OlogiSTi 





DECEMBER, 1880. 



No. 10. 



The Sandpiper. 



Ai'ross the narrow beach we flit, 



One little Sand) i or and I 

 And l'a>t I trather 1 it l)y l)it, 



The scattered drift-wood l)leacheil and dry, 

 The wihl waves reach their hand for it. 



The wild wind raves, tlie tide runs high 

 As up and down t'lu beach we flit. 



One liltte Sandpiper and I. 



Above our heads the sullen clouds. 



Scud black and swift across the sky. 

 Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds, 



Stand out the white light-house high. 

 Almost as far as eye can reach, 



I see the close-reefed vessels fly. 

 As fast we flit along the beach, 



One little Sandpiper and I. 



I watch him as he skims along 



Uttering his sweit and mournful cry, 

 He starts not at my fitful song, 



Oi' flash of flutt-ring drapery. 

 He has no thougiit >>i any wrong. 



He scans me \\itli a fearless eye. 

 Staunch triemls arc wc, well tried and strong, 



The little Sandpiper and 1. 



Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night, 



When tile loosed i?torm breaks furiously? 

 My drift wood fire will burn so bright. 



To that warm shelter cans't thou fly! 

 I do not fear for thee, though wroth 



The tempest rushes through the sky. 

 For arc we not God's children both. 



Thou, little Sandpiper, and I? 



— Celin Thaxter. 



The Birds on a Farm. 



For many years I have noticed what 

 a mimber of birds will breed on a farm 

 of twenty-eight acres, during a single 

 season. I thought this year I would 

 make some approximation of the niim- 

 ber, never having seen any attempt at 

 such a calculation. My ground consists 

 of ten acres of fruit orchard, and grain 

 "or roots, and eighteen acres of mead- 

 ow, part of which is in corn, about five 

 acres on the highest parts, a brook run- 

 ning on one side of the meadow, and a 

 strip of woodland bounds the opposite 



side. As may be expected the Robins 

 are a numerous class, no less than forty- 

 four nests were built by these birds 

 alone. They commenced building in 

 April, some having two or I think even 

 three nests during the season, as some 

 had young ones in the middle part of 

 August. Of the first nest so many dis- 

 asters occur that they lose their eggs 

 during the early part of the season. In 

 their haste to build, they do so before 

 the foliage affords them much protec- 

 tion from enemies, most of their earlier 

 nest are robbed, either by Crow Black 

 birds. Squirrels, Crows, or other pil- 

 ferers, so that very few of the first nests 

 produce full fledged birds. Nests in 

 the middle of May and June were 

 mostly successful, in July and August 

 they suliered from the violence of 

 storms knocking down their nests. As 

 most of the nests produced four birds, 

 I think it safe to set down the numbers 

 at an average of three birds per nest or 

 one hundred and thirty-two birds, which 

 allows a loss of every fourth nest. One 

 of the first nest of eggs found was a 

 Woodcock's. One of the old birds was 

 killed by a bogus sportsman, a trespas- 

 ser, much to my mortification. The nest 

 was of course abandoned and four beau- 

 tiful eggs destroyed. The house spar- 

 row has found too much of an asylum 

 here, coming in for ten nests, of course 

 all prolific, not less than forty birds. 

 The sweet little song sparrow with his 

 early melody gave seven nests. One was 

 robbed, but six came off victorious with 

 not less than thirty head. Of this bird 

 not more, than half of their nests were 

 found, not being exposed as the Robins 



