OLD FRIENDS IN NEW PLACES 



beak. After eyeing it a moment it opened its beak 

 and I dropped the worm into its mouth. Others 

 soon followed, and still others. The bird began to 

 wake up and come to itself. In a little while it was 

 taking the food eagerly and without any signs of 

 fear. I could stroke it with one hand while I fed it 

 with the other. It would sit on my knee or arm and 

 take the food that was offered it. I was kept pretty 

 busy supplying its wants till in the afternoon it be- 

 gan to fly and to run about the room and utter its 

 call-note. Before night it had become so active and 

 so clamorous for its freedom that we opened the 

 window. With a dash and a cry it was out of the 

 house and on the wing to a near-by tree. I trust, 

 with the boost I had given it, it was soon safely on 

 its northward journey. 



The incident shows how extreme hunger in a wild 

 creature banishes fear. One March day, when I was 

 a boy, I found a raccoon wandering about the 

 meadow so famished that he allowed me to pick him 

 up by the tail and carry him to the house. He ate 

 ravenously the food I offered him. 



The struggle for life among the birds and other 

 wild creatures is so severe that the feeble and mal- 

 formed, or the handicapped in any way, quickly drop 

 out. Probably none of them ever die from old age. 

 They are cut off in their prime. A weeding-out 

 process goes on from the time they leave the nest. 

 A full measure of life, the perfection of every quill 

 95 



