BY THE WAYSIDE 
11 
'! 
feathers left if lie stayed, and he might not 
have any eyes either, to see his way home, so 
he lazily hew up from the tree, saying “I 
don’t want your scrawny little babies, and you 
I need not make such a fuss.” The birds all 
followed him to the ravine, and he flew fast 
as soon as they stopped chasing him, flying at 
his eyes, and pulling out his smooth black 
feathers, that he was so proud of. Mrs. Blue 
•Jay said with trembling voice, “Thank you 
good friends; I will not trouble you any more.” 
The other birds went back to their families, 
and talked about the affair, for the rest of the 
[ day. The little birds grew rapidly, and in two 
or three days, were strong enough to fly to an¬ 
other tree; and in a week, they were gone, 
only coming back every day to see that the 
old home was still there. They came often, 
until the cold weather came, and then they 
went to a warm place to spend the winter. I 
missed their sharp little voices, and hoped that 
they had found a nice warm home. When 
spring comes, I look for them as soon as the 
Robins begin to build. They have had their 
nests by my window for three years, and I 
shall look for them next spring. They are 
dear, brave, handsome birds, and tireless work¬ 
ers; they endure heat, rain, and many dis¬ 
comforts, and are never caught napping. The 
Blue Jays and Sparrows find their match in 
the King birds, and soon learn to let them 
alone. If you have an opportunity next year, 
watch a pair of King brds, and see if you do 
not learn to admire them, for all their good 
sense and bravery. Urana Newell. 
THE MILKWEED BUTTERFLY. 
You all know the Milkweeds with their heavy 
clusters of purplish blossoms and broad, thick, 
milky leaves. Look closely on the underside 
of these in midsummer, and at at least one in 
the patch will be found to shelter a tiny white 
body, scarcely distinguishable from a bit of 
juice which has exuded from a wound and 
dried. But this little speck has a regular 
form, somewhat conical, and fine lines run 
down from the top. It is the egg of the beau¬ 
tiful Monarch or Milkweed Butterfly. If you 
will pick the leaf bearing the egg, and carry 
it home and watch it, as I have done many 
times, you will be repaid with as fascinating 
a life story as I know. Many insects require 
months to finish ther metamorphosis, for they 
pass the winter in the dormant state. But 
,iere is one which passes thru egg, larva, anu 
pupa stages up to the adult, all in a few weeks’ 
time. 
The egg will soon begin to turn dark, and in 
a day or two, out will come a tiny dark cater¬ 
pillar, so much like a speck on the leaf that 
you can hardly find it. But what it lacks in 
size, it makes up in appetite. It begins on 
its cast egg-shell; whether from motives of 
economy or motives of protection, I do not 
know. Then it commences on the leaf and in 
an amazingly short time it has made a hole 
which it increases rapidly. This is one way to 
find the little larvae, as we often do when 
searching for the eggs. They usually keep to 
the under side of the leaf, probably to escape 
their enemies. Unless one is looking especial¬ 
ly for them, their color and position keep them 
concealed. I have sometimes seen them eat 
into the midrib so that the leaf would bend 
over, and wondered if they did this so that 
they would be more completely concealed. 
(Continued on Page 15) 
