290 Clear Skies and Cloudy. 



vinced long before the ornithologist comes to 

 a definite conclusion. When there is agree- 

 ment, the question is settled forever ; when a 

 divergence, the element of probability lies in the 

 farmer's direction. The birds about a farm- 

 house door-yard are not always the birds in the 

 books, and for one I prefer the former and what 

 they have to teach us. The bittern that goes 

 fishing, at Christmas, in the open water of the 

 home meadow is more interesting to me than 

 those of its kind that seek their comfort in far 

 southern swamps. I love a bird at all times, 

 but none more dearly than the myrtle warbler, 

 that chirps in its own cheerful way as it threads 

 the tangled tree-tops when winter winds are 

 blowing ; and when the Carolina wren comes to 

 my window and shouts its joy, though a storm 

 be raging, I cease to work and listen. 



But the world is not merely a big bird-cage. 

 What is the meaning of the meadow-mouse 

 that leaps away, bounding like a kangaroo, yet 

 with no exaggerated hind legs like that animal ? 

 Why does it not run merely and keep hidden 

 in the weeds ? Here is a chance to get a closer 

 view of the workings of Nature than the scalpel 



