New Walks in Old Ways 



ball lying in a heel-hole in the sand 

 when a strange, queer-looking creature 

 of fat girth, and lugging a whole lot of 

 legs and things, is waiting to become 

 acquainted with you? I took two or 

 three shots to get out of there, but I 

 had found a new friend. 



On the next tee I hooked my shot 

 into a ditch near a clump of willows. 

 The boy got there first, and located 

 not only the ball but a flicker sitting 

 on a lower limb wrestling with himself. 

 Moulting of course. First the bird 

 yanked out one of those canary-colored 

 feathers that grow on the under-side 

 of the wings, and then, with his sharp 

 little toes, scratched his head as vigor- 

 ously as if "Kernel Cootie" himself 

 had hold of his red-trimmed bonnet. 

 Incidentally, I noticed also that there 

 was one tree in that clump that needed 

 trimming badly. Tomorrow I would 

 go down there, and help it out of its 

 evident trouble. Meantime, someone 

 playing up behind us yells "Fore!" 



[56] 



