BY THE WAYSIDE 
46 fc 
perched on a man’s bed. Then I am 
afraid the chickadee is afflicted with a 
very strong curiosity. And if chickadee 
stores up in his little brain all that his 
black, beady eyes investigate, he must 
become a very wise doctor in truth. 
You are moving along a forest road al¬ 
most oppressed with the winter silence 
of the woods, when suddenly the air is 
filled with sound and movement. Down 
come the flock, one alights on a cat-tail 
and makes the down fly in his search for 
seeds next to the stalk; others go over the 
weed stalks, finding here and there a seed, 
others are in the trees, and on old stumps, 
anywhere that is not covered with snow 
affords a hunting ground for chickadee. 
Then one notices you, presumably be¬ 
cause you are not snow-covered, possibly 
with the hope that there may be seeds 
on your surface. Anyway, with the ag¬ 
gressive announcement that he is chick¬ 
adee-dee-dee he comes to see who you 
are. He alights about three feet in front 
of you, and, after a minute investigation, 
he is joined by a companion and they 
both go round to see what may be on the 
other side. You overhear a remark and 
remember with dismay that there was a 
three-cornered tear in that old coat, a 
barb-wire tear, but you thought it 
wouldn’t be noticed out here. Who is 
going to see you when you are out in the 
woods? Chickadee-dee-dee. Well, who 
cares how he looks in the woods? Chick- 
ad ee-dee-dee. Who ever dressed up for a 
trip in the woods, anyway? Chickadee- 
dee-dee. You feel rather worsted in the 
argument and vet vou stand vour ground 
hoping for justification, by some means, 
when with a few final twitters, the flock 
move on to some new feeding ground. 
‘■‘He who is not actively kind is cruel” 
Beaver Dam, Wis. 
Dear Wavside:— 
y 
On November 20th I saw a robin. He 
sat on a Virginia creeper vine and was 
eating the berries. He did not seem a 
bit lonesome, even though he had no 
friends or companions. If he is here 
now it must be much harder for him to 
find enough to eat and a warm place to 
sleep at night. 
Muriel H. Andrews. 
Stevens Point, Wis. 
Dear Wayside: 
This summer a little wren wanted to 
build in the spout of our cistern pump. 
She would take in sticks and straws and 
then when some one pumped some water 
all the sticks would be washed out in the 
pail. I told my teacher about it and she 
gave me a chalk box and told me to cut 
a hole in it and nail it on the pump. I 
nailed it on the pump just opposite the 
spout. Then I tied a piece of thin cloth 
over the spout and the same day the 
wren began to carry sticks into the box. 
The next morning I saw the cat watching 
the box for the wren to come out. So 
we gave the cat away. I hope the wren 
