MR. BLUE JAY-A NUTCRACKER 



My grape arbor had been remodeled, better vantage ground. My friend was 



but the workmen were not careful to re- a beautiful Blue Jay. The bird stood 



move old nails. At a corner of the cen- firmly, and holding the nut in his bill 



tral arching one large-headed nail pro- would throw back his head, carefully 



jected probably two inches from the striking the nut on the nail-head, 

 board-work. This pounding was repeated until the 



From the kitchen my attention was shell was opened. The dear bird seem- 



arrested by a gentle but firm hammer- ingly ate the meat with an "I've-earned- 



ing. Of course I thought first o,f the it" relish. 



woodpecker, and wishing to secure some Following his movements I discov- 



of the chips he throws away for my ered his store of nuts on a kitchen roof 



coming school nature study, I hur- about two blocks distant. Each day 



ried out to hunt the carpenter. Mr. Blue Jay, in his true-blue suit, 



Seating myself in the shady arbor I would return to the arbor and prepare 



was soon Hstening to the return of the his meal. 



tapping noise. Finally looking up for I said nothing to the owner of the 



my visitor, I received direct on my hazel-nuts, for I did not consider the 



cheek a hazel-nut hull or shell. Sur- bird a thief — do you? 

 prised interest caused ^me to move to Harmonia Tate. 



OCTOBER. 



Gray and crimson, green and yellow 



And golden brown. 

 Leaves of every form and color, 



Tumbling down. 



Skies are deepening into azure. 



Charming blue — 

 Purest air makes life a pleasure, 



Tis living true. 



Birds their evening songs are trilling, 



Chirping low ; 

 Seeds from out their pods are spilling, 



Flowers will grow. 



Scurrying low, 

 Clouds are flying in the distance, 

 Light and shadow show resistance, 



'Tis sunset glow. 



While we stand and gaze and listen 



To Nature's voice. 

 For very joy our tears will glisten 



And we rejoice. 



Because the earth so shines with beauty 



On every hand, 

 We hasten home to love and duty, 



A happy band. 



— Clara Kendrick Blaisdell. 



140 



