THE BIRD IN BLUE 



A I write my tympanic membranes are being 

 somewhat rudely shaken by the clamorous 

 voices of a brood of young blue jays, which 

 are in a nest somewhere in one of the 

 chimneys of my bungalow. 



From the point of view of the blue jays the site they 

 have chosen for their nursery is an admirable one ; 

 indeed, had the architect of the bungalow received a 

 handsome "tip" he could not have provided the birds 

 with more comfortable accommodation. 



The shaft of the chimney is not straight, as, in my 

 humble opinion, it should be. At a few feet from the 

 top it is bent at a right angle, and runs horizontally for a 

 short distance before it again assumes what I consider 

 to be its normal course. 



The architect was, however, not such a fool as he 

 may appear, for it is quite impossible to clean properly 

 the chimney of his design ; it must therefore take fire 

 sooner or later, and the fire may spread and result in 

 the destruction of the house. The re-erection thereof 

 would of course mean more work for the said 

 architect. 



The blue jays are as satisfied as the designer with the 

 chimney, because the horizontal portion forms a shelf 



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