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The Garden Magazine, November, 1921 



over, the berries were exceptionally large, sprightly in flavor, of a deli- 

 cate pinkish color without the usual raspberry bloom, and were noticed 

 very late in the season. Mr. Alius was mildly interested — perhaps 

 curious would be a better term — but as it hadn't occurred to him to do 

 any experimenting or propagating, he merely, watched the bushes and 

 told a few acquaintances about them. Among these was Mr. F. A. 

 Bartlett, by profession a tree-repair expert, by inclination a sort of 

 experimental horticulturist on a small scale, to whom ultimately, Mr. 

 Alius gave the new, strange plants to test out. After a season or two 

 Mr. Bartlett urged Mr. Alius to propagate the new berry and to arrange 

 for its commercial introduction; offering all the plants or cuttings 

 necessary from his own little fifty foot row. During the last couple of 

 years thousands of plants have been set out in home gardens; mean- 

 while Mr. Bartlett continues peacefully to cultivate his garden patch in 

 the knowledge that a berry of real merit has been saved from extinction. 



There is room for conjecture as to how La France came into being. 

 It may be a true "sport" — on the other hand, here is a chain of circum- 

 stantial evidence suggesting a hybrid origin. The original plant ap- 

 peared in a bed containing a number of varieties, including most of the 

 better-known standard sorts and some of the newer ones, including rem- 

 nants of a collection originally imported from Europe by the superin- 

 tendent who preceded Mr. Alius. Probably all the foreign strains 

 succumbed. But one of them may have had time to pollinate or be 

 pollinated by some hardy native sort. Of the seedlings so produced, 

 one may have proved hardy. At any rate one strange plant grew up 

 and multiplied until it caught Mr. Alius's attention. 



In support of this hybrid theory there is the fact that officials of the 

 Department of Agriculture have no record of any variety bearing ber- 

 ries of the peculiar La France pink color, wild or cultivated in this 

 country, although something of the kind has been heard of in Flanders. 

 — E. L. D. Seymour, New York. 



The Robin and the Cherry 



To the Editor of The Garden Magazine: 



WHILE there are a good many birds which do damage to the 

 small fruits of early summer and late spring, the robin is certainly 

 the chief offender; and the Cherry-tree is the worst sufferer. It is true 

 that catbirds, thrushes, and those perniciously useless birds, the 

 starlings, take some toll of our garden fruits; but the robin does nearly 

 all the damage. This is due to two facts: the robin's insatiable ap- 

 petite for the very fruits for which we have an identical craving; and 

 the extraordinary increase in the number of birds of this variety. The 

 Biological Survey informs us that there can be no doubt that the robin 

 outnumbers every other kind of bird in North America; and I for one 

 believe this. I have watched millions of robins congregated in the 

 swamps of the South, and their hour-upon-hour passage from one 

 swamp to another. Since in practically every community of the 

 middle and northern latitudes as well, the robin is the commonest visi- 

 tor, we must conclude that the census report concerning him is accurate. 



In many localities applications have been made by market gar- 

 deners and by just plain householding gardeners to the game wardens 

 for permission to shoot depredating robins. There is no doubt that 

 many of the birds are killed by outraged fruit-growers. But after 

 all it is a pity. Without considering its aesthetic value, the bird does 

 more good than harm in the world. Although his favorite animal food 

 appears to be the humble and useful earthworm, yet he also destroys 

 myriads of harmful insects. If, too, he cheerfully and gluttonously 

 eats our strawberries and cherries, and deliberately trains his children 

 to follow the same habits, shall we shoot him? In answering this I 

 always think of what a friend of mine told me after he had killed a 

 trumpeter swan. I asked him whether he had enjoyed the sport of the 

 experience. 



"I can't say that I did," he replied. "You see, I felt just as if I 

 were shooting an angel." 



Killing a robin is hardly that; but there is something wrong about 

 killing any song-bird. And before doing so I think we should dili- 

 gently inquire whether the death of the bird is the only insurance 

 against the safety of our small-fruit crop. 



Now, I shall not mention the best-known of the preventive meas- 

 ures, nor the wire cages to cover beds of Strawberries; for these forms 

 of protection are known to all gardeners. But there are one or two 

 kinds of berry-and cherry-insurance to which I should like to call 

 attention. The first of these is the metal or glass whirler. 



As is well-known, small birds fear shadows; for shadows warn 

 them of approaching enemies from the air. Nothing startles a bird 

 more than a swift-moving shadow. Now, it matters little whether 

 the shadow be of the standard brown color, or whether it be bright 



and glinting; the effect is the same; the bird gets a nervous chill, 

 and flies incontinently away. This fundamental fear is especially 

 strong in the robin. It should be made use of by the gardener — and 

 in the following manner. Take a long pole three feet higher than the 

 Cherry-tree in question. Take a three-foot crosspiece at the top. 

 From this, at six-inch intervals, suspend thin strips of bright tin or of 

 glass blackened on one side (the broken parts of an old mirror will do). 

 Suspend the strips on strong cord, seeing to it that they will revolve 

 freely. When the whirler has been made, elevate it against the trunk 

 of the tree, and tie in place. All day long, with the slightest wind 

 moving, the bright strips will dash glinting lights and shadows on the 

 tree and on the near-by ground; and most robins will keep away. 



There is another method of protection, simpler and certainly most 

 effective, which also has something humorous about it. The arch- 

 fear of a robin's blithe existence is dread of a blacksnake. This fear is 

 positively of the panic variety. Now, if you will manufacture a 

 blacksnake or two out of an old section of hose or anything else that 

 answers, and expose these reptiles in a Cherry-tree as if they were 

 sunning themselves there in ambush for robins, the effect on visiting 

 marauders will be exceedingly chastening. It is a fact that a four- 

 foot piece of garden-hose, too worthless to do aught but to imitate a 

 blacksnake, can save the crop of a Cherry-tree! 



When, therefore, a few simple devices will enable us to save at least 

 the greater part of our small-fruit crop, we gardeners have no real 

 excuse for resorting to bloodshed. — Archibald Rutledge, Mercers- 

 burg, Pa. 



Fill Your Empty Window Boxes 



To the Editor of The Garden Magazine: 



LAST fall the Civic Department of the Woman's Club in our city 

 ' made an appeal to the residents to help beautify the place by 

 filling "those drab, empty, useless looking window boxes" for the 

 winter. Many responded, and the effect was so pleasing that the idea 

 is worthy of being extensively advocated. 



In the woods in this locality are many shrubs and berries available 

 for this winter box garden — Pine branches, small Fir trees, Bittersweet, 

 Rose hips, northern Holly, but perhaps the most striking color effect 

 is obtained by the use of fruit spikes of Sumac. — Mary Rutner, 

 Traverse City, Mich. 



When Drought Makes Flowers 



To the Editor of The Garden Magazine: 



THE horticulturists who so emphatically proclaim in standard 

 literature that the Crape Myrtle is a shrub that requires no special 

 soil situation or conditions, are erroneous in their statements. 



Twelve years ago I set an even half dozen Crape Myrtle shrubs on 

 the south side of my house all in a straight line. They were equally 

 divided — two white, two pink, two deep pink. The first year three of 

 them began to bloom and have been blooming regularly every year 

 since. The other three have made just as thrifty growth as those that 

 bloomed, but during the twelve years have never even set flower buds. 



Every year I have made an effort to solve the problem of the indol- 

 ent habit of these three should-be flowering shrubs, and the more I 

 studied them, the more complex seemed the problem. I was almost 

 ready to say that there were certain species of the Crape Myrtle which 

 were non-flowering. Half-way down the side of the house is a hose 

 connection which has had a leaky joint. This has let water drip con- 

 stantly, but not enough to more than keep the soil good and moist. 

 Instead of having the pipe repaired, I took advantage of the situation 

 and planted a bed of Peppermint; three kinds of Basket Willow; three 

 of Cyperus, or the true Sedges; Calamus, and a double flowered Althea. 

 All of these have thrived, including the Crape Myrtles, except that the 

 latter have stubbornly refused to bloom. 



Last winter the leak became greater and I had a plumber re- 

 pair the pipe, thus cutting off the additional supply of moisture with the 

 result that the lower half of the soil became as dry as the upper half of 

 the plot. This summer, to my great surprise, every Crape Myrtle 

 bush bloomed profusely! 



This has clearly proved to me that the trouble was due entirely to 

 the dampness. While the water was just sufficient to be a benefit to 

 the other plants and shrubs growing in the same soil, yet it was enough 

 to interfere with the setting of flower buds on the Crape Myrtles, which 

 demand above all a well drained soil. The three other shrubs which 

 have been blooming so profusely for the last twelve years are growing 

 on the upper grade where the soil is well drained and this experience 

 has taught me never to set Crape Myrtle in a wet or poorly drained 

 soil. — Robert S. Walker, Chattanooga, Tenn. 



