The Birds’ Calendar 
One morning, as I was watching the pranks of 
a ‘‘yellow-rump,’’ darting hither and thither, 
apparently as much from exuberance of spirits 
as with foraging intent, my attention was called 
to a large pearl and white colored bird high in 
a tree on the border of the Lake, a jet black 
stripe on its head and back, feet and legs brightly 
colored, and its long dark bill sunk in the feath- 
ers of the breast, as if fast asleep. In its im- 
movable position and bare surroundings it was 
a most picturesque emblem of solitude, one of 
those slight but suggestive touches in nature that 
one is constantly stumbling upon. 
In my helpless ignorance of what it was, I 
grasped at a straw, and asked a policeman near 
by if he could enlighten me. Now, experience 
has taught me that, like many other people in 
the world, a policeman feels a deep sense of hu- 
miliation if obliged to confess that he is unable 
to answer any question propounded to him ; and 
this one in particular, who was not better than 
his fathers, promptly and with half contemptu- 
ous tone told mé it was aduck. His assurance 
was of course not lessened by the fact that he 
had not fully seen the bird. At first I felt 
crushed by his wisdom and my own stupidity, 
forgetting for the instant that the creature in 
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