24- 
BY THE WAYSIDE. 
BY THE WAYSIDE 
Published on the fifteenth of each month. 
The official orgaD of the Wisconsin and Illinois Audu¬ 
bon Societies. 
Twenty-five cents per year. Single copies, three cents. 
All communications should be sent to Mus. G. W 
Peckiiam, 646 Marshall St., Milwaukee, WiP. 
In the last number of the Wayside there is 
a misplacement of quotation marks. The quo¬ 
tation from Prof. Weed extends to the end of 
page 10. 
The Indigo Bird. 
Oh, late to come but long to sing, 
My little finch of deep-dyed wing. 
1 welcome thee this day! 
Thou comest with the orchard bloom, 
The azure days, the sweet perfume 
That fills the breath of May. 
A winged gem amid the trees, 
A cheery strain upon the breeze, 
From tree-top sifting down; 
A leafy nest in covert low, 
When daisies come and brambles blow, 
A mate in Quaker brown. 
But most I prize, past summer’s prime, 
When other throats have ceased to chime, 
Thy faithful tree-top strain. 
No brilliant bursts our ears enthrall— 
A prelude with a “dying fall,” 
That soothes the summer’s pain. 
—From John Burroughs in The Century. 
An English clergyman tells how he has been 
successful in taming a dozen or more varieties 
of birds. After many fruitless attempts he 
learned that the only time to tame them 
was in the winter. Then their stock of worms 
and grubs has been exhausted, and, with the 
trees bare and snow on the fields, the birds 
must beg, steal or die. 
In taming a bird, he says, the same as 
taming any other living thing, man is merely 
winning its confidence. The conquest is at¬ 
tained not through fear, but gentleness. Thus, 
in taming a bird, food is used as only a means 
to show the feathered beggar that the giver of 
it means him good and not harm. The first 
step which the English clergyman took in cap¬ 
turing the affections of his wild bird visitors 
was sprinkling some crumbs each morning on 
his doorstep. The news of his charity spread 
with great rapidity through the leafless woods, 
and flocks of robins, chaffinches, coletits, blue- 
tits, greattits, sparrows, blackbirds, thrushes 
and an occasional jackdaw came to feed. After 
the newcomers had grown perfectly confident 
of their security in hopping over the steps 
when the minister was indoors, they had an¬ 
other test. 
The clergyman then spread several crumbs 
of cheese or cake on his palm, and rested his 
hand on the ground. After a great deal of 
twittering, one or two bolder spirits darted 
forward and snatched up the crumbs. The ex¬ 
periment was repeated, and the birds came for 
the crumbs with less timidity. The robins, 
braver than most of their brethren, led the 
way. After a time, the minister placed a 
cracker in his teeth, to find that a robin 
would fly into his face, and carefully, but with 
lightning like quickness, snatch the food in its 
bill and dart away. 
After this time the birds did not wait to be 
invited. As soon as they saw their ,master 
walking in his garden, they would circle about 
his head, and if he stopped a moment to re¬ 
gard their importunities, a robin or a bluetit 
would hop to his shoulder and chirp in-the 
most pleading sort of way. If he sat on his 
porch to read, the birds at last nipped at the 
paper or the pages of his book to attract his 
attention. A whistle at supper time would 
bring a responding flutter of wings from all 
directions. The coming of spring showed that 
the bonds of friendship which had been formed 
in the months of winter destitution, were far 
too strong to be dissolved by warm spring 
sunshine and fresh, green fields. A few in¬ 
grates disappeared, but the vast majority re¬ 
mained. Indeed, the custom of begging, of 
having their food obtained for them, of being 
exempt from the worry and uncertainty of 
hunting for it themselves, seemed to have de¬ 
moralized their independent spirit. Crowds of 
loiterers hung about the garden watching for 
the clergyman, whose approach was greeted 
by tumultuous chirping. Some left the rec¬ 
tory for a time to nest, only to reappear with 
their little ones, to introduce them also to a 
life of vagrancy. 
