58 



Bird Day Book 



THE SERVICES OF THE BIRD IN THE GARDEN 



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THE garden is the insect's paradise. It fares sumptuously every- 

 day on the most succulent of vegetable foods. Every oppor- 

 tunity is thus offered for its increase. The greatest insect enemy of 

 the gardener is a small, dull-colored, hairless caterpillar known as 

 the cut-worm, which is the larvae of a Noctuid moth. This chief of 

 the brigand band of garden pests usually hides during the day 

 beneath matted grass or under the loose soil along the rows of 

 plants. It comes forth at dusk to feed. The bird is abroad at the 

 first peep of day, and it finds the robber worm in the morning before 

 it has retreated to its place of concealment. 



But the early bird has to come stealthily to the garden to catch 

 the worm. Its visits are regarded by man with more than suspi- 

 cion, and it is fortunate if it escapes with its life. In consequence it 

 snaps up a caterpillar and is off again, leaving thousands it would 

 have eaten, if unmolested, to run riot amongst the vegetables. 



Occasionally a bird more bold than its fellows will visit the 

 garden in broad daylight to dig the cutworms out of their hiding 

 places. Nature never having begrudged it the reward of its toil, 

 the bird takes a few peas before leaving. 



The gardener notices the damage done to his peas, and next 

 morning is up betimes. He sees the bird running along a row of 

 peas, stopping frequently to peck at something on the ground. There 

 is a loud explosion, followed by a puff of smoke. The smoke slowly 

 drifts away, to disclose a bird lying dead. 



Caterpillars are not gifted with voice ; if they were, they would 

 scarce forbear to cheer. 



The bird is dead. Mark the sequel. One fine morning the 

 gardener issues proudly forth to cut his mammoth cabbage — the 

 one with which he intends to put to utter confusion all other com- 

 petitors at the local fruit and flower show. Alas for human hopes 

 and the depredations of caterpillars. The cabbage is riddled like a 

 colander. 



The gardener when he shot the bird forgot, if, indeed, he ever 

 knew, that the ancient law forbade a muzzle to the ox that thrashed 

 out the corn. — James Buckland. 



