Part 2

Did you ever see a mother cat wash herself? She wets her fur with her tongue. She washes her whole body that way. Then she washes her face with her wet paw. She uses her front paws for hands. She likes to keep herself clean. She wants the little kittens to be clean. So she washes them too. Mother cat’s fur is shiny. She is a very clean cat. She is cleaner than some children I know.

The Cat and the Rat

Once upon a time I had a cat. He was a big cat. One day he was in the house. I opened the door. The cat went out-of-doors. After a while, he wanted to come back into the house. He mewed and scratched at the door. So I opened the door and let him in. I was surprised because he had a rat in his mouth. The rat was already dead.

But the cat wanted us to see the rat that he had caught. I think the cat was proud of what he had done.

The Ways of a Cat

See the kitten, how she starts, Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!

_William Wordsworth_

The Cat and the Dog

One Sunday we saw a big cat climb up a tree. Just then a dog came by. The dog tried to get at the cat. The dog stood at the foot of the tree and barked.

The cat would not come down. The dog barked and barked. At last he became very tired. Then the dog went away.

The cat looked all around. She did not see the dog anywhere. So she climbed down the tree. Then the cat ran home.

How to Get Breakfast

Said the first little chick, With a queer little squirm, “I wish I could find A fat little worm.”

Said the next little chick, With an odd little shrug, “I wish I could find A fat little bug.”

Said the third little chick, With a shrill little squeal, “I wish I could find Some nice yellow meal.”

“See here,” called the hen, From the near garden patch, “If you want any breakfast Just come here and scratch!”

Our Chickens

We have a mother hen and many little chickens. We keep the chickens in a barn. When the chickens were very young they looked like fluffy balls. Every day they go out in the yard. The mother hen takes care of them.

We lost some of our chickens. Some were weak and died. The rats killed some of the chickens. The mother hen stepped on one. A board fell on one chicken and killed it.

But we still have many baby chickens. Mother and I feed the chickens. When the chickens were smaller, we gave them milk and oatmeal. Now we feed them corn. We throw the corn on the ground. When the chickens see us, they come running to the place where we are standing. They are always glad to get something to eat.

At night the little chicks cuddle under the mother hen’s wings.

The Clucking Hen

The clucking hen sat on her nest— The nest was in the hay, And warm and snug beneath her breast A dozen white eggs lay.

My Pet Hen

I have a pet hen. She seems to like to follow me around the yard. When she gets into the chicken coop, she jumps up on the nest in a wooden box.

She lays eggs for us. We eat some of the eggs, and sell some of them. This spring my pet hen had some baby chickens.

She took very good care of them. Once when I was feeding my little hen, she jumped upon my arm.

I was frightened. I screamed. I ran away as quickly as I could.

But now I am not afraid. I still feed my pet hen every day.

Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

A little boy got out of bed— ’Twas only six o’clock— And out the window poked his head And spied a crowing cock. The little boy said, “Mr. Bird, Pray tell me, who are you?” And all the answer that he heard Was, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

Grandmother’s Chickens

My grandmother has some chickens. One chicken looks so funny! That is because he has not many feathers.

Grandfather helps grandmother take care of her chickens.

Every day my grandfather goes out to hunt for eggs. Sometimes he finds eight eggs. He finds them in the chicken house.

When grandfather goes into the hen house, the hens become frightened.

They flap their wings, and fly to the other end of the house. My grandfather has a little pan that grandmother gave him. He puts water into this pan. The chickens drink the water. Every day grandfather goes to the corn-crib to get corn. He feeds the corn to the chickens. My little cousin likes to play with grandmother’s chickens. He tries to catch them. When he touches them, the chickens say “Cut-cut, cut-a-cut!”

A Queer Hen

In a city in Maine there lives a bus driver. This bus driver has a pet hen that is very tame.

When the hen hears the driver taking the bus out of the barn, she runs to the car.

When the driver takes his seat at the wheel, the hen flies up and sits beside him. As the driver goes from town to town, the hen stays with her kind friend. She stays with him all day long.

When the bus driver returns home at night, the hen flies down to the ground. Then she runs to the barnyard door, and has her supper with the other hens.

After her long automobile trip, this hen is very tired. So she goes to roost very early in the evening.

After a night’s rest, she is ready to start out again in the morning. Rain or shine, this hen never misses her automobile ride.

Now, is she not a queer hen?

Sing, Little Bird

Sing, little bird, When the skies are blue, Sing, for the world Has need of you. Sing when the skies are overcast, Sing when the rain is falling fast.

Sing, happy heart, When the sun is warm, Sing in the winter’s Coldest storm. Sing little songs, O heart so true, Sing, for the world has need of you.

Buttercup

Once I went to my grandmother’s house. My grandmother gave me a canary. His name was Buttercup. He was called Buttercup because his breast was so yellow.

This canary was a small bird. His feathers were black and yellow.

Buttercup was in a cage. When we went home my grandmother put paper around the cage. Then my brother carried the bird to our home.

Now we enjoy the bird very much indeed. We take the best care of him. We like to listen to his sweet song.

How We Care for Our Canary

We keep the canary in a cage. We place the cage near a window where there is much sunshine.

Every day we feed the canary. We put some cuttle bone between the bars in a corner of the cage.

We do not give our canary sweet or salty food.

We call our canary Dickie. Dickie is fond of lettuce. So we often give him lettuce. We feed our bird apples, too. Sometimes we give him crackers. We give bird seed to our canary. We put the seed into a dish. Then Dickie helps himself. He often spills the seed. Then my mother has to sweep it up. Of course we remember to give our bird fresh water to drink every day. Indeed, we try to take good care of our canary. Because we care for him, Dickie sings sweet songs for us.

The Little Bird

“Little bird! little bird! come to me! I have a green cage ready for thee.”

_Lydia Maria Child_

The Bird’s Bath

Our bird has a bath every day. We put fresh water into a little dish. The bird gets into the dish. The dish is his bath-tub.

First he puts his head into the water. He splashes around and has a good time in the water. After he has had a bath, he sits in the sun and dries himself.

When he is dry, he sits on the swing. He has a good time swinging himself. We like to watch him swing. He seems to enjoy himself so much.

Cleaning the Canary’s Cage

We clean the bird’s cage every day. First my mother takes down the cage. She lifts it off the hook. She carries the cage to the kitchen. The top is fastened to the bottom with hooks or catches. Mother unfastens the hooks. Then she lifts off the top. The canary hops upon the swing. Sometimes he flies around the room. But he always comes back to the cage. My mother removes the paper from the bottom of the cage. Next, she gets some newspaper. She cuts it to fit the cage.

She always puts fresh sand on the bottom of the cage. She cleans the bird’s dishes, too. She puts fresh water into one dish. She puts seed into the other dish. Then she hangs the cage on the hook near the window.

My Grandmother’s Canary

My grandmother has five pet canaries. She keeps them in cages. One day one of her birds became frightened. He flew up and struck his head against the top of the cage. Then he fell down dead. This bird was my grandmother’s best singer. She felt very sorry to lose him. She was sad when he died. Now she has another singer in his place. And grandmother is happy again.

Bird Trades

The swallow is a mason, And underneath the eaves He builds a nest, and plasters it With mud and hay and leaves.

Of all the weavers that I know, The oriole is the best; High on the branches of the tree She hangs her cosy nest.

The woodpecker is hard at work— A carpenter is he— And you may hear him hammering His nest high up a tree.

Some little birds are miners, Some build upon the ground, And busy little tailors, too, Among the birds are found.

Mother Robin

One spring day I was playing out-of-doors. I noticed a mother robin near by. She had two baby robins in a nest near our porch. The nest was up in a maple tree.

While I was watching, the mother bird flew to the fence. She picked up a worm. Then she flew back to the nest.

The baby birds opened their hungry mouths very wide. Mother Robin gave the worm to the baby robins. They ate the worm, and said “Peep, peep.”

The Bird with a Broken Wing

One day I was picking violets for mother. Two boys whom I knew passed by. One of the boys had something wrapped up in his handkerchief. I asked him what it was. He told me that it was a little sparrow. I looked at the sparrow carefully so as not to frighten him. I saw that his wing was broken. My friend carried the sparrow to his home. He showed the bird to his father. He asked if he could keep it.

His father said that he must take care of the bird if he kept it. The boy bound the broken wing with string and toothpicks.

The wing was soon as strong as ever. Then the little sparrow flew back to his friends.

The Sparrow

Glad to see you, little bird, ’Twas your plaintive chirp I heard. What did you intend to say? “Give me something this cold day?” That I will, and plenty, too. All these crumbs I saved for you.

A Bird House

My cousin made a bird house. I liked it so well that I asked him to make one for me. My cousin made a bird house for me, too. It took a long time to finish it. After it was finished, my cousin brought it to our home. Then my father put the house on the branch of a tree. One day I saw a wren fly into the house. Oh, how glad I was! Now many birds seem to enjoy the bird house.

The Woodpecker’s Nest

We have an old cherry tree in our back yard.

One day last spring we heard a pounding noise outside our kitchen window.

Then we noticed that a woodpecker was making holes in the tree with his strong bill. Tiny pieces of wood fell to the ground as the woodpecker kept boring. After a while there was a round hole in the cherry tree. This hole the woodpecker lined with grass. It became the nest which one day held three eggs. Still later, there were three baby birds in the nest. We liked to watch the woodpeckers feed the baby birds. One day the birds disappeared, and the nest was empty. Now I am hoping that next year there will be another nest in our cherry tree.

The Building of the Nest

They’ll come to the apple tree—Robin and all the rest— When the orchard branches are fair to see, In the snow of the blossoms dressed; And the prettiest thing in the world will be The building of the nest.

How We Help the Birds

In the winter time it is very cold. The snow often covers the ground. Then it is very hard for the birds to find food.

We can help the winter birds by giving them crumbs. It is fun to do this. Sometimes we may throw crumbs on the sidewalk.

At other times we put them on the window sill. The birds always find the crumbs. You may be sure that they eat them, too.

In the summer time it is often hot and dry. The birds are warm and thirsty.

So, to help them we put water into a pan. Then the birds find water to drink. Sometimes they bathe in the water. They splash around and have a good time.

We can help the birds both in summer and in winter. In winter we should give the birds some crumbs to eat. In summer we should give them water.

Carrier Pigeons

I think these birds are called carrier pigeons because they carry letters. They carry letters and small parcels from place to place. The letters or parcels are tied under the pigeon’s wing.

This pigeon loves its own home. It always will come back to its own home. It flies very high, and comes back home in a straight line.

During the World War, the army kept carrier pigeons. These carrier pigeons were used to carry messages.

The Pigeons

The sun is in the sky, The pigeons homeward fly.

The Swallow

Fly away, fly away over the sea, Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done; Come again, come again, come back to me, Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.

_Christina G. Rossetti_

A Song

Ding dong! ding dong! I’ll sing you a song. ’Tis about a little bird. He sat on a tree, And he sang to me, And I never said a word.

_Eliza Lee Follen_

Why Some Birds Hop and Others Walk

A little boy said to a little bird, “Stop, And tell me the reason you go with a hop. Why don’t you walk, as boys do, and men, One foot at a time, like a dove or a hen?”

“Use your eyes, little boy; watch closely and see What little birds hop, both feet, just like me, And what little birds walk like the duck and the hen; And when you know that you’ll know more than some men.

“Every bird that can scratch in the dirt can walk; Every bird that can wade in the water can walk; Every bird that has claws to catch prey with can walk, One foot at a time—that is why they can walk.

“But most little birds that can sing you a song Are so small that their legs are not very strong To scratch with, or wade with, or catch things—that’s why They hop with both feet. Little boy, good-by!”

Ducks on a Farm

One day last summer, we visited a farm. We stayed all night.

Toward evening, we saw some ducks in the barnyard. They walked as if they were in a parade.

They looked as if they were playing “Stump the leader.” When they walked, they waddled in such a funny way.

I laughed when I saw them. They said “Quack, quack!”

Other ducks were swimming in a pond. The ducks seemed to like to swim. They said “Quack, quack,” over and over again. I wish I could swim in the lake as well as ducks swim in the pond.

Quack, Quack

“Quack, quack!” says the duck, “Was there ever such good luck! Spring has cleared the pond of ice, And the day is warm and nice, Just as I and Goodman Drake Thought we’d like a swim to take.”

Polly

Polly is a parrot. She has a crooked beak and bright colored feathers. Polly likes to scream. She eats crackers. She says, “Polly wants a cracker!” For Polly can talk.

She can say many things. Polly says the same things that we do. She mocks us.

If we say kind words, Polly says kind words.

If we say cross words, Polly says cross words. So we must be careful how we speak. When the people pass, Polly says “Hello!”

Sometimes Polly calls “Mamma!” She says “Good-by,” too. Polly also says “Naughty boy.” When I am naughty, mother says that.

Polly mocks mother and says it too. Polly says, “Go to bed.”

Polly can say “Meow,” so that it sounds like the cat.

Polly calls the dog too. She calls, “Sport, come here!” We talk to Polly and Polly talks to us. Indeed Polly seems like a real playmate.

Doves

Doves are such gentle birds that we all love them. They say “Coo, coo.”

Some doves are white. Other doves are bluish-gray.

Once I had a gray dove. One day my sister and I went out on the back porch to clean some vegetables. The dove flew up on my head.

My uncle’s doves flew into the barn through the open door. They made their nest up in the hayloft. Sometimes they flew over the meadows. They flew far away. But they always came back.

The Turtle Doves’ Nest

High in the pine tree, The little turtle-dove Made a little nursery To please her little love. “Coo,” said the turtle-dove, “Coo,” said she, In the long shady branches Of the dark pine tree.

Our Dove

One day my mother saw a dove upon the porch. The dove was not at all afraid. It was so tame that mother thought this dove belonged to some one. But no one claimed it. My mother took the dove into our house. At first she put it into a basket. Later she bought a cage for it. Now we keep the bird in a cage. Sometimes we let the dove out of the cage. Then we have a hard time catching it. I like this dove.

A Turkey Story

I went to pay my friend a visit. My friend lived on a farm. Her mother had some turkeys. She was keeping them for Thanksgiving Day. I tried to feed the turkeys. When they saw me, they said “Gobble, gobble!”

One turkey was a cross gobbler. He was such a large turkey that when I saw him, I said, “Oh, what a big bird!” Once this big fat gobbler chased me. I was frightened and ran as fast as I could.

The Turkey Gobbler

Have you seen the turkey gobbler, With his loud, important air, As he struts about the barnyard Like a king without a care?

Dobbin

Old Dobbin lives in grandpa’s barn The whole long winter through, But when the summer comes again, He has much work to do.

And so he gets up while it’s dark, And eats a little hay. Before I am awake at all, He’s ready for the day.

He never says he’d like to rest, And I never saw him frown; It’s “Dobbin here” and “Dobbin there”— He trudges up and down.

A little boy, when summer comes, May run, and shout, and play, But Dobbin works from morn till night, Each sunny, summer day.

A Gentle Horse

I know a horse that lives on a farm. He is an old horse, but he still works.

He sometimes pulls the plow. I am a little boy only seven years old. But this horse lets me ride upon his back.

One day I rode across the fields. One time a little girl rode on this horse’s back. She fell off, but she didn’t get hurt. She was just frightened.

The horse was so good that he stopped. He didn’t move an inch. He was ever so still.

Was he not a sensible horse?

Horses

Many horses live on farms where they get plenty of grass and hay to eat.

Some horses work very hard. They work in the fields. They pull plows and wagons and hayracks.

At night, they stay in the stables. In the city, horses pull coal, ice and milk wagons.

The milk wagon horses learn to wait for their drivers. While the driver delivers the milk, his horse stands still.

Horses are out in all kinds of weather. Boys and girls, and men and women sometimes go riding on horses they rent for an hour or more.

Trained horses can jump over poles. Some horses pull circus wagons.

A long time ago, horses used to pull street cars. In the city, we don’t see many horses any more.

Automobiles have taken the place of horses. But still, horses are useful and deserve good care.

My Pony

My pony has four curving hoofs so tiny and so trim, You’d be surprised to see how fast they trot along with him. He has a flowing mane and tail, a shining coat of hair, And when I get upon his back, he takes me everywhere. He loves to eat the sugar that I bring him in my hand, He loves to trot and gallop down the street at my command. He loves to rub his nose against my shoulder, for you see, I love my pony dearly and I know that he loves me.

_Alice C. D. Riley from Lilts and Lyrics Used by permission of Clayton F. Summy Co._

My Cousin’s Pony

My cousin has a pet pony. He is a Shetland pony. His name is Teddy. My cousin lives near Camp Grant and goes to a country school. He lives a long way from the school.

So, instead of walking, he hitches his pony to a cart that his father made for him.

This cart looks like a racing cart. My cousin rides to school every day.

One Saturday, he drove over to our home. We gave the pony some oats in a sack. We laughed when the pony spilled the oats.

My cousin likes his pony very much. He will not sell him. He always tries to give Teddy the best of care.

Jean’s Riding Horse

Jean is eighteen years old and lives on a large farm. She is my cousin, and she owns a fine riding horse. She calls her horse Beauty. Beauty has white legs, a white spot on his head and another white spot near his tail. One August day Jean dressed in a pretty riding suit and went for a ride. When she came home, I was standing near the gate. I saw Jean ride toward the barn.

When she stopped a moment, the horse helped himself to some grass from the lawn. But he had time for just a mouthful. For as soon as he started to eat Jean got off the horse and led him to the barn.

I think Beauty is like some children. He gets so hungry that he can’t wait for his dinner.

“A Farmer Went Trotting”

A farmer went trotting upon his gray mare, With his daughter behind him, so rosy and fair. A raven cried croak! and they all tumbled down— The mare broke her knees, and the farmer his crown.

The Rabbits

Between the hill and the brook, ook, ook, Two rabbits sat in the sun, O! And then they ate the green, green grass, Till all the grass was gone, O!

And when they had eaten enough, nough, nough, They sat down to have a talk, O! When there came a man with a gun, un, un, And fired at them over the walk, O!

But when they found they were sound, ound, ound, Nor hurt by the gun, un, un, O! They picked themselves up from the ground, ound, ound, And scampered away like fun, O!

Rabbits