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minded things there is hardly an animal or bird 
that cannot be wooed close to one’s heart. Even 
so in our consideration of the animals and birds 
that surround us: but few of the people can bring 
themselves to live in accord with them. 
The constant love and appreciation of Nature 
changes one in his views on life, all in all. The 
constant communion with her in her manifold 
presentations awakens in one a quiet, thoughtful 
religion, projected along a philosophical plane. 
New viewpoints on existence arise; a deeper re¬ 
spect springs into shape; and one lives in both 
visible and invisible accord with the cosmic 
forces. One finds that in silence are the bright¬ 
est things said; and in Nature’s solitude, content¬ 
ment and peacefulness are not things of brazen, 
glaring words, merely, but keen realities. Winds 
blowing; leaves murmuring in a thousand con¬ 
spicuous voices; sunlight, starlight, moonlight; 
brook waters laughing; lakes placid as mirrors; 
and the birds warbling, twittering, crying or call¬ 
ing—all these things lift one into a sphere totally 
apart from the tawdry and tinsel world of com¬ 
petition and commercialism. 
I yield the above as an introductory to the true 
spirit of the Nature-lover; as a heralding word 
to what is to follow. My friend Fred believed 
it impossible that I could so form a foundation 
of comradeship with alien neighbors that I could, 
in actuality, draw them magnetically to my 
person. 
One day the storms came. All that night the 
great trees around the cabin rocked forth and 
back, and the hoary Solomon oaks groaned and 
muttered grieviously among themselves, con¬ 
versing in age-old runes. An early rain changed 
past midnight to sleet, and the rattling grains 
danced downward upon the roof and pattered 
upon the window panes. I felt within myself 
that we were on the edge of a cold spell and 
whether Indian Summer would be a thing to be 
henceforth awaited I did not know. Safe to say, 
it was not a possibility. I can remark that Indian 
Summer did come, but it occurred in November 
and lasted the bright length of two weeks, bring¬ 
ing with it a summerlike solemnity and tranquili- 
tude scarcely equalled in any of the season’s at- 
tendencies. But I did not spend that part of the 
season at Wood Hollow. I communed elsewhere. 
I had my suet for the birds and a mingling of 
seeds on a covered platform, for them and other 
visitors. They had already begun to come; a 
pair of chickadees in special had been inquisi¬ 
tively making themselves prominent for days. I 
hoped that on the morning I could begin my play 
of winning their friendship. In the morning fol¬ 
lowing the storm I was out and true enough, 
there were the birds. With skillfully rendered 
imitation of their, “dee-dee,” and a mass of 
lover-like, wordy renditions, and confidential as¬ 
surances I stood in the doorway uttering my plea 
of eternal friendship. Fred within, snickered; 1 
had told him that if he made a noise louder he 
would lose his life. Continued my talk, and 
many assurances, and more skillfully rendered 
“dee-dee’s” while in and around the suet the 
black-capped warblers pursued their incomparable 
feasting, now standing on end, now pecking 
away at the toothsome morsel with diligent 
beaks; and now and then uttering their wonder¬ 
fully cheery calls, and occasionally inquisi¬ 
tively listening to my maudlin imitations. First 
fasten your undisturbing presence upon the birds. 
Do it slowly, and with as painstaking care as in¬ 
genuity will allow. Move around without a dem¬ 
onstration suggesting violence; show by your ac¬ 
tions that you could not possibly entertain such 
a thought. And then as gradually will you make 
friends with the birds, the chickadees notably. 
Now having for some time followed the afore¬ 
mentioned process came the time to ascertain 
how close I could get without their becoming 
alarmed. All of a sudden, in an off-hand man¬ 
ner, so perhaps it would seem I considered to the 
birds, I found that there was something I had 
left at the tree that I needed. In an unobtrusive 
manner I sauntered that way, as though the least 
thing I noticed in the world was the birds above. 
Perhaps they understood, but without one blun- 
derous mishappening I reached the tree; for no 
reason in the world I inspected it, still paying no 
attention to the feathered folks above. I did not, 
in fact, look up. I retraced my steps to the door¬ 
way. The birds were still there hammering, and 
delving away. The first victory was won. I now 
continued my whistling, and mellow warbling 
and in the course of time made another unobtru¬ 
sive journey to the tree; another inspection and 
I again returned and was complimented upon my 
excellent progress by friend Fred, who smoked 
his black cigar in peaceful silence. Now in the 
course of time came other birds. Things of this 
nature travel far among the winged people. Their 
lives are hard at the best; what with their con¬ 
stant searching for a living among the tree mites 
and lice, and the eggs by the billions laid away in 
the bark awaiting the warm spring, or summer 
to hatch them into festering millions. Things 
travel far and fast. Came now on speedy wings 
a nuthatch. He inspected the seed supply, and 
went away from whence he first appeared return¬ 
ing some time later with another, evidently his 
mate. The chickadees, flew reluctantly away now 
and then, but swiftly returned. Before that day, 
Nothing like being safe 
♦ » 
There s nothing like a scared rahhit to test the 
accuracy and speed of the shot. But witn a good 
aim and R. H. in your gun, '’'Safety First is a 
useless motto for the fleetest game. 
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The powder burns and creates increasing force from breach to 
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Try R. H., and see the difference. Ask your dealer for it. 
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with any of the Standard Nitro Powders. 
ROBIN HOOD AMMUNITION CO. 
O Street, Swanton, Vt. 
