and cypress along the borders of an im- 

 mense swamp. 



As the Louisiana water thrush is the 

 star soloist of the warbler contingent, so 

 the yellow breasted chat is the clown of 

 our woodland troupe. His coloring is 

 vivid but simple, being green with a wash 

 of olive above, lores black, breast bright 

 chrome yellow, other under parts white 

 or whitish. Under most circumstances 

 this bird is shy and difficult to approach, 

 as I learned by personal experience; but 

 when one of hi^ strange moods comes 

 upon him — perhaps it is the approach of 

 the nuptial season that so affects him, — 

 he doffs much of his shyness and becomes 

 a veritable clown, making such a profu- 

 sion and variety of noises that one would 

 fain beheve that there is a whole score 

 of birds in the bush or thicket from which 

 the medley proceeds. He darts out of 

 his retreat and flies away over the shrub- 

 bery, twisting and turning his body, rais- 

 ing and dropping his tail as if all his 



joints were of the ball and socket pattern, 

 making as many ridiculous contortions 

 and as many varieties of squeaks and 

 squalls as an old-time elocutionist. 



Besides numerous individuals of the 

 species of warblers already named, in the 

 two weeks between April 9 and 23 I saw 

 one or more of each of the following: 

 Yellow or summer, bluewinged, worm- 

 eating, magnolia, golden winged, chest- 

 nut sided, prairie, and the redstart. As I 

 write these nam.es they call up mornings 

 spent in the land of the 'possum and per- 

 simmon while yet the steamy breath of 

 the dew was going up to meet the fervor 

 of an April sun, and all the air was 

 heavy with the perfume of the blooming 

 holly, mornings of music from a thou- 

 sand throats inspired by "the new wine 

 of the year." At such times one realizes 

 the force of these two lines from Rich- 

 ard Hovey : 



Make me over, Mother April, 



When the sap begins to stir. 



James Stephen Compton. 



A PET SQUIRREL. 



"Grandma, what made those little 

 scars on this finger?" asked Nellie. 



"Those," said grandma, reflectively, 

 "were made by a saucy little gray squir- 

 rel." 



"How?" 



"When I was a little girlie, smaller than 

 you, uncle gave me a gray squirrel in 

 a cage for a pet. As we all fondled him 

 he soon became very tame. We often 

 opened his cage door and allowed him to 

 run around the house at will. One day 

 he ran upstairs and played havoc in 

 a feather bed. After that when out of 

 his cage wc kept a close watch on him, 

 never allowing him in a bedroom. 



"But he liad already learned a new 

 trick which he seemed very loth to for- 



get. Every time that he could sneak into 

 a bedroom he would make a bee-line 

 for the bed, tear a hole in the tick and 

 be inside among the feathers in a flash. 



"As I said before, everyone around the 

 place petted and handled him and he had 

 never bitten nor scratched anyone. But 

 one day while playing with him he sud- 

 denly leaped from my arms and raced 

 upstairs. Just as he jumped upon a bed 

 I caught him. This angered his squirrel- 

 ship. He turned and savagely ran his 

 long, sharp teeth through my finger. The 

 sores were slow about healing and left 

 these little scars. After that mother 

 would not allow me to let him out of his 

 cage." LovEDAY Almira Nelson. 



140 



