Notes from Field and Study 



317 



A tree trunk can thus be well stocked 

 for several feet up from the ground, and, 

 in a locality free from marauding cats, 

 prove to be a source of interest and 

 amusement for old and young alike, 

 besides furnishing a splendid place for 

 bird photography. — Ethel A. Nott, 

 Reedsburg, Wis. 



Wheat-Wheat, a True Story 



One da}^ in the autumn when I went out 

 to look after my poultry, I discovered, to 

 my great delight, a flock of six or seven 

 Bob-whites quietly picking up grain with 

 the chickens. They were rather cautious, 

 and gathered only those kernels that had 

 been scattered the farthest away. 



At intervals afterward we would hear 

 the pleasant bob-white, old bob-white, call 

 from the stone-fence thicket; then in the 

 midst of the clover blooms across the 

 road; again from the top rail in the 

 orchard. But by and by winter set in with 

 its snow and sleet and biting cold, and, 

 as we gathered in the evening around our 

 own cheerful fire, we often talked about 

 our little friends and wondered if they had 

 found a comfortable shelter. 



One morning after a severe blizzard, a 

 neighbor and I were passing a hazel 

 thicket which grew by the side of a ditch, 

 when something attracted our attention. 

 Alas ! Here, all huddled together, were the 

 little frozen bodies of our friends. Two, 

 however, showed signs of life, so we each 

 placed one inside of our cloaks and hur- 

 ried to the house, where, with warmth, 

 they soon revived. But one had his legs 

 frozen up to his body, and finally died. 

 The other, a female, became as tame as any 

 chicken, and lived in our kitchen, where 

 we had placed a small box of chaff for her 

 bed. When spring opened, we offered her 

 her liberty, but she always returned, and, 

 if the window was shut, would tap on the 

 pane and call to us in her pleasing little 

 voice, which resembled a whispered 

 wheat, wheat. 



One day when she was outside, sud- 

 denly there came a call from the gate- 

 post close by, bob-while, old bob-white. 



Little Wheat- Wheat was frightened and 

 fluttered to the window, where she tapped 

 loudly for us to let her in. So long had 

 she mingled with only us humans as com- 

 panions she had forgotten her 'kith 

 and kin.' 



But Mr. Bob-white was an ardent 

 wooer, and often we would hear close-by 

 the familiar caU, bob-white, bob-white. 

 Gradually Wheat-Wheat became ac- 

 quainted, and finally made rambles away 

 with her new friend, but returned to us at 

 intervals, and always to her box at night. 

 One day, while driving Daisy home from 

 pasture, she carelessly stepped on a nest 

 in a bunch of coarse grass close to the edge 

 of the slough. It was Wheat- Wheat's 

 nest of thirteen eggs, and all were crushed 

 but four. We carefully arranged the nest 

 and replaced the four uninjured white eggs, 

 but Wheat- Wheat never went near it 

 again, and she disappeared about three 

 weeks later. 



An old white turkej' hen had stolen her 

 nest somewhere, so I decided to go and 

 search carefully all through the tangle of 

 woodbine and blackberries that clambered 

 over the old stone wall. I stopped to 

 gather some prairie roses that leaned 

 against the old wall, when my hand 

 touched something! Instantly the old 

 turkey and her nest faded into oblivion, 

 for there, right in the center of the bush, 

 concealed so carefully, was a nest full of 

 tin}' white empty shells. The secret was 

 out. The brood had hatched and were 

 somewhere near us. Soon afterward we 

 found them, and Wheat-Wheat with 

 them, as proud as any bantam hen you 

 ever saw. The old stone fence enclosed one 

 side of the pasture, with a gateway of bars 

 in the center. Here Wheat-Wheat and 

 her children spent the rest of the summer, 

 and often passed back and forth through 

 the gap. Every day grain and bread 

 crumbs were scattered at the bars for 

 them. By autumn, they, ten in number, 

 were all full-fledged Bob-whites. 



Just before winter set in they left us, and 

 Wheat- Wheat with them. It seemed like 

 parting with one of the family. — -Mrs. 

 Lena Waite, Rochester. Wis. 



