THE OOLOGIST 



115 



What a vigorous life he leads, 

 Digging worms at early dawn, 



Carrying grass and bits of leaves 

 To the apple tree from our front 

 lawn. 



But now that worms are everywhere. 



And days are long and hot, 

 He seems entirely free from care 



As he loafs about the lot. 

 At sun-up or twilight hour 



How prone he is to hide, 

 No recital from the orchard bower, 



He's completely satisfied. 



While tramping thru the elder copse 



With kodak in your arm, 

 Reluctantly he flies or hops 



Indifferently to fear or harm. 

 Our Robin's v/ealth of food you see 



Has brought about content. 

 He's lost all individuality, 



Like some fat old lazy gent. 



Gerard Alan Abbott. 



"AN EGG HOARDER'S NIGHTMARE" 



I lay in bed a dreaming, my eyes wide 



open stare. 

 And notes cf birds a-singing, come in 



with the midnight air. 

 My cabinet starts a mo vine, with 



trays all cpen wide, 

 And my eggs begin to speakhig, while 



my face I try to hide. 

 Says one egg of the Blue Bird, as if 



speaking for the re.^t, 

 "What do you want with all of us — 



why take us from our nest?" 

 The Robins then came dancing thru 



and shoved the Blue Bird egg aside, 

 "A hundred eggs you have of me, a 



hundred birdies have died." 

 1 then beheld the worst of all, I saw 



my Hawk eggs rise, 

 I knew quite well what they would 



say, and I tried to close my eyes, 

 ' E2.CI1 yea;- you take me from my nest 



fiid place me with the others, 

 A dozen sets you have by now all 



taken from my mother. 



You surely don't need all of us, why 



not let one set live — - 

 You might — " but here I heard no more, 



my eyes were closing tight. 

 1 turned my head away from them, 



and stared blankly out the hall, 

 But out they came a tripping, thru the 



flowery papered wall. 

 All dancing in a circle, from the large 



down to the small, 

 "Little Hummer," said the Eagle, as 

 they danced around my bed, 

 "That dirty brute has hoarded us, let's 



go climb on his head." 

 You worry him around the ears and 



pull his eye-brows cut. 

 But leave that ruffian's face to me, you 



know my claws are stout." 

 The Hummer started buzzing, with 



only a Hummer's grace. 

 And the Eagle sank his talons deep i-i 



my shameful face. 

 Oh God, how my face was aching, as 1 



recalled the Eagle's nest. 

 And me gloating o'er the prospects ot 



hoarding them with the rest. 

 The little Hummer unconcerned, still 



pulled my eye-brows out, 

 By now 1 plainly saw her nest, which 



the summer winds switched about. 

 The Eagle was still clawing me, as I 



prayed God leave me rest. 

 And alas, 1 was awt.ken, with the 



house-cat on my breast. 



Now friends and ornithologists, may 



my dream to you be clear. 

 Don't try to hoard them all at once, 

 there'll be another year. 



George E. Maxon, 

 Ft. Worth, Texas. 



T? 



