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THE OOLOGIST 



Oniitholog:y in the Rural Districts, or 

 Wonders Will Never Cease. * 



A Spring ode. It is owed to the party men- 

 tioned in it. 



By Neil, F. Posson, Medina, N. Y. 

 Say, Mr. Editor: 

 There is a man in LyndonvlUe 



Who is so wondroup wise, 

 That I am going to write him up. 

 And give him an "advertise." 



(It won't cost him a cent.) 

 I got on my wheel the other day 

 And went down to see the man, 

 And as much wisdom did I acquire 

 That I could hardly get back again. 



(Couldn't carry so much on my wheel.) 

 'Tis the hirds he knows so much about,— 



He has studied them for years,— 

 And his aptness at identity 

 Would fill your eyes with tears. 



(From laughing). 



I am preparing a little list, you know. 



Of all birds that are known to occur 

 Within our county limits: 



And so I have aimed to confer. 

 With all the ornithologists 



Who are scattered the county 'round, 

 And to learn from each observer 



What rare birds he has found. 



Well, I heard of this man at Lyndonville, 

 Whom they said was pretty good,— 



He had taken many birds that were rare,— 

 At least so it was understood. 



(And don't you think he hasn't!) 



And so as I said up there in verse two. 



I went down there the other day 

 To learn what records I might add to my list. 



And how much he knew, anyway. 



(And say! you just better guess,— well.) 



I learned a whole lot of things that day 



That I didn't know before : 

 For instance, he found a nest of the Burrow- 



ing Owl 

 Along the Lake Ontario Shore. 

 {Speotyto cunlcularia hypogva. Oh 'gee, oh!) 



His identity was "positive;"' 



For the nest was "a hole in the ground," 

 And the eggs were white, immaculate, 



And almost perfectly round. 



(Incubation,- — ' 'shure, ' ' ) 



I offered him the suggestion 



That he had found a Kingfishers nest; 

 But he knowingly laughed and wisely re- 

 marked 

 That Kingfishers were confined to the West. 

 (And he ought to know.) 



And then he said tbaS the Sandhill Crane 



Was frequently found here,— 

 In fact, he was- tolerably certain 



Of seeing a few every year. 

 (Said he never was cruel enough to shoot any, 

 though, because they were being extermin- 

 ated fast enough as it was.) 



The Gannet {Sulci Imsaana.) . 



Was "com?n&n" along the lake; 

 And also, along the shore, so he said. 



He had taken the Kittiwake. 



(So he said.) 



And then in a marshy woodland 



Within his own township of Yates ; 

 He had 'found two Prothonotary Warblers' 

 nests, 

 But he didn't have the dates. 

 (Nor the eggs either, nor either of the parent 

 birds.) 



In short, so many rare records he had 

 That if the A. O. U. found it out, 



They would revise their list immediately 

 And change the whole thing about. 



(And I think they ought to, anyway.) 



And if I were to attempt to include in my 

 work 



All the birds which he said that he took 

 My list of county birds would make 



A most voluminous book. 

 (With,— say about 489 species enumerated.) 



Now the name of this Lyndonvillian,— 

 This bird villian, is Willard H. B , 



And don't by any means fail to see him 

 If ever you go that towTi. 

 (He's better known as Barnum's) (with the 

 side-show, Circassian princess, fat woman, 

 and snake-charmer all thrown in.) 



1 presume he thought me "dead easy," 

 And supposed that I swallowed right down, 



All the ornithological news that he told me,— 



But not so, my dear Mr. B . 



("Nay, nay, Pauline.") 



That's all,— my ditty is finished. 

 Of this man so wondrous wise, 

 I have done my best to write him up 

 And give him a free "advertise." 

 (Goodness knows that advertising is the only 

 thing that will ever bring him to the front.) 



* The Ooi-OGISt prints almost anything ori- 

 ginal and of ujerit. which is of interest to the 

 ornithologist and oologist, but is forced to draw 

 the line sharply when It comes to "spring poet- 

 ry" and to positively refuse to allow anything 

 of that nature appear in its columns, the only 

 exception to this rule is made when our old 

 "Friend Posson." in his vernal migrations, 

 drifts among the blue stockings of Boston — 

 where the spirit of the muse is ever endemic 

 and of siifflcient virulence to render one who Is 

 naturally weak, both mentally and constitution- 



