THE OPEN WINDOW 



a hermit thrush alights on your window sill not more 

 than two feet from your moving fingers, gazes intently 

 at you, wags his tail once or twice, then calmly turns 

 his back and helps himself to dangling berries, 

 you have a queer feeling of being admitted into the 

 mysteries of an inner circle hitherto undreamed of. 

 It is not only the opportunity of studying each feather, 

 each detail, each motion of the living bird which pleases 

 you, but the sense of mutual confidence and trust which 

 at each repetition of this conduct fills you with exultant 

 satisfaction. 



137 



