I have just been singing my morning song, and I wish you could have
heard it. I think you would have liked it.
I always sing very early in the morning. I sing because I am happy, and
the people like to hear me.
My home is near a small stream, where there are low woods and underbrush
along its banks.
There is an old dead tree there, and just before the sun is up I fly to
this tree.
I sit on one of the branches and sing for about half an hour. Then I fly
away to get my breakfast.
I am very fond of fruit. Bananas grow where I live, and I like them best
of all.
I eat insects, and sometimes I fly to the rice fields and swing on the
stalks and eat rice.
The people say I do much harm to the rice, but I do not see why it is
wrong for me to eat it, for I think there is enough for all.
I must go now and get my breakfast. If you ever come to see me I will
sing to you.
I will show you my wife, too. She looks just like me. Be sure to get up
very early. If you do not, you will be too late for my song.
* * *
"Birds, Birds! ye are beautiful things,
With your earth-treading feet and your cloud-cleaving wings.
Where shall man wander, and where shall he dwell--
Beautiful birds--that ye come not as well?
Ye have nests on the mountain, all rugged and stark,
Ye have nests in the forest, all tangled and dark;
Ye build and ye brood 'neath the cottagers' eaves,
And ye sleep on the sod, 'mid the bonnie green leaves;
Ye hide in the heather, ye lurk in the brake,
Ye dine in the sweet flags that shadow the lake;
Ye skim where the stream parts the orchard decked land,
Ye dance where the foam sweeps the desolate strand."
[Illustration: RED-RUMPED TANAGER.]