fletd: Pages), UE BONG BO: Lb Belin 17 
A True Bird Tale 
O HAVE areal live chickadee come and live in the school room with 
me and my children, was the delightful experience I had one whole 
day in October. Donald had found him that morning, asleep as he said, 
at the foot of a tree. “‘I just picked him up, cuddled him warm in my 
hand and brought him to you.”’ I looked the bird over but could find 
nothing the matter with him, so I perched him on a little jar of twigs on 
my desk. He stretched himself a bit, looked inquiringly around, then 
murmured a happy little song to himself. Suddenly he flew over to 
where the children and I were sitting on the little green chairs at a 
reading lesson, perched on my shoulder and ‘“‘Dee-deed” with all his 
might, and then fluttered from book to book. 
The children fairly held their breath for fear of frightening him. 
Phyllis offered him a cookie, which he pecked at daintily. Flo remem- 
bered the chickadee fare on the lunch counter at the window and fed 
him bits of suet and nut meats. 
We talked about him, sang about him and wrote about him. We 
carried him down to a music appreciation lesson where he outdid the 
victrola. He liked best sitting on the finger of my left hand, and being 
fed dainty morsels of hard-boiled egg that I had brought in my lunch. 
Through the whole hour he stayed with me, he either perched on my 
shoulder or on the back of my chair. He posed with me several times as 
if having his picture taken was an everyday affair. 
In the afternoon while the little folks were busy cutting, our dear 
little friend flew among them, sometimes alighting on the arm or knee 
and even perching on Mary Jane’s pencil while she carried him off to 
show the children in the next room. Dick had a big red apple in his 
desk which seemed to attract him. With lifted head, but shaky feet, he 
whistled sweetly for us. How we laughed over him, loved him and wished 
that he might stay “‘forever.”” But as night drew near, and we opened 
wide our door, he flew—strong once again—1into the blue. 
“Good-bye, good-bye, little bird, come back again,” the children 
called, ““we can never forget you.” 
And the memory of that visit is still sweet, the happiest and fullest 
day of our lives. 
GENEVIEVE ZIMMER, 
Grant School, Moline, Illinois. 
