116 



THE OOLOGIST 



LEGEND OF THE THREE CROWS 



or 



FOOLS FOR LUCK 



Three black crows sat on a rail fence, 

 Pictures of ebony innocence. 

 Said Sambo to Nigger, "I see a man; 

 Let us beat it from here while we can." 



"I see no man," laughed the saucy 



Nigger. 

 "We can stay here yet quite a while I 



figger." 

 Said Sambo again with a note of alarm, 

 "There's the man with a gun, who 



owns this farm." 



"You're dippy," said Darky, "there's 



no one around; 

 All is quiet with never a sound." 

 Bang! and wise Sambo fell from the 



rail, 

 Dead as a herring or proverbial door 



nail. 



As they scurried away in great alarm. 

 Though neither fool had suffered any 



harm. 

 Gr sped Nigger, "Oh, Lordy! That was 



a close call." 

 Quoth Darkey, "By Gawd! He was 

 right after all." 



A. D. Henderson, 

 Belvidere, Alberta. 



THE RED-TAILED HAWK 



High o'er the valley the Red-tail soars, 

 'Neath him the river eddies and roars. 

 From the azure sky his loud whistled 



scream, 

 Lends wild enchantment to the wood- 

 land stream. 



In the valley below the song-birds sing. 

 With their mingled voices the thickets 



ring, 

 At the Hawk's fierce cry they show 



alarm. 

 For to the birds of the woods he means 



no harm. 



Of all the trees in his sylvan realm, 

 A monarch of the forest — a veteran 



elm, 

 He chose as a site for the coveted nest, 

 The home of his mate where her 

 treasures rest. 



Day by day he guards his mate, 

 Patroling the sky early and late. 

 With a devotion to her that knows no 



fear, 

 He sails the sky as a gallant peer. 



If dangers threaten from sky or land, 

 Or if he detects the approach of man. 

 He observes the enemy with a watch- 

 ful eye. 

 And warns his mate with a piercing 

 cry. 



Oh! mighty bird in thy graceful flight, 



In wide sweeping circles is a noble 

 sight. 



Thou tell'st the world with a piercing 

 scream 



That thou art free and wild as a rag- 

 ing streatn. 



B. J. Blincoe. 



ROTTEN! 



I wish I was an eagle's egg. 



As stale as stale can be. 

 All cuddled down in a big old nest, 



In the top of a white oak tree. 

 Then when a greedy 'ologist 



Climbed up to me in glee, 

 I'd bust my nasty rotten self 



And spatter him with me 



Anon. 



