The Washington times., 1906-01-28

into our best homes, the
hills and dales and forest
wilds of Dope Springs abound in
game. Native and alien Nimrods,
who know not what fear is, STAY the
duck, the red fox, and the fierce and
treacherous flying squirrel that fits
from branch 10 branch. Likewise
the bibulous robin red breast gets
in wrong. He comes down from the
trapped North in thirsty fiocks 20
winter here in q potpie with top
crust only.
1t fills me with sorrow, shame,
and anguish TO learn about the booty
conduct of the robin at home he
is a model of propriety and the re-
sponsible head of a large family-a
real bird in every sense Of the word.
But on his travels the pilgrim robin
cuts loose from all restraint and
plunges into series of debauches
that ends in death, ignominy and
pie. In some respects the robin is
almost human Just how reckless
that bird can be on his travels was
revealed 10 me by the eTudite Mr..
Tony Fligg. the Dope Springs oracle,
philosopher and wharf TeDaireT
We were resting one Saturday
afternoon, Tony and /, in front of
the pOstoff1ce. when a negro boy
passed along carrying one rusty gun
IL i L. Z. Inc
from a string threaded through the
upper bills. The boy stopped and Of
fered to sell me a mess of robins
at cents each. Nothing doing. l
would as soon think Of eating fried
canary birds or parrots ca the perch.
DO you go cunning Tor robins in
these parts?' asked Mr. Fiigg
IF the bird rs sober We shoots
him, but most general he gets drunk,
falls out of the tree and breaks his
fool neck. Saves lots of ammunition.
too" Mr. Fligg added. as an item
of interest to hunters of easy game.
But what makes the robin intoxi-
Gated? Where does he procure the
cup that cheers and inebriaJes p"
China berries puts the robin
under the tree with his toes a-stick-
ing up" said Mr. Fligg. "and il shore
is a sad sight to them that loves the
beauties of nature. A soused robin
is a fearful scene. Look not upon the
China berry when it is yaller and full
of tlice, for At the last it b eth like
a gin fizz and there amt no bTomo-
settler"
Gould you show me some of those
loaded berries?" ! asked, beginning
to absorb Mr.. Fligg's gloomy train
OF thought.
Easy enough. The robin can
abate his thirst in this town to beat
the band. Jest you come along"
Mr. Fligg tOwed me around the
corner and pointed TO a clump of
low. squatty trees in a dooryard. The
foliage had departed from the limbs,
at the end of which hung great clus-
ties of yellow. tight-skinned berries
the size of small marbles. One
bleary robin. whose feathers were
Tuftied he wrong way, sat huddled
in the ,ork of a tree, blinking dis
mally at the winter landscape.
There you are said Mr. Fligg.
in hollow accents. Them berries
lures the bright harbinger of spring
10 his doom, which doom is the
drunkard's grave. Look at that fell
Ter in the crotch of the tree. Isn't
he bird? Reminds me of some city
bum hanging round in the morning
to sweep out the saloon for a eve
opener We don't have the robins
Ike we used TO. The demon berry
has killed 'em all off"
What is there that dulls the
manly instinct in the bosom of the
robin? Why should he put a berry
into his mouth to steal away his
dOpe?" | asked.
Them berries is full of Juice" Mr..
Fligg explained. They hang on the
trees all winter and ferment. I
reckon them berries fools a bird the
same as hard cider does a man. The
fermented juice makes the robin
foolish and tipsy. and he acts lust
scandalous. After the first round.
the berryeater wakes up with a head
on him aTnd fuzzy tongue like a
Turkish rug, and he hits up The ber-
ries again TO drownd his gries and
remOrse, If any. The pace soon kills
the bird, If the niggeTs don't knock
him in the head for potpie. I've ct
robins in my time, but that time
has passed. My motto is not TO en-
courage no form Of vice.
When the big focks used to eolae
here the town sounded worse than
Fourth of July. Christmas, and cleo
ton day all rolled into one, with a
couple of dog fights on the side. Next