THE DOCTOR'S WONDER ROOM
Nathaniel and Theodora, who were called Nat and Dodo for short, were
standing in the hallway outside Dr. Hunter's door, engaged in a very
lively argument.
"I say birds are animals," blustered Nat, pounding his fists together
after a fashion of his own.
"And I'm as sure as anything that they _can't_ be," persisted Dodo,
"because they have feathers, and nothing else has."
"That doesn't prove anything. Everything that lives and grows is either
an animal or a vegetable. Do you think that birds grow like potatoes and
are dug out of the ground, or come off trees like apples?" And Nat gave
himself an air of great wisdom, such as brothers are apt to wear when
they are in the fifth reader, and their sisters are only in the third.
"But isn't there anything besides animals and vegetables that they might
be? Perhaps they are minerals," said Dodo, brightening up as she thought
of the word.
"Oh! oh! what a stupid you are, Dodo! Minerals! Why those are rocks and
such things, that can't move and don't live." Nat laughed rather rudely,
and, putting his hands in his pockets, began to whistle.
"I think you might tell me _what_ kind of an animal a bird is, and why
it has feathers and can fly, instead of laughing," said Dodo in a shaky
voice; for her feelings were very tender and she remembered too late
what minerals are.
"Yes, tell her, Nat," said Olive, who came through the hall just then.
"Are you holding your knowledge tight in your pockets, or whistling to
keep from telling it?"
Nat scowled a minute and then said frankly, for every one was frank with
Olive, "I really don't know what sort of an animal a bird is, though I'm
sure it _is_ an animal. Don't you think Uncle Roy will tell us?"
"I'm sure he will be glad to, if he is not very busy, and he is seldom
too busy to talk of birds. He is writing a book now of all the things he
knows about them. Knock on the door, Dodo."
"I'm afraid to," said Dodo, clasping her hands behind her. "Mammy says
that room is _full_ of birds, and that we must never go in there.
Suppose when the door opens they should get out and fly away?"
"Mammy was right in telling you not to go in without asking, because
there are a great many books and papers there that father values, and
you might upset them. But the birds that are there are not alive. They
are dead birds that father has collected from all parts of
America--stuffed birds, such as you have seen in the glass cases in the
Museum."
"But, Cousin Olive," said Nat in astonishment, "if Uncle Roy has shot
enough birds to fill a big room, why won't he let me pop at a few with
my shooter?"
"You must ask him why yourself, Nat. Knock again, Dodo. Father, may we
come in? The children are here, with pockets full of questions;" and
Olive opened the door of the study, which Dodo named "the wonder room"
that very day.
It was a very long room on the southwest side of the house. The sun
streamed in through three wide windows, and at one end there was a deep
fireplace with brass andirons upon which some logs smouldered, for
though it was a mild May day the great room felt cool. Around the room
were deep cases with glass doors, from which peeped all kinds and sizes
of birds, while between the tops of the cases and the ceiling the spaces
were filled by colored bird pictures. The Doctor's desk stood in front
of one window, heaped with papers and books; down the middle of the room
were low book-cases standing back to back, and where these ended,
before the hearth, was a high-backed settle, almost as long as a bed.
The children stood still for a minute, speechless with surprise and
delight. Then Dodo made a rush for the Doctor's chair, and hugging him
round the neck, cried, "Dear Uncle Roy, will you please let us stay in
here a little while, so that we can learn what sort of animals birds
are, and all about them? And will you tell Nat why you let yourself
shoot birds when you won't let him?" Here Dodo stopped, both for lack of
breath and because she knew that her sentences were mixing themselves
dreadfully.
"So you have been here two whole days without finding me out," said the
Doctor, seating Dodo comfortably on his knee. "Aren't you afraid of the
old ogre who keeps so many birds prisoners in his den, and bewitches
them so that they sit quite still and never even try to fly? You want
to know about birds, do you, Miss Dodo, and Nat feels grieved because I
won't let him pop at our feathered neighbors that live in the orchard?
Oh, yes, my boy, I know all about it, you see; Cousin Olive has been
telling tales. Come round here where I can see you. I can answer your
question more easily than I can Dodo's. Don't look ashamed, for it is
perfectly natural that you should like to pop at birds until you learn
to understand the reasons why you should not. It was because you two
youngsters have seen so little of Nature and the things that creep and
crawl and fly, that I begged you from your parents for a time.
"House People are apt to grow selfish and cruel, thinking they are the
only people upon the earth, unless they can sometimes visit the homes of
the Beast and Bird Brotherhood, and see that these can also love and
suffer and work like themselves.
"Now, my boy, before we begin to learn about the birds I will partly
answer your question, and you will be able to answer it yourself before
summer is over. Animal life should never be taken except for some good
purpose. Birds are killed by scientists that their structure and uses
may be studied--just as doctors must examine human bodies. But if you
kill a bird, of what use is its dead body to you?"
"I would like to see if I could hit it, and then--I--guess," hesitating,
"I could find out its name better if I had it in my hand."
"Ah, Nat, my lad, I thought so; _first_ to see if you can hit it, and
_perhaps_ because you want to know the bird's name. Did you ever think
of trying to cut off one of your fingers with your jack-knife, to see
if you could do it, or how it is made?"
"Why, no, uncle, it would hurt, and I couldn't put it on again, and it
wouldn't do me any good anyway, for I could find out about it by asking
a doctor, without hurting myself."
"Yes, that is right; and for the present you can learn enough about
birds without shooting them yourself, and if you learn your lesson well
you will never shoot a song-bird."
"May we see the book you are writing, Uncle Roy, and learn all about the
birds out of it?"
"It is written in words too long and difficult for you to understand.
Here is a page on the desk--see if you can read it."
Nat stood by the Doctor's chair, but the longer he looked at the page
the more puzzled he became, and at last he said, "I think, if you
please, I'd rather have a book with only the birds' plain American
names." Then he spelled out slowly, "C-y-a-n-o-c-i-t-t-a
c-r-i-s-t-a-t-a. Why, that's Latin, but it only means Blue Jay."
"Couldn't you write a _little_ book for us, uncle--just a common little
book, all in plain words?" pleaded Dodo. "There's plenty of paper here,
and of course the know-how is all in your head; because Olive says you
know about every bird that lives in our America--and then you need not
put them quite all in our book."
"Bless your innocent heart! How many different kinds of birds do you
think there are in 'our America,' my little Yankee?" "More than a
hundred, I guess," said Dodo after a long pause.
"Nearly a thousand, my lady!"
"A thousand! I think we couldn't remember so many. Does Olive know about
'nearly a thousand'?"
"No, nor about a quarter of them, Dodo. There are a great many birds
that are rare or curious, but are not very interesting to people like
you and me," said Olive.
"Suppose you make us a little book about some of the very nicest
American birds," put in Nat, who had been looking at the row of stuffed
birds in one of the cases, and began to feel a real interest in knowing
their names and something about them. "Oh, Uncle Roy! Here's a Robin.
See! Dodo, see! I knew it in a minute; it's like meeting a fellow you
know;" and Nat pranced about while the Doctor laughed as if he was well
pleased.
"Now, children," said he, "I have an hour's more work this morning, and
then we will talk over this bird matter. Here is a little blank book,
and a pencil for each of you. Go down in the orchard, and when you find
a bird, write in the book how it looks to you. So--size, color of head,
throat, breast, back, tail, and wings--that will be enough for once; but
try to remember, also, how it sings. You had better help them a bit to
begin with, daughter," he continued, turning to Olive, who went as
gladly as if she were only ten years old like Nat, instead of being
seventeen, and nearly as tall as her father, with skirts that covered
her boot tops.