"Cdben Grass is Green 



prides himself as the head of creation, should be 

 so very weak and helpless in fact when attacked 

 by the lower forms of life. His wonderful powers 

 do not avail much when there are mosquitoes on 

 the inside of the window screen. Here I was, in a 

 hot field, in danger almost of sunstroke, with a 

 haven of rest in full view, and yet I dare not enter 

 it, because of a swarm of mosquitoes. It was very 

 provoking, to say the least, and I rather concluded 

 that man lives not because nature is favorable 

 to his needs, but really in spite of her. While 

 thus musing and about to take another start for 

 home, a little breeze sprang up, and I could see 

 the mosquito cloud again in the air, so I again ven- 

 tured to the three oaks and found the coast clear. 

 Drinking cautiously of the cool waters I was again 

 ready for the birds, but where were they? I waited 

 and waited, but there was no sound, except that of 

 the trickling waters, and the creaking of the field 

 crickets in the open. I tried an old plan, that of 

 squeaking like a young bird, and this succeeded. 

 One by one the birds came back, and looked at 

 me as before; looked and scolded. It was very 

 tiresome, but it was too hot to plan new adven- 

 tures. If I stayed, I must put up with it. But why 

 had the birds absented themselves at my second 

 coming ? Was it a plan on their part to deceive 

 me, thinking I would go away if they were not 

 present. 



This implies that birds have language, and birds 

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