BIRDS OF THE WEST 



When we are afield we shall learn of the trees in which the 

 birds spread their tiny couches and swing their airy cradles. 



We shall find the sparrow's nest in a tangle of vetch, the deep 

 green eggs of the catbird in the meshes of the wild grape and the 

 leaf-colored lady chewink sitting on her nest, her bright red eye 

 snapping like a spark among the leaves as though she were about 

 to set the forest afire rather than have us intrude upon her soli- 

 tude. 



We shall see a ruby-throated hummingbird building an imita- 

 tion knot upon a tree-limb and using it as a nest and we shall ad- 

 mire the genius of somebody or of something. Shall we not? 



Shall we not wonder which is the cleverer, the cowbird that 

 lays her egg in the yellow warbler's nest to avoid the duties of 

 maternity, or the yellow warbler that build's a false bottom above 

 the cowbird 's egg to avoid running an orphanage? I found such 

 a nest in a wild gooseberry bush on the shore of Lake Herman - 

 Lake county, S. D., a few years ago and it was so deep that I more 

 than half believe that it was a "three-decker", but as there was 

 but one egg buried within it, I shall report it a "double-decker". 



The bugs, the bees, the moths, the butterflies, the flowers, every- 

 thing is to be found where the birds are. One should feel a sense 

 of shame to admit that he cannot tell an anemone from a bluebell 

 nor a grosbeak from an oriole, especially if he is old enough to 

 tell a dime from a penny or stage money from a bank note. 



Let us not be worried by the two schools of nature-lovers. 

 One sees only the leaden side and the other only the golden side 

 of the statue and their lances never draw blood. Instead of trying 

 to find human nature in the birds, let us study man a little to see 

 if he has within him something of bird nature. When we see him go- 

 i.ng up a telephone pole by means of "climbers", we see only a 

 cheap imitation of the method of the woodpeckers that carry their 

 spikes on the ends of their tail-feathers and when we find an old 

 crow hiding tiny and shiny things among the leaves within the hol- 

 low of an old tree-stump and visiting his treasury every little while 

 to look over his wealth, can we not recall many a miserly old human 

 crow that is doing the same thing? 



If we have never learned a lesson in politeness from the cedar 

 waxwing it is our own fault, for though there were a thousand of 

 them in a single tree-top, he would never jostle his branch-mate, 



