'Cloudy and Colder' 



then loot her nest for our own satis- 

 faction, and kill her young that we 

 may feast, but let a blue-jay indulge 

 himself in the delicacies that appeal 

 most to his hearty appetite and our 

 hands go up in horror at the cruel 

 rapacity of his wild untutored nature. 

 Just the same there is a note in his cry 

 I like. It is a challenge to his enemies; 

 the call of the neighboring wild. There 

 is no suggestion of submission; nothing 

 meek or subdued in his attitude. He is 

 a savage. He admits it and glories in 

 it. He is the very incarnation of the 

 sturdy spirit of the northern winter, 

 just as the meadow lark is the tangible 

 embodiment of Maytime joys and 

 happiness. I once thought it good fun 

 to shoot and kill both. Now I had as 

 soon turn the muzzle of the gun upon 

 myself as to bring one of them to 

 earth. 



What a bundle of inconsistencies we 

 are anyhow. While I shot no blue-jays 

 on the day of which I speak I did not 



