The Oologist. 



VOL. X. ALBION, N. 



COLLECTING AT NIGHT. 



ATaleofth.3 Adventures of a Tough, but 

 Nervy, Young Egg-crank. 



By Didyv 

 In the course of discussion with a young friend 



of mine. 

 As to who could write poetry in a manuer so 



fine 

 That the boys of your paper would all think it's 



great— 

 I grabbed up my pencil, my sponge and my 



slate 

 And wrote off the doings I'm about to relate. 

 For I am a poet as all of you know, 

 And my power to please I surely can show. 

 So here is a poem in meter and rhyme 

 Which J feel very certain will win every time; 

 My subject's attr ictive as it deals with a crime. 



Way back in the seventies there lived a young 



kid 

 In whose little carcass all the evils were hid— 

 Which together, combining, produced the egg- 

 crank; 

 He had all the features, oil that you can bank 

 Your hist dollar and win: Groat Scott! he was 

 rank. 



Now this tough little Aleck, fifteen years old 

 or so. 



i guy all the school-marms to whom he 

 did go- 

 Till his poor widowed mother, to save the dis- 

 grace 

 Took the kid out of school and found him a 



ace 

 On a farm, as 'twas plain he must work; a clear 



■case. 

 Soke watered the chickens and curried the cow; 

 Dug on ike pigs and fol- 



• 

 i little pill. 

 Who c < il i hustle the harrow, the grindstone 



; ill : 

 In fact 1 iusiness but he thought he 



COUld fill. 



The farmer was tickled and so was his spouse 

 To secure a good youngester to milk and drive 



cows 

 . And so this young egg-crank soon gained their 



esteem: 

 "Fed on honey, preserves, ham and eggs, milk 



and cream — 

 -And the scheme he soon worked slid off like a 



dream. 



Y., DEC, 1893. K(). 12 



His mother instructed the boss of bhe farm 

 That this boy was an egg-crank, and to prevent 



harm, 

 The best way to fix him, was not to permit 

 A single day's outing'. A sensible hit. 

 So the kid made a play, and the old farmer bit. 

 The season was spring and the month it was 



May- 

 And the cute kid had permission to sleep on the 



hay. 

 So at night when he'd go to the barn for his 



rest 

 He'd fly to the woods and the fields for a nest, 

 In a manner the granger would never have 



guessed. 

 In this way the Kid who had good eyes for finds 

 When working in the day time, secured many 



kinds. 

 He had Chippies and Bluebirds and Lark's eggs 



not a few ; 

 There were eggs of the Wood Thrush of deli- 

 cate blue, 

 Green Catbirds, rare Vireos and Orioles too. 

 Nighthawk's eggs were in this collection well 



hid; 

 Whip-poor-will's and some Killdeer's under 



securely locked lid. 

 He had Shrike's eggs and Bluejay's taken time 



and again— 

 Forty-eight kinds of eggs he had taken and 



then- 

 He found a new treasurer, the nest of a Wren. 

 Now this House Wren it built in the end of a 



gable. 

 Of the house, and this kid wondered how he'd 



be able 

 To scoop the eggs safely, with the farmer so 



near 

 But he planned the whole matter in a way that 



I fear 

 A few of my readers will think rather queer. 



He took a long rope to a tree on the side 



Of the house and then to it the rope he fast 



tied. 

 With a pole quickly poked the rope over the 



peak 

 Then listened and faltered already to sneak 

 Should the farmer be wakened and the kitchen 



door creak. 



He next made a loop in the end of the rope 

 And .started to climb, very still, let us hope; 

 Till at last on the roof he paused for a rest — 

 He viewed his surroundings ere he plundered 



the nest, 

 And the sight that he saw you'd scarcely have 



guessed. 



