A Letter to Little Boys and Girls of the United States.
Is it cold where you live, little boys and girls? It is not where I
live. Don't you think my feathers grew in the bright sunshine?
My home is way down where the big oceans almost meet. The sun is almost
straight overhead every noon.
I live in the woods, way back where the trees are tall and thick. I
don't fly around much, but sit on a limb of a tree way up high.
Don't you think my red breast looks pretty among the green leaves?
When I see a fly or a berry I dart down after it. My long tail streams
out behind like four ribbons. I wish you could see me. My tail never
gets in the way.
Wouldn't you like to have me sit on your shoulder, little boy? You see
my tail would reach almost to the ground.
If you went out into the street with me on your shoulder, I would call
_whe-oo_, _whe-oo_, the way I do in the woods.
All the little boys and girls playing near would look around and say,
"What is that noise?" Then they would see you and me and run up fast and
say, "Where did you get that bird?"
The little girls would want to pull out my tail feathers to put around
their hats. You would not let them, would you?
I have a mate. I think she is very nice. Her tail is not so long as
mine. Would you like to see her too? She lays eggs every year, and sits
on them till little birds hatch out. They are just like us, but they
have to grow and get dressed in the pretty feathers like ours. They look
like little dumplings when they come out of the eggs.
But they are all right. They get very hungry and we carry them lots of
things to eat, so they can grow fast.
Your friend,
R. T.
[Illustration: RESPLENDENT TROGON.]