HOUSE AND GARDEN 
February, 
1914 
couldn’t be very sure 
of anything. 
“You are a mean 
thing, Uncle Archie, 
but I’m going to for¬ 
give you. Will I ever 
have such a chance 
again ?” 
“You are going to 
be taken to the head 
of a river that is alive 
with birds, where 
their nests can be 
counted by the thou¬ 
sand. They have been 
cruelly treated and 
will be frightened and 
fly from you at first, 
but in a week you'll 
have dozens of 
friends among them.” 
“Will they let me 
go near them and talk 
to them ?” 
“They will talk to 
you until you have 
learned their lan¬ 
guage and can talk 
back to them. They're not troubled with being tongue-tied.” 
“Of course I know you don’t mean that, but it is a nice kind 
of nonsense and it warms your heart to the beautiful things. I 
mean to find out if 1 can understand anything at all of what they 
say.” 
“Do you remember that I 
showed you Gordon’s Pass the 
other day?” 
“Yes; it was just be¬ 
low Naples.” 
“Well,” a man is 
camped near there who 
has spent all his life among the wild 
creatures of the forests and streams, 
and he has picked up the language 
of many of them. Of course he is 
shv, but the people of Naples know 
him and he lets some of them go into 
the woods with him, and he calls to 
him the birds they ask for. I have 
known him to call up one wild tur¬ 
key gobbler and then another, talk¬ 
ing quarrelsomely to each in turn, 
until when the birds spied one an¬ 
other a free fight followed.” 
“Can people like us, who 
don’t live in the woods, ever 
get on real friendly terms 
with wild birds?” 
“Anybody can get on good 
terms with them if in bis heart 
he really wants to.” 
“Would it be the same if 
she wanted to from the bot¬ 
tom of her heart ?” 
“Within a few days you will 
be ashamed that you ever 
doubted it. One member of 
the Camp-Fire Club 
makes a point of get¬ 
ting acquainted with 
all the wild birds 
about his home. They 
come to him to be fed 
and some follow him 
into the house, while 
others perch on his 
fingers and take food 
from his hand.” 
“Can I do that at 
home in the Cats¬ 
kills?” 
“Yes, if you'll have 
your cats killed. Cats 
and birds don't as¬ 
similate excepting to 
the disadvantage of 
the birds.” 
‘‘How does your 
friend begin with his 
birds ?” 
“He never begins, 
he is always at it. He 
carries a box of 
worms in his pocket 
and pins on his coat. 
When he sees a bird on her nest or in a tree he gets a long, slim 
stick and pins a worm to the end of it. He approaches the bird 
very gently, holding the worm toward her. I have seen a wild 
bird take the worm on his first advance, and within an hour eat 
others freely from his hand.” 
“No bird would do that for me," 
said the girl, shaking her head. 
“Not at first; they don’t often for 
him, but if you will be very patient and 
gentle you will win out in the 
end. How earnestly will you 
play the game ?” 
“I’ll carry worms in my 
mouth, like the boy in the story, 
if necessary.” 
Two days later the girl had her chance. 
We had carried the big boat to the head 
of the river that was fed from the pure 
water of the Everglades. For miles we 
had forced our way through masses of eel 
and manatee grass that choked the 
river from bank to bank. Seldom 
could the engine run five consecutive 
minutes, and our boy Harri¬ 
son spent most of his time un¬ 
der water as he tore the 
twisted grass from propeller 
and shaft. Trees came to the 
water’s edge and birds rose 
constantly from them, but al¬ 
ways a hundred or more yards 
in advance of the boat. Mar¬ 
ion stood near the bow with 
her camera, never getting a 
shot at a bird. She plain¬ 
tively asked: 
“However can I get near a 
(Continued on page 140) 
‘Often I was Marion's accomplice, and once posed in the canoe with a young colored curlew on my 
hand, for the birds were by this time quite tame” 
