38 THE AUDUBON VBULUEE Dia 

A torn piece of a bright red rubber bathing cap happened to lie on 
the grass, wet and shiny from the water. One bird would take hold of 
it and start to run, another some ten feet away would run and grab it, 
other birds would follow suit, and the big war commenced. They 
would finally tire of it, but another relay would seize it and have their 
share of fun. 
Some were acrobatic in their frolic. A large beech tree with slender, 
pendulous branches within a foot of the ground, stood near them. The 
birds would give flying jumps and light on the tips, which, bending with 
their weight, brought them to the ground. The branches had hardly 
resumed their natural position before they were on them again. 
They seemed to enjoy themselves so much that I wished I was a 
bird, tail, feathers and all. 
At the feeding table was a mother grackle feeding its noisy child, 
who, like Oliver Twist, was always crying for more. The mother 
gt rackle would eat four or five grains of chicken feed and then give the 
babe one grain, returning to her four or five grains before her offspring 
received its single portion. She was evidently teaching her young that 
eating slowly aids digestion. 
—WIL.LIAM C. Ecan. 
A Good Samaritan 
©> a cold night in late fall, the wind was howling about the house 
saying, ‘“Winter is coming;” but we were all tucked snugly in 
bed and thought not of the poor, out-of-door children who were not 
prepared for the early cold weather. 
When I awoke the next morning, the ground was lightly covered 
with snow. I started out for a walk to enjoy the fresh cool air, when, 
not far from the house, I heard the peep of a bird; and, going in that 
direction, I found a Robin half frozen, lying in the snow. I picked him 
up and carried him to the house where he was placed in a basket in some 
soft wool. After a few moments he was able to move about and soon 
began to eat the crumbs which were placed near. He lived in the house 
with us all winter; but when spring came and his relatives returned from 
the South, my Robin was eager to join them and soon disappeared with 
the rest of the birds. I saw nothing more of him until one day in the 
fall; while standing on the porch I heard a flutter of wings near, and 
turning saw my Robin, who alighted on my shoulder for several minutes 
for a farewell visit. He soon left for the South with the other birds. 
This happened six years ago; but every spring my Robin comes back 
and I meet him on the porch and feed him from my hand. 
—ALICE ZARECK, 
1522 sth Street, Milwaukee, Wisconsin 
