A PRAIRIE PET. 229 



to bring the visible supply of bluebirds up numerically to the point 

 held prior to the death-dealing storm. 



Frank S. Chapman, of the American Museum of Natural History, 

 accounts for the apparently wonderful recovery of the bluebirds by 

 the fact that they are indispensable to nature and that no other 

 bird could in the period of their scarcity take their place in the 

 scheme of bird life. In this connection Mr. Chapman said the 

 other day : 



"The bluebird is practically restored to the position he held 

 prior to the destructive blizzard of 1895. He is again vigorous and 

 plentiful, and the fear entertained at that time that he was to be 

 accounted among the rarities has been more than discounted. It 

 was not until this year, however, that the birds have been recruit- 

 ed up to their full standard. It has taken just eight years for their 

 recoupment. ' ' 



Central Park, the oasis of green in a desert of city buildings, 

 is declared by those who know to be among the best possible places 

 for the study of bird life and habits. Because of its position more 

 birds gather there than in five times the space in the open country, 

 and this accounts for the constantly increasing number of students 

 who avail themselves of its opportunities. — Neiv York Evening 

 'Post. 



A Prairie Pet. 



I have rarely seen an animal of any kind that could be made a pet 

 of without trying to get one of them to experiment on. The prai- 

 rie dog was one that I at last got. I at first tried to drown them 

 out of their burrows in spring, when I thought there would be 

 young ones among them ; but pouring water in one of these holes 

 is much like pouring it into a rat hole. Their burrows would some- 

 times get flooded in a heavy rain, and then I could catch them and 

 get my hands bitten all over. They have teeth sharp as needles, 

 and they know how to tise them. I caught an old one, a male, and 

 putting a cord round his neck, broiight him home and staked him 

 out on the grass. In a short time he began to dig a hole ; he meant 

 to stay. I let him keep at work on it a while, then took the cord 

 off his neck. He put down a slanting hole about three feet long, 

 with a small chamber at the bottom ; then made his bed in the 

 chamber, using dead grass for a bed. I got him hay and excelsior, 

 and he used these to make his bed. Every week or two I would 



