MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



of his way to investigate the new-comers. He 

 had never met with unkind treatment, and, in this 

 instance as usual, looked only for a welcome, so 

 he flew directly to the men, when one of them 

 raised his gun and shot the friendly fellow. 



We picked him up cold and stiff and buried 

 him among the beloved scenes, and ever since the 

 day of his death we have wondered how anyone 

 could so treacherously reward even the trust of a 

 crow. 



The hours have sped unheeded as we mused 

 and talked, and now all the time-pieces of Arden 

 tell of declining day. Shadows are lengthening, 

 flocks of grackles and other rovers are making 

 their homeward way, other little feathered 

 friends are mounting to their sleeping apartments, 

 and voices that have been silent through the day 

 are now heard in eager chatter. Listen to the 

 commotion in the tree-tops. What is it all 

 about? Quarrels over the selection of the most 

 advantageous places? Reproofs and discipline 

 for deeds of trespass? "Tut, tut, tut," says the 

 liquid-voiced wood-thrush, as if in gentle expostu- 

 lation. 



The glow in the western sky is paling rap- 



[24] 



