58 
BY THE WAYSIDE 
were so numerous at this particular 
season, that a bird student might have 
been misled to the conclusion that they 
were nesting in colonies. But, un¬ 
doubtedly, the true explanation was. 
that this protected piece of prairie 
with its dead grass unburned, was the 
ideal condition for the ground-nesting 
prairie birds. 
The snipe were not the only birds 
that appeared in unusual numbers, but 
all bird-life seemed to regard this par¬ 
ticular piece of land as a perfect para¬ 
dise for a summer home. 
Bob-White would mount the top of 
a dead sumach and call to his mate,— 
Wheat—most—ripe ” “ Wheat—most 
- -ripe,” while she sat patiently brood¬ 
ing the nest-full of snow-white eggs in 
the thick bunch of dead grass nearby. 
Near the little knoll at the farther 
side of the prairie, where earlier in the 
season the Prairie Chicken clan held 
their camp-meeting when many a 
lively scrap between the gallants of 
the company was settled to the entire 
satisfaction of the coy hens who would 
always give expression of their appro¬ 
val with a timid “ye-es,—ye-es—yes, 
yes, yes,—ye-es,” these same matronly 
hens were now quietly tending their 
domestic duties, silently slipping off 
and on their well-filled nests even so 
cunningly hidden under the tufts of 
dead grass. Some of the nests were 
already far advanced towards that 
stage when the peeping egg should an¬ 
nounce the arrival of the covey of 
young chicks; indeed, some of the most 
enterprising ones had already added 
' their quota to the bird census of the 
season. 
The patches of hazelbrush that 
looked like tiny islands of green set in 
a field spangled with the many colored 
gems of Painted-cups, Pinks and Blaz¬ 
ing stars, were densely populated with 
a variety of bush-loving birds. Con¬ 
spicuous among these were the Brown- 
thrashers and Cat-birds, who opened 
the morning services at day-break 
with bird melody rivaling the over- 
rated Avian Opera of the old world. 
Evening vespers were softly chanted 
by the Robin and the “ Vesper-bird;” 
“Cheewinks” rustled in the dead 
leaves that mulched the hazel-groves, 
while untold and unknown varieties of 
just little “ground-birds” and “ bush- 
tits” animated every nook and corner 
of this bird paradise, during the long 
June da vs away back in the earlv Fif- 
ties of the last century. 
«/ 
This is but a repitition of the annual 
picture of this favored locality,—dur¬ 
ing the proceeding years, decades and 
centuries,—when nature’s rules were 
supreme, before the Paleface's Art and 
greed and their Chief Manito, Mam¬ 
mon had invaded the sacred precincts 
of this part of the natural world. 
A slow-moving monster comes creep¬ 
ing up the trail over the picture of this 
pleasant June day. It is the great 
breaking team slowly and solemnly ap¬ 
proaching the new-made home of the 
pioneer settler. The patient-looking 
oxen are unyoked and the driver with 
his great long whip playing a snap¬ 
ping tune that sounds like a scatterng 
volley of pistol shots, “herds the cat¬ 
tle” with many a “haw” and “gee” to 
a nearby part of the common, where 
there is good “feed” and restful shade 
until they are ‘‘rounded-up” the next 
morning to continue their work of 
breaking the wilderness. 
The time has now come to “fire the 
land.” All conditions are favorable 
for a good “burn;”—a clear warm af- 
