66 
by the wayside 
It lives in swamps and on river flats 
and is pretty scarce. When I was com¬ 
ing to school today, I scared one out 
of Merkle’s swamp just back of our 
place. It stands in the swamp and 
makes a noise like this: thump-itie 
thump-tliump-thump. I’t starts this 
queer noise just as the sun sets and 
most always keeps it up until dark. 
Next on the program will be the 
“Bob White” or quail. On an early 
spring morning just after the sun is 
up, you can hear him telling every¬ 
body his name. He can say his name 
•I , 
just as plainly as you or I can. It is 
“Bob White.” Isn’t that a pretty 
name ? But later in the summer, Bob¬ 
bie is gone; no one hears him. Where 
is he? He is in some cool, quiet place, 
keeping his pretty wife company 
through the long days of brooding. 
But at last one egg moves, then an¬ 
other and another until from four¬ 
teen to eighteen little flurry babies 
come creeping into the wide world. 
Then papa quail is noisy again; he sits 
on a fence post, and his call can be 
heard once more—-“Bob White.” boon 
the baby quails can fly. But some of 
them will not fly long. They will be 
taken by the hunter’s cruel fire-stick. 
But the ones that do escape, will sit on 
a fence post early in the next spring 
and call the same familiar call—“Bob 
White.” The fire-stick, you know is a 
gun. 
This makes two; now for another 
one. This is the chicken raiser’s 
friend. It is the kingbird. It is a bud 
a little bigger than a robin. It is a 
very plucky bird and will drive a hawk 
away, if it comes near its home. r l hat 
is why it is good to have a kingbird 
nest near a pen of young chickens. Its 
color is grayish black above, with 
white underparts. 1 will write again. 
From your cousin, 
Harold. 
| We have ventured to publish this 
bit of private correspondence not only 
because it shows commendable observa¬ 
tion but also because Ave hope that 
some of our young readers will be in¬ 
spired by it to try to see and hear just 
as interesting things as our fiiend has 
written about in his letter Ed.] 
The Birds’ Summer 
The summer season is now well be¬ 
gun. Courting and mating are now 
over with and the breeding season is' 
well on. Indeed, for some birds it is 
nearly over with. The first biood ol 
robins is already full grown, but has. 
not yet lost the spotted breast which is 
so characteristic of the thrush family. 
The house sparrows, too, are well 
along; here and there is a flock of 
them. We can pick out the young. 
They just delight in puffing out their 
feathers and in making themselves as 
big a nuisance to their parents as they 
possibly can by refusing to hunt a 
scrap of food for themselves though 
they are able to fly as well as any of 
their tribe. Young martins and blue¬ 
birds are seen now and then flying 
overhead. 
The whole atmosphere of the bird 
world has changed. Whereas in spring 
a certain exuberance filled the air, the 
birds apparently seem to have become 
dull. There is no longer that wanton 
burst of song which characterized the 
early May mornings. True, the pewee 
still proclaims his name, and the song- 
sparrow sings in the thicket. But the 
