It sounded part of the time as if
he were scratching aside the hay, much as a hen would have done. If
so, his two little front toes must have made sad work of it, with the
two hind ones always getting doubled up in the way. When I thumped
suddenly against the side of the barn, he hurled himself like a shot
at one of the holes, alighting just below it, and stuck there in a way
that reminded me of the chewed-paper balls that boys used to throw
against the blackboard in school. I could hear plainly the thump of
his little feet as he struck. With the same movement, and without
pausing an instant, he dived through headlong, aided by a spring from
his tail, much as a jumping jack goes over the head of his stick, only
much more rapidly. Hardly had he gone before another appeared, to go
through the same program.
Though much shyer than other birds of the farm, he often ventures up
close to the house and doorway in the early morning, before any one is
stirring. One spring morning I was awakened by a strange little
pattering sound, and, opening my eyes, was astonished to see one of
these birds on the sash of the open window within five feet of my
hand. Half closing my eyes, I kept very still and watched. Just in
front of him, on the bureau, was a stuffed golden-wing, with wings and
tail spread to show to best advantage the beautiful plumage.
Pages:
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160