The Bird Bath in Molting Time 



By CRAIG S. THOMS, Vermillion, S. D. 

 With Photographs by the Author 



A MOURNING DOVE DRINKS WHILE 

 A ROBIN WAITS 



WHEN we left home in 

 early August for a 

 month's vacation, the 

 yard was alive with birds; when 

 we returned, the first week in Sep- 

 tember, not a bird was to be seen. 



''Where are the birds?" a 

 friend inquired. 



They were gone, but we be- 

 lieved that we could charm them 

 back again. 



The bird-bath, which had held 

 no water during our absence, was 

 filled and kept full, and the hose 

 was freely used to revive the 

 grass and give the bushes a drink. 

 We knew that water in a bird- 

 bath had a reflecting surface like 

 a mirror and could be seen by 

 birds in the trees for a consider- 

 able distance. Moreover, we be- 

 lieved that birds could actually 

 smell water; and so, after filling 

 the bath and watering the lawn, 

 we confidently waited. 



In a few days a flock of a 

 dozen Robins came to the lawn 

 and for a whole month literally 

 made the bath their own. Two 

 or three Flickers came, and a 

 couple of Brown Thrashers; sev- 

 eral Mourning Doves camped in 

 the garden; Blue Jays were fre- 

 quent visitors; and at least one 

 Catbird and one Cuckoo made 

 their appearance, while Bronzed 

 Crackles were occasionally ob- 

 trusive by their numbers. Thus 

 it was abundantly demonstrated 

 that the birds had left the vicinity 

 for lack of water. 



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