When I had found a bluebird's nest in the cavity of a stump or a
tree, I used to try to capture the mother bird by approaching
silently and clapping my hand over the hole; in this I sometimes
succeeded, though, of course, I never harmed the bird. I used to
capture song sparrows in a similar way, by clapping my hat over
the nest in the side of the bank along the road.
I can see that I was early drawn to other forms of wild life, for
I distinctly remember when a small urchin prying into the private
affairs of the "peepers" in the marshes in early spring, sitting
still a long time on a log in their midst, trying to spy out and
catch them in the act of peeping. And this I succeeded in doing,
discovering one piping from the top of a bulrush, to which he clung
like a sailor to a mast; I finally allayed the fears of one I had
captured till he sat in the palm of my hand and piped--a feat I
have never been able to repeat since.
I studied the ways of the bumblebees also, and had names of my
own for all the different kinds. One summer I made it a point
to collect bumblebee honey, and I must have gathered a couple of
pounds. I found it very palatable, though the combs were often
infested with parasites. The small red-banded bumblebees that
lived in large colonies in holes in the ground afforded me the
largest yields.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131