3$ THE AUDUBON BULLETIN 



A torn piece of a bright red rubber bathing cap happened to lie on 

 the grass, wet and shiny from the water. One bird would take hold of 

 it and start to run, another some ten feet away would run and grab it, 

 other birds would follow suit, and the big war commenced. They 

 would finally tire of it, but another relay would seize it and have their 

 share of fun. 



Some were acrobatic in their frolic. A large beech tree with slender, 

 pendulous branches within a foot of the ground, stood near them. The 

 birds would give flying jumps and light on the tips, which, bending with 

 their weight, brought them to the ground. The branches had hardly 

 resumed their natural position before they were on them again. 



They seemed to enjoy themselves so much that I wished I was a 

 bird, tail, feathers and all. 



At the feeding table was a mother grackle feeding its noisy child, 

 who, like Oliver Twist, was always crying for more. The mother 

 grackle would eat four or five grains of chicken feed and then give the 

 babe one grain, returning to her four or five grains before her offspring 

 received its single portion. She was evidently teaching her young that 

 eating slowly aids digestion. 



— William C. Egan. 



A Good Samaritan 



ON a cold night in late fall, the wind was howling about the house 

 saying, "Winter is coming;" but we were all tucked snugly in 

 bed and thought not of the poor, out-of-door children who were not 

 prepared for the early cold weather. 



When I awoke the next morning, the ground was lightly covered 

 with snow. I started out for a walk to enjoy the fresh cool air, when, 

 not far from the house, I heard the peep of a bird; and, going in that 

 direction, I found a Robin half frozen, lying in the snow. I picked him 

 up and carried him to the house where he was placed in a basket in some 

 soft wool. After a few moments he was able to move about and soon 

 began to eat the crumbs which were placed near. He lived in the house 

 with us all winter; but when spring came and his relatives returned from 

 the South, my Robin was eager to join them and soon disappeared with 

 the rest of the birds. I saw nothing more of him until one day in the 

 fall; while standing on the porch I heard a flutter of wings near, and 

 turning saw my Robin, who alighted on my shoulder for several minutes 

 for a farewell visit. He soon left for the South with the other birds. 

 This happened six years ago; but every spring my Robin comes back 

 and I meet him on the porch and feed him from my hand. 



— Alice Zareck, 



1522 5th Street, Milwaukee, Wisconsin 



