AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. yr 



times associated with things! And it is none the less true of this log- 

 pile. What a happy evening I had spent with a friend there, but a few 

 weeks before (May 26th), trying to bring two young Screech Owl to a 

 sociable disposition. But the Owls were indisposed, for turning their 

 heads on one side, and snapping their beaks with a saucy, harsh, "ka- 

 kaa" they would remind one of some cranky person, who thought he 

 was supreme, but, who was afraid to venture an opinion on any sub- 

 ject. 



But another friend is there to-day. No sooner are we seated on the 

 pile than a Gray Chipmunk comes and perches on the end of a log. We 

 throw an acorn to him. He grasps it in his paws, then drops it and 

 cocks his head on one side with an air of "thank you, sir, but it was no 

 good," then scampers away to hide in the leaves. 



YOUNG NIGHT HERON. Photo from life. 



Twilight settles upon us. All is still, save the dismal croak of the 

 frogs, the occasional cackle of the Gallinules, and the weird, sympathe- 

 tic whinny of the Screech Owl in the woods. Motionless we think. We 

 wonder at the past with its causes and events, the present with its ac- 

 tualities, the future with its probabilities. A hoarse "qua" overhead 

 suddenly awakens us from our dreams, and we realize that a Black- 

 crowned Night Heron passing by has brought us, as it were, back to 

 life. 



We recall the fact that we have had no supper, and,. taking a farewell 

 glance at our recent pleasure ground, we depart for home, truly able to 

 say to Mother Nature: 



An hour with thee! When sun is set, 



O, what can teach me to forget. 

 Oh, what can frame my mind to bear 



The toil and turmoil, cark and care. 

 New friends, which coming hours unfold. 

 And sad remembrance of the old? 

 One hour with thee! 



