BIRD PARADISE 137 



sunny, dry afternoons they enjoy in the true in- 

 sect manner. The little gossamer spider is among 

 the most interesting of the great host. I was over 

 at the old farm the other day and strolled down 

 to the hillside near Bird Paradise. At first I 

 thought the little fellows were not on duty. A 

 little later, however, the company assembled and 

 surely I never saw it larger. Out from the fence 

 and bushes the silver threads streamed with a 

 minute spider at the end of each one. There were 

 thousands in sight from where I stood, and every 

 fence and bush in our hill country was presenting 

 the same scene. The threads and the insects can 

 only be seen when the sun's rays are reflected by 

 them. Curious how the thread is spun from the 

 little body — the creature letting it buoy him up 

 as the spinning goes on. Curious, too, how it can 

 all be wound up again and used over and over. 

 Down at the swamp side I lingered, hoping to see 

 another friend of my boyhood days, and sure 

 enough there the fellow was, seemingly the same 

 I saw sixty years ago. The little pool of water 

 enticed the boy again, and there on the surface 

 of the water was the happy boatman, just as I 

 saw him in my boyhood, — the water- spider, walk- 

 ing over the water as easily as some of his kin 

 walk over the smooth surface of the wall. I take 



