OUR COUNTRY LIFE 



Now, indeed, is the country divine! In a cloudless 

 sky without a breath of wind the sun rises, a globe of 

 fire. Is this our sober, tangible, prosaic earth, this rich 

 tangle of white-draped branches, this iridescent ex- 

 panse of unsullied purity? Not a brown leaf stirs, not 

 a sign of life anywhere. But wait! Is it a flutter of 

 wings under that bush by the terrace? Is it "dee, 

 dee" I hear close to my window? 



I must hasten to spread my table, for I have left 

 the withered geraniums in my window box to serve as 

 a natural shelter against the rain or snow, and on the 

 earth beneath I sprinkle the food for the birds — - 

 cracked corn and oats, crumbs and suet, birdseed and 

 chopped nuts, to please all tastes. Nor do they need 

 a second invitation. The chickadees look at me stead- 

 ily and help themselves with dainty gusto, the nut- 

 hatches are a bit more selfish, perhaps, but not terrify- 

 ing to the juncos, who calmly stand their ground. 

 When the nuthatch is storing his bit in the tree trunk, 

 back comes Mr. Chickadee with his bewitching little 



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