 was pegging away first at one hole then 

 another, enlarging and tracing them out. 

 Then he would insert his bill far as possible 

 and one could imagine the catch on his 

 tongue, and detect the quick movement of 

 swallowing. But not five seconds elapsed 

 without his lifting his head high to take 

 a sweeping observation. After watching 

 him for several moments I retraced my 

 steps carefully hoping to leave him undis- 

 turbed in his enjoyment. I was well within 

 the house door when he took the alarm and 



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