Tie RURAL NEW-YORKER 
Tons: to go back and join again my West¬ 
ern friends. I am a strong girl, about 
five feet two inches high, and weigh about 
140 pounds. 
I have lived on a farm for the last 12 
years. I am the most lonesome girl on 
earth, and haven’t a single friend here. 
Our farm is about 200 acres. Our house 
is on a hill, from where we can see a 
nice lake. We have three horses, seven 
\ 
George Catches a Poultry Thief 
cows, seven heifers, 150 chickens and one 
pig. I do not. milk, hut I can. I take 
the milk to the station every day. I 
have to help my father fin the farm every 
day in Summer. 
To m.v great disappointment my par¬ 
ents do not allow me to go to school. I 
would be in the first year of high if I 
went. I like school very well. 
I agree with Mary Heller, and do not 
like the farm. There is nothing but hard 
work. I have been a reader of the Boys’ 
and Girls’ Page over a year, but never 
had a chance to write before. L. p. 
New York. 
I have been reading Our Page ever 
since it was published. I would have 
written before, only 1 couldn’t get my 
courage up to that point. 
I agree with Mary Heller in many 
ways. I am a graduate of a public 
school, and then when 1 thought t was 
to go to high school T had to stay home 
and work on the farm. I didn’t get a 
cent. I was up early in the morning 
until late at night, and when I would 
want to go to a show some evening 
(chiefly Saturdays) I was told I was 
“spending more than I earned.” 
Finally T received a calf, which T was 
to keep and feed until it was big enough 
to sell to the butcher. If was to be mine, 
and I was proud of it. lie was a beauty, 
all black, and had a white star on his 
head, and he was heavy, well-built for his 
age. At length the time came to sell 
him. He sold for about $25, which was 
good on account of the low prices then 
prevailing. I thought, “Now I will have 
some spending money which I won’t have 
to tease the folks for.” But I didn’t see 
a cent of it, and when I asked for some 
to get some new clothes that I sorely 
needed they said : “Wait until you need 
it. You can do without it for a while 
yet.” 
Farming is all right when life is made 
at least bearable, but when you have to 
work like a Trojan for charity, not for 
me. This is only one of my “pleasant” 
recollections of farm life, and I am not 
the only one who has them. Parents keep 
drumming into our ears about the big 
debt we owe them. We realize it, but do 
they realize the debt they owe us? 
Money isn’t everything, either. When I 
made a mistake T would get nagged at, 
and I’d never hear the end of it for a 
week. I am now in the city, and pro¬ 
pose to stay right here. I have a good 
position, getting in a week more than I 
would ever see in a year up home. I 
will close now. and I hope that you will 
see this “dark” side as well as the 
“bright” side of the question. 
Yours truly. 
New .Jersey. G. K.. 16 years. 
This last letter brings up a good many 
serious points, and your editor hesitated 
some time before deciding to publish ’t. 
Yet if we are to be fair in this matter 
we want to look at all sides of the ques¬ 
tion. and I am sorry to say that I have 
known of a few other cases like this. 
But I believe with Madeleine that “on 
the whole there are more children who 
enjoy the pleasant side” of farm life, 
while they do their share of the little 
tasks that make the home more comfort¬ 
able and happy. It is all such a big, 
hard question, but Myrtle has come 
nearer the truth than anyone else. It is 
often a case of tryiny to like things, or 
to see the bright side, or to be friends in 
order to have friends. Very much more 
depends on how we look at things, and 
what our disposition is, than on what we 
have or where we are. I told you this 
last time. It ought to be clearer now 
with these letters before you. But there 
is much more to the story yet. What 
do you say? 
The Junco or Snowbird 
I have been surprised at not receiving 
more answers to last month’s What Is It. 
Can it be that most of you do not know 
this common Winter bird? Go out today 
and find some weedy fence row or field, 
and you will almost surely see a flock of 
juncos. Y'ou will notice the white outer 
tail-feathers as they fly. and will watch 
them busily picking weed seeds. Make 
your plans to feed them this Winter at a 
window station, or in the dooryard, and 
they will come regularly and grow very 
fame. They are happy, useful birds to 
know and to protect. 
Following are the names of those read¬ 
ers who did know the slate-colored junco 
from Lorene Besse.v’s description, and 
also a good letter : 
New York State. — Philip Ryder, 
Gladys Feldberg, Marie Hoag, Maxine 
Russell. Carlotta Baker. Anna Fessenden, 
.Fane Townsend. Margaret MacKenzie, 
Willis Miller. 
Vermont.—Warren G. Brown. 
T think the bird described by Lorene 
Bessey is a slate-colored junco. There 
are many of them around here in the 
Fall. I iive on a farm of about SI acres, 
and at both ends there are woods. As I 
was riding a horse this morning along 
the edge of the woods, looking for old 
birds’ nests or anything interesting 1 
might see (for now tin 1 leaves have fallen 
and the trees are nearly bare) a flock of 
.juncos flew up from the underbrush 
trilling a sweet song. At first they 
looked something like vesper sparrows 
with white flashes on their tails, or 
young meadow larks, but I knew they 
were not. They lit on a cherry tree in 
the brush and still sang their sweet song. 
The females are not as dark as the males, 
but are a sort of grayish-brown on back 
and breast. The wings are gray and the 
tail is gray with the white flash. The 
under parts are white. 1 have never 
found their nests. I find them very tame 
and friendly. They seem always to be 
happy. They come near the door some¬ 
times after crumbs I have thrown out for 
the birds. Juncos seem to like to inhabit 
gardens, perhaps for the weed seeds they 
find there. Your friend. 
New York. caki.otta baker. 
What Is It? 
One day when my father was painting 
our house he daubed some paint on some¬ 
thing. It squealed like a rabbit. It was 
hidden in the eaves of our house. Il was 
light brown in color, with ears like a 
mouse, and about as large as the latter. 
It also had wings. 
Ward W. Konkle, a Pennsylvania 
reader, sent this Nature Puzzle, and it is 
a good one, I am sure that many of you 
will know the answer and will send in¬ 
teresting stories about-you have seen. 
I must ask you to put on your thinking 
caps and send me some more nature puz¬ 
zles. We want to keep them going, don’t 
we? and my supply is running low. Just 
give a good description of something in 
nature without giving its name. Then 
we will all try to guess the answer. 
The Picture Story 
Would you believe that, only one story 
• dine about the funny picture with the 
three boys with their ducks? To be sure, 
we haven't had picture stories for some 
time, and I took you by surprise. But 
you want to be on the watch. We have 
so many interesting things to do and talk 
about now that we cannot get them all 
in each month, so we have to spread 
them around. However, the story that 
did come is a good one. and here it is: 
Last month there was a picture of 
three boys trying to make their ducks 
look pleasant. Well, I am going to tell 
you how they came to have their picture 
taken with their ducks. 
()ne day these boys, whose names are 
Harold, Fred and John, went to play 
with their friend Frank Whitney. Frank’s 
father had a duck farm, and Frank had 
taken all the care of the incubators that 
housed the duck eggs. Frank showed 
them the ducks so proudly that when the 
boys went home they begged their father 
to buy them some ducks. “We’ll take all 
the care of them, so they will be big and 
fat in the Fall.” they promised; “please 
buy us some.” Their father said he 
would buy some in the morning if they 
would promise to take better care of them 
1381 
than they had taken of the rabbits they 
had had before. They promised, so in 
the afternoon next day when their father 
came home from farm work he had a box 
in his arms that held 12 fluffy little ducks. 
The boys were almost beside themselves 
with joy. Frank could boast no more. 
Their ducks would be bigger than Frank’s 
if they were cared for. So they built a 
nice pen and put a large pan of water in 
it so the little ducks could swim. 
The boys fed them every day at regular 
times and kept clean water until they 
were about two months old. Then they 
let them out to run around. The ducks 
soon found a small pond behind the 
house, and there they spent most of their 
time. The boys fed them twice a day, and 
in the Fall their father said that they had 
taken such good care of their ducks that 
none of them was sick or had died, so he 
would let them have their picture taken 
with their ducks. The boys ran and 
called their favorites, and soon they were 
back in the orchard with their ducks. 
Their father took the picture, and after 
it was finished he sent one lo Our Page. 
vera taylor (15 years.) 
The Pictures 
Two fine pictures were sent by E. 
Katharine Trench of New York. These 
are on the opposite page, and Katharine 
wrote: “One is of my dog and me, taken 
last Summer, and the other is of me 
shoveling snow away from a feeding sta¬ 
tion for my birds, which you can see 
above my head. My costume is not very 
conventional, but I have to wear it here 
in Winter.” Your editor thinks the cos¬ 
tume is fine, comfortable and sensible. 
Katharine is a great outdoor girl and 
nature lover. All you girls can follow 
her example. 
Roy Bergman, also of New York, sent 
the picture of the handsome little pony, 
whose name is “Nibs.” 
George Ruff, a New York farm boy. 
caught the skunk, and had his picture 
taken with it. When they catch chickens 
or are very numerous, skunks are harm¬ 
ful, but otherwise who knows what good 
they do the farmer? 
Dorr and his purebred hull. Prince, 
must be very good friends in order to do 
what they are doing. How would you 
like to drive this “steed?” 
John Taylor of Massachusetts has at¬ 
tracted the downy woodpecker to the post 
of his back porch by putting out a piece 
of suet. You can do the same, and I hope 
you will. 
From a Little Boy 
We went to the village one time last 
Fall, and there was a man who had 
caught an opossum in a ’coon trap. But 
he did not know what is was for a while. 
People told him it was an opossum. We 
all went to see it, and it. was a light gray 
color. It was about the size of a com¬ 
mon house cat. and it had a long slender 
tail like a rat. We were surprised to 
think that lie caught an opossum in the 
woods of Vermont. Did you ever know 
of anybody getting an opossum in Ver¬ 
mont? 
Your little friend. 
LEONARD WHITE. 
Good-bye 
Don’t get sick after that Thanksgiving 
dinner! Use an hour of your vacation 
to write to Our Page. We have so many 
things to talk about; also I would like 
some suggestions on “How to spend the 
Christmas vacation.” Address your let¬ 
ters to Edward M. Tuttle, in care The 
Rural New-Yorker. 33” West 30th 
Street. New York, 
“Ah,” said Downy, “here is something 
Very good to eat. T like it; 
And I’m not afraid to come here 
To this i> 0 ;.t close by the window, 
For I know that I’ll be welcome, 
I and all my forest comrades, 
Ity John Taylor, nature lover. 
Wanti my picture? He can hare it, 
T<i‘ji, tap, tap. I'm very hungry.” 
Just a pet is this bull Guernsey. 
Bure of blood and in the herd book, 
But he works for Iris young master. 
Harnessed to a light frame wagon ; 
All the little jobs of trucking. 
Prince and Dorr can do together. 
