103-1 



ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY BULLETIN 



RHODODENDRONS 

 The rhododendrons bloomed most lux 



his tie; and the peacock will throw a thread- 

 hare tail into view, that is nothing short of 

 a caricature of its former beauty, to the hum- 

 blest observer that loiters near. 



The peacock has his day in proper season, 

 for then he is the observed of all observers, 

 but alas "how are the mighty fallen" when 

 this gay Lothario imagines that he can dazzle 

 a wandering flock of guinea-fowl, after the 

 inexorable law of nature has shorn him of 

 his glory. 



A number of guinea-fowl, as indifferent to 

 all worldly affairs and as busy as only guinea- 

 fowl can be, were darting about the rectangle 

 of lawn fronting the Elephant House a few 

 mornings ago, intent only upon filling their 

 crops. To the guinea-fowl there can be as- 

 cribed no other aim, for to them the axiom 

 "all is not gold that glitters" is even ephem- 

 eral. 



In among them strode a peacock, a swagger- 

 ing "Jingle" of tattered elegance and jaunty 

 impudence. 



Bigoted ancestral pride urged him to 

 attempt a conquest. Against his rustling 

 coverts the peacock raised the remnants of 

 his tattered tail, two lone plumes, one perfect 

 feather jutting out at an abrupt angle while 



IN BIRD VALLF.Y 



uriantly during the season of 1913. 



the other, battered and broken, drooped 

 forlornly over his back. The guinea-fowl 

 disappeared like a flock of quail. 



Feathered Weather Prophets. — 'Warden Rush 

 of the Wichita National Forest is a keen and 

 original naturalist. A life spent in the wilder- 

 ness has given him a wonderful knowledge 

 of the furred and feathered creatures, which 

 he applies in various useful ways. 



It is quite a wall known fact that many 

 birds and animals, by some divine instinct, 

 protect themselves from storms and betray 

 changes of weather some time in advance. 



When Mr. Rush announced that a storm 

 was brewing, and in twenty-four hours we 

 would be in the midst of darkened skies and 

 piercing winds, I wondered what the pre- 

 diction was based on. 



When I sought the source of his prophetic 

 information, he declared that the owls told 

 him. This I accepted with a grain of salt, 

 until one evening as we were riding together, 

 he remarked, " Well, we're going to have a 

 storm." My manner was skeptical, for the 

 existing conditions indicated anything but 

 storms. "You don't believe it do you? Just 

 stop your horse and keep your ears wide 

 open," he said. "Do you hear that owl?" 



