A HERMIT'S WILD FRIENDS 



grow old in looks and is yet good for many 

 years, if his wife does not worry him to death. 



Dear old Wabbles. He has blessed me with 

 a friendship as sincere and lasting as any that 

 can spring from the human heart. As the 

 years go by, I am more and more impressed 

 with the little bird's individuality. Long ago 

 he proved to me that he possessed a moral 

 sense. 



When Wabbles finds birds in the dooryard 

 he threatens them for a short time, then darts 

 at the nearest, and the feathers fly. After 

 he has satisfied his appetite he will let the 

 other birds return to glean the dooryard. He 

 does not want to deprive them of food, but 

 insists that they shall await his pleasure. 

 Sometimes he will sing while the birds are 

 eating. He firmly believes that he holds a 

 mortgage on the dooryard, or, perhaps, that 

 he is a joint owner with me; but he insists 

 that his property rights must be respected. 



One afternoon I found a wounded chickadee 

 in the dooryard. Some wretch had shot away 

 one leg and had injured a wing besides. I 

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