8 LHE AUDUBON -BYU CLE ie 
Mocking Bird Winters 1n 
Riverside 
BOUT the first of last November as we sat at breakfast, our 
attention was attracted by a tapping on the window pane. A 
grey bird sitting on the sill was pecking at the loosened putty 
about the glass. Mr. Willard and I said at once it looked like a mocking 
bird, but hardly believing our eyes, we looked it up and identified it in 
two bird books. 
Our cook, Ida Olson, took great interest in the bird and put out bread 
and water for it. For a while it did not seem to eat what was put out 
for it, but was seen eating rose haws and other wild berries. Finally, 
following the example of a flock of sparrows, he began to eat bread, and 
was drawn nearer and nearer the house until he came to take all his 
meals on the kitchen window sill. He liked particularly whole wheat 
bread with raisins in it, always picking the raisins out first. Ida put a 
clothes line rope across the kitchen porch close to the food window, and 
the mocking bird was to be seen sitting there hunched up and puffed 
out almost any time of day. In the early morning he liked to sit on a 
branch of ivy which crossed the dining-room window. The window was 
toward the east, and the sun shining on the glass back of him, apparently 
made that a warm spot. He made a very pretty silhouette against the 
window shade as we sat at breakfast. All winter he was to be found close 
to our back door and was therefore easily exhibited to our friends. One 
very cold morning Ida found him on the porch in a benumbed condition, 
and getting behind him drove him into the kitchen. We managed to get 
him into a canary cage, but he made such a commotion, we realized we 
could never keep him there. So after he was thoroughly warmed we let 
him out to take his chances again in the open. Late in March he began 
to sing but in rather a subdued way. He gave us many delightful con- 
certs before finally leaving us the second week in April. 
FraNncES Riptey WILLARD (Mrs. N. W.) 
‘Trailing Arbutus 
There is beauty in the forest 
When the trees are green and fair; 
There is beauty in the meadow 
When wild flowers scent the air; 
There is beauty in the sunlight 
And the soft blue beam above — 
Oh! the world is full of beauty 
When the heart is full of love. Daisy Hauser 
