bush sparrow? Who can tell six varie- 

 ties? The song sparrow is one of the 

 sweetest, singing even when the stormy 

 winds blow and never is mournful but 

 to make one happy, says "Sweet, sweet, 

 sweet, right merry cheer." 



One day sitting in the hammock, I 

 heard a bird's note near me and spied a 

 young robin which had fallen out of the 

 nest, As I was stooping, trying to feed 

 it, I felt something strike my back, and 

 there was a second which had come down 

 forty or fifty feet from the elm tree and 

 was not killed. We took pity on them 

 and finding they would readily open 

 their mouths for food, we kept them for 

 a whole month. They lived under a 

 peach basket on the safe side of the 

 house, which our cats did not frequent, 

 and they grew fat and were happy. 

 Dickey and Dilly we christened them. 

 Dicky was a bright bird and Dilly was 

 his echo. They learned our steps, on 

 the piazza, and would call for some din- 

 ner or answer our call by a loud chirp. 

 It was a dry month for worms and in 

 one or two meals, they would gulp down 

 all we could dig. They had only twenty- 

 five meals a day and so had to eat 

 soaked cracker and berries with a few 

 worms to make them grow. Thev soon 

 learned to hop on the grass and then to 

 fly a little. 



I would perch them on a low branch 

 and soon Dicky mustered courage to 

 fly back to the piazza. Poor Dilly did 

 not dare and would have to be taken 

 down. Then we would give them a toss 

 from our hand and away thev would fly 

 to a tree. The first night Dicky eluded 

 us and could not be shut up in his safe 

 basket, was an anxious one, but he came 

 and chirped for breakfast before we were 

 up. This was near the end of the month 

 and both birds would light on the wall 

 and chirp loudly for worms and as soon 

 as fed, would flv away till they were 

 hungry again. We feared they would 

 never learn to feed themselves, they 

 were so slow in doing it, and they did 

 not begin until some weeks after they 

 could fly. After they left our care, 

 Dicky occasionally would call to us 

 from the ash tree. We were sure it was 



Dicky for he would answer us. Even 

 as late as October twentieth I heard 

 him. We hoped they joined some flock 

 and went South for the winter. We 

 had more than a little fun in keeping 

 them and trust they will return to us 

 next year. We are sure we should 

 recognize Dicky's bright and earnest call, 

 as we heard it so often. 



Through the summer days we watched 

 the nests around the house, — the golden 

 robin's, hanging from the elm tree ; the 

 bluebird's in an old woodpecker's hole; 

 the barn swallow's, the wren's by the 

 brook on the low branch which could be 

 swung round, bringing the nest close to 

 view ; and the phoebe's, who are old 

 friends, for they merely raised the edge 

 of last year's nest a little higher. We are 

 sure they were the same pair, for the 

 nest is on an unusual place on the ledge 

 over the front door. They would fly 

 back and forth while we sat and talked 

 on the piazza underneath. 



Now the leaves are falling and the 

 birds are going to their winter homes. 

 We saw a large flock that seemed to be 

 resting or seeking food, for they flitted 

 from tree to tree and twenty or thirty 

 would be on the ground together. We 

 saw bluebirds by the dozen among them, 

 chippies, vireos and other little greenish 

 birds we thought might be warblers. 

 The air was full of birds. 



My double's list stands at forty-five 

 at present and our combined list at fifty. 

 But as the authority on birds in our town 

 says that possibly eighty-five mav be 

 seen here, we still have more to learn. 



How pleasant it is to continue gain- 

 ing knowledge whatever one's years may 

 be ! And all through the year, from 

 January to January again, as we have 

 sought the birds, we can say with 

 Thoreau, "Each new year is a surprise 

 to us. We find that we had virtually 

 forgotten the note of each bird, and 

 when we hear it again, it is remembered 

 like a dream, reminding us of a previous 

 state of existence. How happens it 

 that the associations it awakens are al- 

 ways pleasing, never saddening, remi- 

 niscences of our sanest hours. The 

 voice of Nature is always encouraging." 

 Lucie A. Peabody. 



