The RURAL NEW-YORKER 
All Sorts 
Traveling by Mountain Express 
Charles Winters of Sullivan Co., N. Y., 
sends us the pictures .shown on this page. 
They represent two real products of 
Sullivan County—oxen and a hill farm. 
Listen to Mr. Winters: 
I send pictures of Lee A. Winters and 
team of oxen, “Mountain Express,” tak¬ 
ing two calves through the streets of 
Liberty, N. Y. He was stopped bv the 
wife of President Monroe of the Sulli¬ 
van County National Bank, and held 
up, as seen in picture, as a curiosity of 
modern civilization. 
Lee Winters has a high hill farm, as 
seen in picture of house, the place for 
comfort and purest of spring water in 
the spring house near the little boy. The 
farm is hard to labor with horses, and 
the cost of keeping horses for the road 
is too slow and costly, so he uses an auto 
for the road and oxen for the farm. A 
pair of horses cost .$250 a year, besides 
a man’s labor a part of the time to take 
care of them. The oxen in the picture 
have eaten nothing but hay all Winter, 
perhaps five tons at .$15 per ton. In 
Summer after work take off the yoke and 
turn into a pasture. Modernism is ex¬ 
pensive. CHARLES WINTERS. 
New York. 
Birds from a Kitchen Window 
Part II 
If is doubtful whether birds have as 
much instinct in regard to future weather 
conditions as they are given credit for. 
The TV inter before last was very cold, 
and the Spring was extremely late. That 
year a meadow lark did not go south 
with his comrades, and perished from the 
cold in spite of our efforts to feed him. 
Song sparrows either remained during 
the Winter or returned early in Feb¬ 
ruary. During a severe blizzard in Janu¬ 
ary we saw a fox sparrow fluffing out 
his feathers and trying to brace himself 
against the wind while he picked up 
crumbs we had scattered on the snow. 
Every day until Spring came and he 
had left for his northern home he came 
at four o’clock and ate the crumbs we 
placed on the doorstep for him. This year 
we did not see a Spring bird until March 
25, when the bluebirds, robins, song spar¬ 
rows, kildees and red-winged blackbirds 
arrived all together. The early birds are 
not at all punctual, but the birds that are 
due about the middle of May are quite 
certain to arrive on the same date each 
year, the meadow lark greeting each new¬ 
comer with his joyous “Spring is here! 
Spring is here!” It is then that we are 
glad we have a cherry tree just outside 
our door, for it is with the background 
of white flowers that the Baltimore 
oriole’s brilliant orange and black coat 
appears to the best advantage. 
The song sparrow is with us longer 
than any other Summer resident, and is 
always ready to sing one of his six dif¬ 
ferent songs. The name of “Little 
Friend” that Thornton W. Burgess has 
given him suits him exactly. He is the 
first bird to greet the dawn, in fact we 
often hear him give a sleepy little twitter, 
then burst into song, in the middle of the 
still Summer night, and he gives his eve¬ 
ning song even later than does the yellow 
warbler. 
In the Spring we see the red-winged 
blackbirds balancing on the cattails along 
the bank of the creek singing “Kon-ker- 
ree” while the kildees fly overhead plain¬ 
ly calling “Kildee-kildee,” then alighting 
and walking tipsily up and down, display¬ 
ing, the conspicuous black bands on their 
breast. Occasionally a long-legged crane 
comes to the creek to look for fish, a,nd 
a /picturesque sight in Summer is the 
kingfisher perched on a dead limb fishing 
for. minnows in the deepest hole in the 
lit/tie stream. 
! A bird that we greatly enjoy watching 
is. the marsh hawk, which has a nest in 
a nearby swamp; he flies so. gracefully 
and easily high up in the air, then over 
the fields looking for mice and frogs. The 
last time we saw him in the Fall he ap¬ 
peared to be a grayish white that blend¬ 
ed perfectly with the early snowfall, 
although we have been unable to learn 
from any of the bird books that he has 
this protective coloring. 
We have read that the cedar wax- 
wings were very polite birds, and were 
amused one day to see six or eight 
perched closely together on a limb of a 
cherry tree passing a cherry from one to 
the other, bowing and whispering in a 
most courteous manner. 
Probably the birds that we enjoy more 
tliaq any other are the bluebirds'; their 
soft whistle is so gentle and sweet, and 
their life is a shining example of domes¬ 
tic happiness. Our bluebird is a most de¬ 
voted husband; he sings sweetly to his 
mate and stays on guard during the long, 
bpt days. When she comes off the nest 
for a moment’s rest and refreshment he 
accompanies her as far as the telephone 
wire, where they stop for a moment’s chat 
about household matters and the weather, 
then she flies on while he goes back to 
his station on the limb outside the box, 
ready to escort her to the nest when she 
returns. In spite of his gentle ways he 
will give battle whenever an English 
sparrow approaches the tree. The blue¬ 
birds appear to be as successful parents 
as the robins, usually raising two broods 
each season. Hate last Fall it was in¬ 
teresting to see a group of nine bluebirds 
of various sizes and trimness of feathers 
flying among the trees on the lawn and 
saying farewell to the old home before 
migrating to the Southland. What a 
wonderful experience they must have 
had during these long Winter months, 
although they do not take as long a jour¬ 
ney as does the oriole, who winters in 
Central America, or the carefree bobo¬ 
link who must go way down to Southern 
Brazil. 
Our birds have many enemies, and the 
greatest of these are cats and English 
sparrows. I have always had it im¬ 
pressed on my mind that cats are neces¬ 
sary to keep down rats and mice on a 
farm, but when I have my ideal farm it 
will be entirely catless. Our cats are 
carefully trained in only one respect; 
they know that if they are caught glanc¬ 
ing at a bird on the lawn they are liable 
to see whatever missile is handiest come 
flying after them, but it is in the early 
morning and just at twilight that they 
take their revenge and rob all the nests 
they can find. One farmer friend solves 
the problem by carefully corralling his 
cats in the corncrib during the entire 
nesting season. It is with deep satisfac¬ 
tion that I think of those cats pacing up 
and down and gazing out through the 
cracks of that corn-house into a world 
full of bird music. But I have never 
been able to make anyone else see my 
point of view, so we put tin around the 
trunks of trees that we know contain 
bird’s nests, trying to guard as many as 
we can, while out in the orchards and 
fields many nestlings are destroyed that 
would have been of much value to the 
entire farm. 
English sparrows are great, pests, not 
only because of their exasperating chat¬ 
ter, but because they destroy so many 
eggs and young song birds. I have sev¬ 
eral times seen an English sparrow boldly 
come to the nest of a little chippie and 
pull her off by her wing and throw her 
on the ground, and only the fact that I 
was watching the proceedings prevented 
the eggs from being destroyed. 
Sorrows come to birds as well as to 
people. TVe have never been able to for¬ 
get a little chipping sparrow that built 
her nest in the vine over the kitchen door. 
She was very friendly toward the family, 
but if a stranger came to the door or lin¬ 
gered for a moment on the porch she flew 
to the cherry tree and scolded until they 
disappeared. We all enjoyed watching 
both parents feed their four lusty young¬ 
sters, and were allowed to help. One 
night a hard rain came from the east, but 
as it never had rained on the nest we did 
not realize it could. In the morning 
someone remarked that the babies must 
have had enough to eat for once, for they 
were unusually quiet. On investigation 
we found the little mother vainly trying 
to bring warmth and life to four little 
cold bodies. We can never forgive our¬ 
selves for not attempting to protect them, 
for any one of us would rather have stood 
out in the rain to hold an umbrella over 
them than to have met the pathetic ques¬ 
tioning in that mother bird’s eyes. 
That same year a pair of young and 
inexperienced orioles built a very poor 
imitation of their usual hanging nest in 
one of the maples, much nearer the 
ground than I have ever known orioles to 
build. All went well until one day when 
the little ones were nearly ready to fly the 
wind blew r very hard, and down came 
babies, cradle and all. One nestling was 
killed and there was a hole in the bot¬ 
tom of the nest. We made a sort of bag of 
gray cloth, put the nest inside and tied 
it securely to the maple branch. One 
baby stayed in the nest as a good baby 
should, but the other one sat on the edge 
in Sullivan Co., A. Y. 
and looked out at the great world in a 
most comical manner. The parents were 
nervous and foolish and refused to go 
near the strange looking home. The next 
morning all the birds had disappeared, 
so we could only hope the young ones had 
been strong enough to fly away with their 
parents. 
Any time of year is the best time to be¬ 
gin the study of birds ; if one begins in 
Winter there are fewer birds and it is 
therefore less confusing, but it is in 
Spring and Summer that they are most 
fascinating. Few farmer folks have time 
really to study birds, but we can all take 
time to observe and enjoy those that come 
to our door, and whether at home or afield 
a pair of opera glasses and a camera will 
aid much in that enjoyment. 
Probably the time and place to see and 
hear the birds at their best is just at day¬ 
light of a June morning on the edge of 
some woodland. But few of us can spare 
the time for early morning bird walks, 
unless we go some Sunday morning and 
give up attending the church service later 
in the day, and though 1 am a firm be¬ 
liever in the habit of regular church at¬ 
tendance, I wonder iff that little family 
group, when they look at the sky and the 
hills, the fields and woods, dripping with 
dew, and hear the sleepy twitter of the 
birds burst info a joyous melody of 
thanksgiving, may not feel the presence of 
Hod and Ilis loving kindness nearer than 
they ever have within the walls of a 
church. A FARM WOMAN. 
Minnesota Looks Towards New York 
I was interested in Mrs. Usher’s article 
on page 410. For some time we have 
been interested in the New York apple 
country and I want to learn all I can of 
the country before breaking up here. We 
live in the country 18 miles from Minne¬ 
apolis, and my husband goes in to busi- 
745 
ness every day. We have an orchard and 
have handled as many as 2,(XX) bushels a 
season. We thought if we were going to 
raise apples we might as well go into the 
apple country, and had thought about the 
Hudson River fruit country. We know 
a bit about cows, having kept one, and 
lave chickens, so we won't be quite green 
at the business. With .$10,000 to invest, 
do you imagine one could make a living 
without much worry? We hear stories 
of apples rotting on the ground in New 
-ork State, and again of people making 
enough on apples to go South in the Win¬ 
ter, and it is hard to know what to be¬ 
lieve. I bought a bushel of Bartlett 
pears from New York last Fall and they 
are the best I ever had. We cannot raise 
either peaches or pears here in Minne¬ 
sota. I paid only .$4 for the pears away 
out here, and I just wonder what the 
grower got. Would Mrs. Usher give some 
experience? e. m. a. 
Minnesota. 
I live about as far from Boston as you 
do from Minneapolis. If your husband 
has a good position in the city it seems 
to me that he would be very unwise to 
give it up and expect to make a living on 
a farm in a strange locality. Perhaps lie 
could find outside employment there, but 
in these, days of unrest and unemploy¬ 
ment it is quite an uncertainty. 
t I do^ not know about prices of farms in 
New York, but around here there is noth¬ 
ing less than $10,000 unless it is in the 
backwoods somewhere, without many con¬ 
veniences. To get a good farm on or near 
a State road, where it i.s easy to market 
one’s goods or get to a market easily, one 
has to pay a good price. It takes a few 
years to get anything out of a run-down 
farm. Labor is so high it is cheaper to 
buy a house in good condition than to 
buy a tumbledown one and have to re¬ 
pair and remodel it. If you have been 
used to modern conveniences it would be 
hard for you in middle life to go back to 
the country and “rough” it. Our house 
was in first-class condition with all mod¬ 
ern conveniences but gas, but. the land 
was run out and the fruit trees neglected. 
We have been here nearly four years, and 
the farm itself is not on a paying basis 
yet. We hope this season to make good. 
It takes hard work, patience, sacrifice 
and plenty of capital to put such a place 
on a paying basis. 
We got $1 a box last year in Boston 
for good apples, and $1 a barrel at the 
rider mill for everything. Bartlett and 
.Sheldon pears brought us $1 a box at the 
door. You can see most of the money 
goes to the men in between the farmer 
and the consumer. One buying farm 
produce in the city store thinks what a 
fortune the farmer must make. One year 
S helped my husband transplant 1,000 
lettuce plants, and when it was headed 
up fine we were very proud of it. We 
packed 18 heads in a box and took it to 
a grocer in a nearby city and got 15 cents 
for the whole box. The grocer sold it 
for 10 cents a head. Some New England 
farmers let their fruit rot rather than sell 
it cheap. Since our experience with that 
box of lettuce we have never raised any 
more to sell. Our surplus we gladly give 
to our customers or feed it to the hens. 
We have about SO apple trees, 80 peach 
and only three pears. We sell all our 
peaches and pears at the door, and most 
of our apples. The peach crop in this 
vicinity is very uncertain on account of 
late frosts. We raise mostly carrots, 
sweet corn, peas, beets and string beans. 
Last year we planted about 10 acres. AVe 
sell our hay standing, and last year sold 
our carrots in the ground, as it was 
cheaper than hiring help to dig and box 
them. 
My husband has always had hens, even 
ill the city, from a boy up, so was not 
green at the poultry business. We have 
no other live stock. TVe have a tractor 
and do our plowing and harrowing with 
that. This year we hope to buy a power 
cultivator. mrs. ada j. usher. 
Massachusetts. 
More About the Columbia River 
I have been very much interested in 
the “Notes from the Ox-team Express.” 
I have traveled by rail over a good part 
of the country that he is covering by ox 
team, and I wonder at the undertaking. 
In his account of In's trip through Oregon 
and down the Columbia River he de¬ 
scribes the old Columbia as “nothing but 
a sleepy, irregular stream of water with 
here and there a mound of Java rock 
sticking out.” This is true of the lower 
Columbia, and at points where he is trav¬ 
eling, but if he would travel up stream 
from the point where he struck ’the river 
he will find a mighty river, swift flowing 
and very turbulent at places; so much so 
that it is not safe for navigation most of 
the way, although there are some places 
that can be navigated. There used to be 
a steamboat line between Wenatchee and 
the Okanagan River in Washington but 
above that it was swift and dangerous. 
It is a wonderful river, flowing hundreds 
of miles around the big bend in Washing¬ 
ton in a canyon 2,000 ft. deep. The im¬ 
pression that the Columbia is only a lazy 
sleepy river is incorrect. On the con¬ 
trary, for hundreds of miles it is a 
mighty rushing river. OTIS STRINGER. 
Nebraska. 
Kind Uncle: “Now, what sort of doll 
would you like, Barbara?” Barbara: 
1 wins, please.”—Passing Show. 
The “Mountain Express 
A Hill Farm in Sullivan Co., N. Y. 
