290 Bird -Lore 



last one of the Owlets flew up into a high tree, to our great satisfaction it let 

 us approach below. We stood motionless straining our eyes to see it, and before 

 long were rewarded by the appearance of Big Wings. She had come to feed it. 

 We peered through the gloom more eagerly than before. What next? There 

 were four other hungry Owlets to be fed, and perhaps we should at last see both 

 parents! This was really the only time of day to find out anything about 

 Owls. But — let who will interrogate the sphinx — Big Wings and Owlet arose 

 and spread their wings and, taking the direction of the heavier timber of the 

 old-nest ground, flew out of sight in the darkness! 



With Apologies to Mr. Kipling 



When the Warbler in the tree-top warbles to his silent mate 



Till the opera-glasses catch him and the field-key gets him straight, 



It's a cinch to classify him by the speckles on his tail, 



But the female of the species is more puzzlin' than the male. 



When the Bob-o-link goes bobblin, o'er the meadows, lush and green, 

 E'en the dullest can't mistake him, if he's heard, or if he's seen; 

 But his sober-sided mistress bothers students on her trail, 

 For the female of the species is more puzzlin' than the male. 



When the Tanager flits flaming through the woodland's tangled tops, 

 Every dolt-head marks his passing, and can name him ere he stops; 

 But his mate glides by unheeded, goes unknown o'er hill and dale, 

 For the female of the species is more puzzlin' than the male. 



As with Oriole and Redstart, Bob-o-link and useful hen, 



So it is with bigger bipeds — even so it is with men. 



Though her plumage is more brilliant, yet the truth will still prevail 



That the female of the species is more puzzlin' than the male. 



Contributed. 



