DAME NATURE AND HER CHILDREN 



of our laid-up stores; and then think how un- 

 equipped are the wild creatures in comparison. 



Look at the snow buntings in winter, so trium- 

 phant over storm and cold, or the tiny chickadees in 

 the frozen winter woods. They know where to look 

 for their food, what to do by day, and where to go by 

 night. They know their enemies; they know where 

 and how to build their nests, and how to rear their 

 young; they know all they have to know in order 

 to live their lives. 



When I see a chickadee or a kinglet come to the 

 bit of suet that I put out on the trunk of the old 

 maple in front of my window in December, I say, 

 "See that infant! How can he face all alone the 

 season of scarcity and cold? " But he does not need 

 coaching from me; he avails himself of my suet, but 

 he would get on without it. He is wise in his own 

 economies. I doubt that our winter birds ever 

 freeze or starve, unless in extraordinary circum- 

 stances. 



When I see a band of robins in late October dis- 

 porting in my vineyards, filled with holiday cheer 

 and hilarity, calling, singing, squealing, pursuing 

 one another like children in some sort of game, 

 apparently not at all disturbed by the approach 

 of the inclement season and the failure of their food- 

 supplies, I almost envy them their felicity. They 

 are wise without reason, happy without forethought, 

 secure without rulers or safeguards of any sort. 

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