86 
BY THE WAYSIDE 
and August the meadowlark eats no 
grain at all and in September and Oc¬ 
tober grain forms less than one per 
cent of its food. But best of all is 
the fact that it attacks some of our 
worst weeds. These are the follow¬ 
ing weeds, on whose seeds it partly 
lives : pigeon grass, panic grass, smart- 
weed. rag-weed, gromwell seed, black 
mustard and bayberry. 
Aside from all these considerations, 
the meadowlark deserves protection at 
our hands. Its song is characteristic 
and not easily forgotten, because of its 
sweetness and individuality. To hear 
a flock of them call to one another 
from different parts of a field is a 
truly inspiring thing. And, as if not 
content with charming us with them 
wild sweet song, they come more than 
hailf way to us, as it seems to me, 
and, alighting in a nearby tree, they 
greet us early in the morning with 
their cheering call. Priceless is such 
a bird to us! Shame rests heavily on 
the head of the thoughffess boy who 
robs a meadowlark’s nest, and more 
heavily still does it hang over that of 
the man who will shoot one or who 
will permit another person to do it! 
* Illinois Prize Letter 
Emerson School, Maywood, Ill., 
March 31, 1911. 
Dear Wayside :—• 
T wish to send you this story about 
two bluebirds. Tt is true. One day 
this Spring 1 saw two bluebirds 
perched on a wire. Tt was quite 
windy and they seemed to enjoy rock¬ 
ing back and forth on it. Suddenly a 
strong blast of wind made one of 
them lose his balance and he had to 
lift his wings to keep from falling. 
Then they began to play. They left 
the wire and one tried to lly away 
from the other. The pursuer soon 
overtook the pursued and then each 
became the opposite of what it had 
been before. They did not fly far so 
I was able to watch them. 
After a while they tired of play and 
began to sing. Their song was beauti¬ 
ful and I enjoyed it greatly. I was 
sorry when 1 had to leave them and 
when I returned they were gone. 
Yours truly, 
Edith Skemp. 
13 years old. 
So. Chicago, Ill., March 21, 1911. 
Dear Wayside :— 
One day while I was spending my 
vacation at my aunts, I happened to 
see a, robin fly right underneath the 
window. I was sitting in the swing 
and I saw my aunt open the window 
and throw some crumbs out to him. 
Then the dog, whose name was Glen, 
came along. The robin flew on his | 
back and he walked off with the bird 
on his back. 
Afterwards T asked my aunt about 
it. She said that one morning in early 
spring she saw a robin flying around. 
Tt was pretty cold and she threw some 
crumbs out to him. After this he 
came every day 7 . She called him 
Timmy and every time she wants Trm 
she justs call him by his name and he 
comes. Afterwards he made friends 
with the dog and he now come every 
vear. T was out there one Sunday 
looking for him, but my aunt says that 
he doesn’t come till about AT ay. 
Yours truly, 
Agnes Luedtke, 
9229 Marquette Ave.. 
'South Oiicago, Til. 
Age 13. 
