WILD LIB'E OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



vessels, left behind, grow larger and greener day 

 by day, he observes with interest the fattening of 

 the little apples (beloved also of many insects), 

 speculates on the prospect of a good yield, and 

 by August tries his teeth on a yellowish one that 

 has fallen, and perhaps finds a palatable bit on 

 that side next the sun. 



Then how the red and yellow and russet apples 

 lie in bright, redolent heaps on the grass, forming 

 zones about each trunk that reflect the afternoon 

 sunlight as it glints ruddily among the branches 

 and shimmers through the September haze in a soft 

 glory; and what suggestions stir the mind of cider 

 and winter-evening cheer to come! 



This orchard is beloved of all birds, but with 

 some it is a chosen and constant home. Here may 

 be heard the disconsolate plaint of the wood-pewee, 

 whose nest is a prize for sharp eyes — a tiny cup of 

 bark shreds saddled upon a bough and covered 

 with lichens, looking just like an old knot or scar; 

 but the downy cup of the humming-bird will be an 

 even greater prize. Of course, the robin, the brown 

 thrush, the cat-bird, and that busybody the wren, 

 are to be seen there every day, and now and then a 

 bliiejay or cuckoo. Here, too, reside the king- 

 bird and his less familiar cousin, the great-crested 



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