How the Story Was Written 83 



ably have been no missions in California, 

 regarded the birds as his " little brothers and 

 sisters." Just as I began the actual writing 

 of this book I picked up in the streets a 

 tiny song sparrow, wounded, unable to fly, 

 and that undoubtedly had been thrust out of 

 its nest In a short time we became close 

 friends and inseparable companions. Hour 

 after hour she sat on my foot, or, better 

 still, perched, with head under her wing, on 

 my left hand, while I wrote with the other. 

 Nothing I did, such as the movement of 

 books, turning of leaves, etc., made her afraid. 

 When I left the room she hopped and flut- 

 tered along after me. She died just as the 

 book was receiving its finishing pages. On 

 account of her ragged and unkempt appear- 

 ance I called her Scraggles; and to her, a 

 tiny morsel of animation, but who had a keen 

 appreciation and reciprocation of a large 

 affection, I dedicate this book. 



When I read this to some of my 

 friends they were moved to tears and 



