WABBLES 



ago. On returning to my log cabin one after- 

 noon, I had found him in the dooryard, 

 wounded, bleeding, and exhausted. An ex- 

 amination disclosed a number four shot bedded 

 in the muscle of the wing- joint. While I 

 was removing the lead Wabbles struggled 

 violently, and when released, hopped into the 

 bushes and hid himself. I think he held a 

 poor opinion of my surgical skill. The next 

 day he was about the dooryard with other 

 sparrows, but for many days his flight was 

 a peculiar wabble, hence his name. 



Wabbles was left behind when, on the ap- 

 proach of cold weather, the song-sparrows 

 migrated southward. He -seemed contented, 

 and I thought he would stop with me through 

 the winter, but one cold day he was missing. 



Early in the following March, I looked out 

 upon the snow-banks one blustering morning, 

 and saw Wabbles in the dooryard. He had 

 returned in the night, two weeks ahead of his 

 mates. I do not know how far south he had 

 wintered, but doubtless he had remembered 

 the little log cabin in the woods, and all the 



