Birds and Nature, Vol. 12 No. 5 [December 1902]. Various

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      So it happened at one time that we were the proud possessors of twenty-five different kinds of birds, animals and reptiles and the envy of all the children for blocks around.

      It is so long now since the time of which I write that I may not be able to recall them all, but I give them as I remember them and by their rank – for they had rank as well as names, the highest in intelligence always going first – as they did at our funerals; for when any one of the little colony died we would give it a burial in accordance with its station in life.

      First beside the grave would stand Rex, my beautiful dog, whose knowledge was so great it seemed almost human; then would come “Daisy,” Harvey’s little Mexican pony; then “Lorita,” the parrot, whose intelligence was really remarkable; after her came “Jackie,” the monkey, and so on down. The cat, the crow, with his one white tail feather; then the smaller birds; two love-birds, a brown thrush, a blue jay and the canary. Three baby foxes followed the birds and then came the squirrels, gray, red, and flying squirrels; next to these stood the rabbits, a dozen or more of all kinds and colors: Belgian hares, pure yellows, angoras, whites and blacks, they came, a motley crew. The weasel and muskrat were next, and now the reptiles were beginning; the turtles, a hellbender and the snakes; black snakes, garter snakes, green snakes, a puffing adder and last of all came two boa constrictors.

      I have reserved a special place for my own dear, stupid, little hedge hog, Billy. It used to grieve me to always see poor Billy straggling off at the end of the animals – ahead of the reptiles, to be sure – a pathetic little figure of stupidity, but Harvey insisted he deserved no better place. Possibly it was because he seemed so lonely and despised by the others, but at any rate, Billy was an especial pet of mine, and in order to disprove Harvey’s statement that, “it was impossible to teach it anything,” I spent much time and pains on Billy, and at last succeeded in teaching him to utter a little grunt when I would scratch his back and ask, “Want your supper, Billy?” But the thing that made me the proudest was when he at last could go up stairs. It was nearly three years before Billy could accomplish the entire flight, and even then it was a long and weary pilgrimage; but the patience I had expended upon him had not been in vain. It was comical to watch his efforts – the little short forelegs trying to reach up to the next stair, where he knew a lump of sugar would be his reward.

      But I am digressing. One day father and mother having gone out of town to a funeral, we children were left to ourselves. It was an opportunity not to be neglected, and our brains were at work trying to plan some new game, when Harvey arrived in our midst triumphantly waving a huge sheet of paper – a “bill-poster” he called it – upon which, in large letters, were the headlines, “Grand Circus,” and then followed an account of the animals that would take part and the tricks they would perform. Harvey assigned us our posts – he himself being ring-master, by right of his seniority and having thought of the game. Alice was the “fat lady,” while I, Paul, being the youngest, was nothing but a “feeder of animals” and tent shifter.

      Under the direction of the Circus Master we assembled the menagerie in cages, or loose as the case might be, up in Mother’s bed-room. It took a good deal of time to get them all together. Polly was of a roving disposition and had to be coaxed down from the top of a tall tree, where she had perched, a square or so away; the crow was up on the roof; the rabbits and hares were scampering all over the garden – in fact, nothing but the caged animals seemed to be at hand. But the task was finally accomplished and all were ranged around the room waiting for Harvey, who had disappeared mysteriously some little time before.

      Suddenly there was a most terrific clatter and noise, coming ever nearer and nearer. We looked at each other open-mouthed with surprise, when, with a flourish of lariat and a wild Indian war-whoop, that rose above the deafening noise, in dashed Harvey upon “Daisy,” a triumphant figure – having accomplished the difficult feat of making the pony carry him up stairs. He dismounted with a jump. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, “the first act on the programme will be by this wonderful horse – Daisy, down on your haunches!” The lariat swept the air in true ring-master fashion, and Daisy obediently sat back on her haunches.

      “Shake hands, Daisy.”

      The hoof came up – but here Rex interfered. He realized the pony had no business there and felt the responsibility which rested upon him. Good dog that he was, he started toward her, barking sharply, as though to say, “Go away – you know you have no business here.”

      Then, as if his bark had been a signal, all the other animals lifted up their voices, and for a while it was pandemonium let loose – screeches from Polly, calls of “Mamma” from the crow (which it could say as plainly as any parrot, though its tongue had never been slit), grunts and squeals mingled in utter confusion. In the midst of it all who should walk in but Uncle Charles.

      Now, we all knew that Uncle was not disposed to pass over lightly even the least of our offenses, and what he would say, and what was more, do now, we dared not think. But Harvey was equal to the occasion. He knew Uncle’s weak point, and went towards him nonchalantly swinging the snakes who stuck out their heads as they swayed back and forth.

      Now, to us children the snakes were just as nice and pretty as any of the animals, but they were quite the opposite to Uncle Charles. The great, writhing things, swaying to and fro as they twisted in Harvey’s hands and stuck out their heads, in which the eyes dully gleamed, filled him with loathing and disgust, not unmixed with terror.

      All that Uncle Charles had meant to say vanished from his mind as he saw Harvey advancing upon him with the boa-constrictors, and he began to retreat more and more rapidly, but with ever decreasing dignity. Harvey still pursued.

      “Why, Uncle,” we heard him say, “what’s the matter?” There was no response – Uncle Charles had gone home. But the circus was broken up.

      I think it is better to draw a veil over the consequences of our circus. No circus is complete without a side-show – and ours was no exception. We never had another one – at least not in mother’s room.

Paul Brenton Eliot.

      THE GRAY-CROWNED LEUCOSTICTE

      (Leucosticte tephrocotis.)

      The Gray-crowned Leucosticte or Gray-crowned Rosy Finch, as it is often called, is a resident of the interior of British America during the warmer months. In the winter it passes southward, frequenting the Rocky Mountain region of the United States, where it is quite common on the eastern slopes. So far as known, within the border of the United States, it only nests in the Sierra Nevada in California. While on the slopes of the mountains this Finch is usually seen in flocks. During the most severe weather it will frequent settled districts, becoming quite tame, and it has been known to seek the sheltering cover of the nests of cliff swallows under the eaves of buildings. When in the fields it is a restless bird and quite shy.

      Dr. R. W. Shufeldt, while stationed at Fort Fetterman, Wyoming, had an excellent opportunity to study the habits of this handsome bird. He captured eight, including both males and females, which he placed in a cage especially prepared for them. “In a few days they not only became accustomed to their quarters, but apparently thoroughly satisfied and happy. Flocks of their companions passing over were certain to be called down, to alight on the fences, the ground, and in fact, everything in the neighborhood of the cage, to even the cage itself.” The birds were given canary and flax seeds, cracked wheat and finally lettuce and other tender leaves, all of which they seemed to relish. Dr. Shufeldt also says:

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