A Home in the Forest 2.:;^ 



sound on the bark, I saw a nestling stop, and as if bound by law and precedent 

 to always creep up, never down, it turned its white throat back over its shoulder, 

 to take food from a parent coming up from below. A small brother whose 

 instincts were not so well developed turned down. Nuthatch-like, to get its 

 insect. A third fully feathered little fellow marched up the trunk with perky 

 self-confidence, caught and ate an insect all by itself, and then branched off 

 onto the thumb of a broken limb in shockingly adventurous style, ignoring 

 all Certhian traditions regarding the conservation of energy. 



As the family crept around over the tree trunks, the young kept up their 

 low pipe, so that they might easily be found by their parents. While they 

 called shrilly from the tree trunks, the small notes of a band of Chickadees 

 came from high in the tree tops. 



This was my last sight of the little family I had watched with so much 

 interest. It was indeed, greatly to my regret, my last visit to their home, to 

 the quiet pillared woods with its sun-touched carpet. As I looked up and up 

 the straight tall pillars, and thought of the noise and heat and clatter, of the 

 sordid crookedness of the world of man outside the forest, how grateful was 

 the penetrating coolness of the dim, sun-crossed aisles! The wind in the trees 

 seemed the chant of the gray brotherhood standing in quietness of spirit, 

 straight and true, with heads uplifted. Outside the woods, once more I turned 

 to look back. In front of the gray brotherhood stood the gray log cabin, its 

 mossy roof gently touched by the sun, while from the surrounding trees came 

 the sweet piping voices of the fledgelings and their devoted little parents. 



A Merganser Family 



By MAY D. LEWIS, Watertown, N. Y. 



IN THE summer of 1906, we were invited to spend July at Star Lake, in 

 the Adirondacks. The special inducement was an old Duck and her 

 little ones. On reaching the lake, we found the most common topic of 

 conversation to be the doings of the old Shelldrake and her family. The first 

 thing I heard on my arrival was some one saying, "She spent last night under 

 my dock," and the reply, "This noon they were eating at mine." The next 

 morning, July 3, 1 was looking out over the lake when Mrs. Duck came, swim- 

 ming slowly around the island, followed by nine baby Ducks — the cutest 

 bunches of down I had ever seen. She acted very much as if trying to show off 

 her children, though when we went to the water's edge, she made off to the 

 middle of the lake like a hydroplane. We took our boat and followed, think- 

 ing to get a picture, but never got near enough. Nearly every day the experi- 

 ment was repeated, with the same result; the Ducks would dive, come up and 

 scoot oflf like an express train. The variation was the arrangement in swimming, 

 sometimes a straight line with madam at one side, sometimes in the middle, or 



