ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE BIRD. eel | 
yet, as Dr. Coues has well said of the robin, the study 
of many birds may be simply a turn of the head, a 
keen, appreciative ear, or a quick eye at the proper 
moment, all combined, of course, with an abiding 
interest. 
Attention may do much under difficulties, where 
the field is small. Neither need “ physical disabili- 
ties” or the lack of opportunities of travel stand in 
the way if the heart is right. One of our most ob- 
servant field ornithologists is paralyzed on one side; 
another, young and rising, has only one arm; and a 
third, with an international reputation, is a woman, 
hampered with skirts and a great surplus of flesh. 
My study has an octagonal end with three win- 
dows looking southeast, south, and southwest respec- 
tively. They are high, and the blinds are kept well 
up that the tree tops and the sky may be seen. Within 
the view directly from my desk there are (or have been) 
a half dozen elms, a walnut tree, two Siberian crabs, 
a wild crab, several rose bushes, an old stump, two 
trellises, and a flat-topped fence—all within fifty feet. 
By leaning a little away from my desk I can see 
eastward many rather low evergreens (pines), and, 
towering high above them, a honey locust, whose 
long, slim, bare limbs in early spring form a favorite 
perch for many observant migrants. 
On my table stands on its large end an opera glass 
or small field glass, with a focus constantly set for this 
view, and with simply a paper cap (to exclude the 
dust) over the eyepiece end of it. If it were shut 
snugly in its case, the bird might be in another town- 
