M a s s a chu s ett s A u duh n S ci ety 7 



The delighted group on the piazza was now quietly watching the 

 whole performance through opera-glasses, feeling as if in box seats at a 

 very interesting show. 



After leaving baby number three in our elm tree, Mother Squirrel 

 visited her old apartment across the street once more, but it was as if 

 to make sure that she left it in order for she returned alone. She ran 

 towards the rubbish-pile in the corner of our garden and carried several 

 branches of twigs and dry leaves to the new nest as if taking up extra 

 bedding to make her children comfortable in their new home. 



One of our party said: "Don't you understand how foresighted she 

 is? This is the thirty-first of August, and she wants to get the family 

 all settled before the first of September." 



We wondered so much why she considered our garden a better place 

 than the tree on the other side of the street. Was it noisy over there? 

 Had a cat molested her babies? But a scientific man versed in the ways 

 of squirrels told us that they probably moved for the very unromantic 

 reason of too many fleas in the first nest! 



Now that the leaves have gone we can see the new home up in our 

 elm tree and sometimes catch a glimpse of the squirrels going in and out 

 of the entrance which is on the western side of the nest. 



M. E. Cogswell. 



A COURAGEOUS CHICKADEE 



In the cold winter days come a band of wee, blithesome birdies to 

 our front yard, to feast on the suet and seeds we put out for them. One 

 sad day a little chickadee was struck down and maimed by a cat. 



I picked it up from the snow, that tiny bunch of gray and black and 

 white, and the stricken mite defended itself valiantly by pecking my 

 fingers. 



But when I brought it into my warm room and placed it in a snug 

 box, Chickadee presently became quite trustful and lost all fear of human 

 folk. Here, anyhow, was protection, and still some good in life. Our 

 wee guest spied about the new strange world of the room, and became 

 at home. 



It did not give in to its helplessness. Though legs and wings were 

 almost useless from the cruel stroke that had robbed it of sweet liberty, 

 it did not mope or sulk over its hurt. Instead it kept briskly though 

 awkwardly busy reaching for and eating the seeds and crumbs we scat- 

 tered in its box. And even though almost every quick little flounce it 

 made caused it to tumble on its side, or clear over on its back, it always 

 persevered, in whatever position, waiting on itself. Earnestly attending 

 to its tasks of exercise and food, with forest-born independence — lacking 

 only the power! 



Sorrowful wholly had Chickadee's misfortune appeared, but for the 

 miracle of its pluck. As often as it would try to get up afoot (this once 

 so nimble acrobat) or to flit up on the low edge of the box, it still would 

 fail of the simple endeavor, defeated, most often to spin over on its little 

 back and lie helpless so, but undiscouraged. Then, if one of us were by, 

 the little cripple was picked up and placed right side up once more. 



It grew quite tame to handling. Wonderful was the hardy, indomit- 

 able spirit with which it took its troubles, always bright-eyed and perky 



