We used to play a great deal about the pasture fence. It was a high rail
fence and we used to take a little pole in both hands as a balancing
pole, and run along on the top. Carefully we balanced ourselves as we
ran! But finally we would tip first one way and then the other, and
then, with a little laughing scream, off we’d topple!
Sometimes we would put a board through the fence and have a fine time at
“seesaw.” Up one of us would go, high in the air, and down would go the
other with a thud!
We used to play that the pasture fence was a huge cupboard. Each rail
was a shelf. Many of those rail-shelves were loaded down with bits of
broken dishes, shining pebbles, bits of green moss that we called
“pincushions,” and white clam-shells full of strawberries, or
raspberries, or little dark juicy choke-cherries. The contents of the
clam-shells were for the birds. If we found a clam-shell lying on the
ground, we believed with all our little hearts that a little winged
creature had been fed from our cupboard.
Sometimes we would carry on a thriving millinery store out at the
pasture fence. We would make queer little bonnets out of birch-bark.
Then we would sew wildflowers on the bonnets and lay them on the rails
of the fence for sale. Such a number of those funny little bonnets as
would be on exhibition on our rail-counters!
One of the big upright posts of our rail fence was hollow a little way
down. One day we found on the ground a nest full of birdlings; one of
them was dead, and a little green snake had almost reached the nest. The
mother-bird was flying about crying pitifully. I snatched the nest away
and carried it O, so carefully to the pasture fence and put it down in
the hollow of the fence-post. Then we went a bit away and waited. Pretty
soon there was a little rush of wings; and soon the mother-bird settled
down in that hollow post just as cunning as could be. And that dear
little family staid in that hollow post until the baby-birds grew up and
flew away.
_Percia V. White._