Birds of My Garden 



133 



ing no nice little tufts of "blind branches," to hold nests, until the poor trees 

 look like some elderly persons who smile in a ghastly way to exhibit elaborately 

 filled or monstrously new teeth. Why must we be worried by so many "up- 

 to-date" ideas and contraptions? 



It is said that the Oriole and Rosebreast will not rifle the blossoms of an 

 apple tree that has been sprayed for the coddling moth at the crucial moment. 

 Oriole and Rosebreast, come to my garden and revel to your hearts' content. 

 Imperfect apples are very good for pies, and I would not exchange the utter- 

 most perfection for the loss of the thrill that comes to me at your bugle call, 

 Spring Fire, or the delight to both ear and heart at the sun-warmed melody of 

 the black- cloaked Knight of the Rosy Shield. 





■i^'-f''^<t^'^ 









. ■ ■ ■ -* ■ *< V 



A BIRD'S BATH BENEATH THE ROSES 



After all, many garden problems may be solved if one is not too greedy. 

 It is not difficult to net the strawberry bed of a home garden, only — please 

 leave one row free, for there is nothing that imparts such a liquid tone to the 

 throat of the Thrasher, who Hves in the heap of last year's pea-brush, when 

 he mounts to the top of the tall ash tree for matins, as a perfectly ripe straw- 

 berry, to be followed by a raspberry, currant, cherry and Agawam blackberry! 

 You give pennies to the organ-grinder's monkey without a thought of com- 

 plaint, and then howl at sharing your fruit with one of the chief makers of 

 the earth's fruitfulness. Who is responsible for a thicket of young, white- 

 flowering dogwoods that have sprung up in the garden at exactly the right 

 spot, to fill in some trees that are thinning? The Hermit Thrushes, in their 



