MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



their meals in the bungalow on all propitious oc- 

 casions. Then such benefits as birds reap from 

 the crumb-scattering propensities of human beings 

 the economical woodland life has no such 

 wasteful counterpart, though, as you may fancy, 

 more scraps fall from our table by design than 

 by accident. 



I think it would be impossible for the most in- 

 veterate of English-sparrow haters to withstand 

 the friendly charms of a certain little cock-spar- 

 row friend of ours Monsieur Sans Gene, he 

 is called who not only hops around our table 

 and perches fearlessly on our chair-rungs, but 

 who also accompanies us on short walks, and fre- 

 quently comes to meet us on our return from 

 longer expeditions. When I reappear, after an 

 absence either long or short, he flutters gleefully 

 around my shoulders and is evidently strongly 

 tempted to alight. At times he hovers over the 

 Mexican, and I think he will some day take a 

 ride on her back. It is evident that he and many 

 others among the bird-friends connect both the 

 little dog and myself with food-supplies, as they 

 fly in a body to meet her, even when she appears 

 alone, and they settle down all around her in 

 the unmistakable expectation of receiving bounty 

 [210] 



