My Boyhood and Touth 



tered in it. I well remember the first speci- 

 men I ever saw. Father shot it in the creek dur- 

 ing a snowstorm, brought it into the house, and 

 called us around him, saying: "Come, bairns, 

 and admire the work of God displayed in this 

 bonnie bird. Naebody but God could paint 

 feathers like these. Juist look at the colors, 

 hoo they shine, and hoo fine they overlap and 

 blend thegether like the colors o' the rain- 

 bow." And we all agreed that never, never be- 

 fore had we seen so awfu' bonnie a. bird. A 

 pair nested every year in the hollow top of an 

 oak stump about fifteen feet high that stood on 

 the side of the meadow, and we used to won- 

 der how they got the fluffy young ones down 

 from the nest and across the meadow to the 

 lake when they were only helpless, featherless 

 midgets ; whether the mother carried them to 

 the water on her back or in her mouth. I never 

 saw the thing done or found anybody who had 

 until this summer, when Mr. Holabird, a keen 

 observer, told me that he once saw the mother 

 carry them from the nest tree in her mouth, 

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