WHAT I HAVE DONE WITH BIRDS 



nest of a Killdeer published, not even in a recent work devoted 

 exclusively to bird architecture, or a reproduction of the young. 

 I promptly hugged Mrs. Stukey, because I love these great- 

 souled country people who save me nests, lay down their fences, 

 offer food and a cooling drink, and try in every way to help me 

 in work they do not always understand, merely because they like 

 to be kind and helpful. Then I hurried to the east corn-field. 



The gate from the road into the field was nailed shut, so I 

 hitched my horse, whose original name was Ben, but, regardless 

 of sex, since has been changed to Patience, for obvious reasons ; 

 climbed the gate and started for what looked like a stake far 

 across the field. Part of my course lay between the weather- 

 beaten dry weeds and the stubble of last year's crop, and the rest 

 over freshly-plowed ground. 



The open sunny field was almost a solid green in perspective, 

 with the tender upspringing wild lettuce, silvery catnip, golden 

 green dandelion and pale whitish burdock. The light green felt 

 of the mullein and the rank dark green of the thistle spread 

 everywhere in great plants which had slept securely beneath the 

 snows and renewed their vigorous growth before the last drifts of 

 March had passed. It occurred to me to wonder if we had learned 

 everything about thistles and mullein it was intended we should. 

 These plants must have been made so vigorous and so hardy for 

 some special reason and I scarcely think we have found it. 



On nearing the plowed ground a great clamor broke on my 

 ears and I stopped, enthralled by one of the most beautiful sights 

 conceivable. Down the field came John, the lines hanging over a 

 plow-handle, guiding his powerful gray Percherons by his voice, 

 a black line of swamp loam rolling up as he passed, and myriads 

 of big birds swarming over him or fighting for place on the 

 freshly-turned earth at his heels. 



66 



