346 AROUND AN OLD HOMESTEAD. 



chimney swallows that had become transfixed on a 

 lightning rod near a chimney. It had doubtless darted 

 down toward the chimney, and for some reason — either 

 because the wind blew suddenly or because It did not 

 see the rod — had gone straight on to the steel point. 

 It had pierced its breast through, and there, alone. It 

 had died, with no one to help it. When I first noticed 

 It, It had become nothing but skin and bones and a 

 dangling mass of weather-beaten feathers — dead long 

 ago. 



I recollect also that some of the boys set fire to 

 an old dead stub one day, and, in so doing, unwittingly 

 burnt up a young family of bluebirds which had their 

 home within. The cries and actions of the old ones, 

 when they saw their house in ^flames, were pitiful In 

 the extreme. This, of course, was accidental, and, when 

 discovered, was too late to rectify. But what shall we 

 say of those other cases, so many of which are inten- 

 tional. In which pain and tragedy are purposely and 

 ruthlessly inflicted upon our feathered and furry 

 brothers by devilishly inspired mankind? What do 

 you suppose the dog thinks of the vivlsectionist, any- 

 way? 



Birds seem to know man, and sometimes to rely on 

 him. I have had two bluejays scream loudly and fly 

 within a foot of my face, and show terror and almost 

 ask for protection, when a big cat happened to be in a 

 tree near their nest. He knew where it was, and that 

 there were young ones In it, and he was making for 

 the nest. I went to the tree and scared him down, and 

 as he scuttled away the jays darted at him and followed 

 him awhile, and then came back to their little home 



