MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



homes are so plentiful here that it requires the 

 greatest watchfulness not to harm them during a 

 trimming tour. 



Take a peep through the stubbly, thickly mat- 

 ted shoots and branches at these four mites in the 

 little hair-lined nest. Unlike the great majority 

 of young birds they are not all heads, and the tiny 

 beaks that open so confidingly at our approach 

 are quite in proportion to the dainty frames. But 

 see, peeping out through the green arch through 

 which we have just passed is an anxious little 

 chippy mother begging us to go our way that she 

 may give her babies their breakfast. We will 

 not investigate any more hedge-homes at present. 

 This is a busy and important hour in the nurser- 

 ies of featherdom, and it would be cruel to keep 

 the little ones waiting for their food. 



Those fluffy dandelion balls seem to have great 

 attractions for the English and chipping spar- 

 rows. See how cleverly the little creatures nip 

 the seeds and cast aside the miniature sails that 

 would have floated away with the tiny germs to 

 some other corner of nature's garden. 



But there is a little bird who seems to have 

 other than food purposes for the dandelion top. 

 With one swoop he gathers a beakful of the fluffy 



