NATURAL HISTORY. 
lined in black, carmine, and intermediate 
tints on floor and window sills. Their guilt 
was so evident that a blanket death sentence 
was pronounced. 
Now comes the peculiar part of the yarn, 
No one had the heart to kill Mike, but 
somebody turned him loose and told him to 
find a safer place for permanent residence. 
He took the hint, and made his headquar- 
ters with the First Idahos, about 3 blocks 
away. Mike would always recognize his 
old friends, but a carload of peanuts would 
not induce him to return to Cuartel de 
Malate. 

OUR TENANTS. 
The first year they were a pair of song 
sparrows which built a nest in a tussock of 
grass by the brook. There was not a tree 
nor shrub on the place, and but little 
grass; but in the fall, after our land was 
graded, we put a hedge of good sized hem- 
locks in front of the house, and planted 
maples, elms and other rapid growing 
trees. Behind the house we made a small 
orchard, and set out berry bushes. We 
kept neither cat nor dog, and before the 
end of this first summer, robins and other 
birds were in the habit of flying across to 
our lot to pick up the crumbs and seeds 
we scattered about the door. After the 
young sparrows became large enough to 
fly they frequently joined their neighbors 
in these morning visits to the house. 
The second year there were several spar- 
rows nests along the brook, presumably 
the pair of the previous year and their chil- 
dren, now gone to housekeeping for them- 
selves. In the hemlocks were 2 robins’ 
nests, a catbird’s nest, and a cedar bird’s. 
Besides these, a purple martin had shown 
her confidence in us by building a nest 
on one of the rafters of our porch. 
At first the birds showed considerable 
shyness. When we were out of sight they 
would fly boldly about the door and on the 
porch, but as soon as we appeared would 
beat a precipitate retreat. Gradually this 
suspicion wore off, and by the time our 
strawberries were ripe the birds would eat 
from one end of the bed while we picked 
at the other. 
This year more birds flew across to us 
from neighboring yards and from the 
woods, seeming to have communicated to 
each other the fact that seeds were to be 
found about our door, and that there were 
no dogs nor cats to molest them. Occasion- 
ally an oriole or a wood thrush would ap- 
pear among them, and once a scarlet tanager 
flew from the woods, and, after a sharp 
scrutiny of the house, made a hasty meal 
from the seeds. When food became scarce, 
the birds grew bolder, and would even hop 
inquiringly into our kitchen. During the 
winter several sparrows and a pair of blue 
145 
jays took our hospitality for granted, and 
came regularly each morning for breakfast. 
Among our visitors was always a good 
sprinkling of snow buntings and stragglers 
that had failed to go South. 
As our maples, and elms, and apple trees 
grew, other birds came and took pos- 
session of them, and before long we found 
ourselves in the midst of a select commu- 
nity of rare songsters. It is now our fourth 
year in the country, and we have only to 
open our windows in the morning to be 
treated to sweeter music than any trained 
orchestra could furnish. 
F. H. Sweet, Palm Beach, Fla. 
PROBABLY MR. PARK’S BEAVER. 
I was interested to see in the December 
issue of RECREATION an account of a beaver 
which Mr. Park had seen traces of on a 
recent trip to Indian river. In September, 
in company with a friend, I explored much 
of the same territory, and during our stay 
at Kennell’s old camp, on the Little Moose, 
our guide, Frank Baker, told me of a bea- 
ver dam which he had seen on a tribu- 
tary not more than 2 miles from our camp. 
Baker is a careful observer of animal life, 
and he told us in such a way that I have 
every reason to believe it is the same beaver 
Mr. Park speaks of, and the one that 
gnawed through the wire grating and es- 
caped from Governor Woodruff’s place 
about 2 years ago. Baker had noted cut- 
tings at several points along the Sumner 
stream, and on the still water above the 
old dam of Little Moose, near where the 
trail leads over to Beaver lake. He had 
also seen cuttings on Indian river and on 
Beaver lake itself. He found one tree 10 
inches in thickness which was all but 
gnawed through. Whether it was the 
beaver’s desire to find a remote region 
where he could live out his days unmolested 
by man, or whether he was seeking vainly 
a companion, I do not know; but at any 
rate I visited the dam the next morning and 
am convinced he had found the former. 
We spent most of the morning in care- 
fully going over his work. He certainly was 
a busy little fellow, and it was evident from 
numerous trees and chips we examined that 
he had done all this work unaided. I feel 
sure there was but one beaver, because we 
observed no other tooth marks. The leaves 
of a large poplar tree, which he had felled 
near one of the skidding trails, were still 
fresh, and I judge the cutting had been done 
the night before. Not having a boat we 
were unable to discover his house. The 
dam raised the water 2 feet, and was strong 
enough to enable us to walk across. 
This lone worker is what is commonly 
termed by trappers and woodsmen a bache- 
lor beaver, although in this case he had not 
been ostracized by his kinsmen, as those 

