The San Francisco call., 1907-06-09

Sl the little fCrred and tcathereo
people that gather there, Golden
Gate park is at sts best There IS
fragrance now TO the new born To-
iiage OF each tree and shrub that van
ishes when fostering sun warmth
brings maturity and everywhere one
hears the song Of birds.
On each bright day the park Is
thronged. Great automobiles slide down
The smooth, hard roads with noisy,
squaIIing horns. The ring ot iron shod
hoo1s resounds. and on each path and
n each tiny byway men and msideas
wander. as man and maid have wan
dere6. wooing, since the world began
But there are those OF US who shun
The paths and drives and delve into the
thicketz. listening 20 the songs that
swell Up like a choir celestial from
putfed out feathered threats. For all
the birds ere mating now and busy
singing love songs and building nests
ana Matching babies out. and IN the
gladness OF the time they sing their
best
There is no finer natural park IN all
the world than Golden Gate. Its vistaS
are superb The sweep OF shrub lined
road that leads TO where the surf beats
on the shore surrenders only to q sea
scape where the sun gIints on some tiny
of shore sail, and CT beyond is China.
where the west is east. Deep down IN
Tiny valleys nestle tiny ponds High
up on sandy hills climb tangled vines.
and art and nature meet upon q COM
mon ground. In places all is stereo-
typed. Driveways and paths laid out on
Hogarth's lines OF beauty maze to and
FRO between syInmetricaliy spaced rows
OF trees and endless sweeps OF close
cropped lawn: but in the hidden places
Of the park are tangled thickets where
fairy parkways run and make a wilder
ness
Love OF the woods. its people and
their tiny home spots is a precious gift.
and one who leaves the beaten path
ways Of the park and delyes into the
byways where the little people live
finds rich return. Tiny thickets. minia
ture iungies, sod untracked by any
human foot. make one forget the dust
and turmoil Of the downtown streets.
the need 20 struggle for existence and
tae inhumanity of i14n to man. The
sonber shadows Of close growing ever
greens make cool, dark caves. The
springy yield OF turf untrod is pIeasa
10 tired feet The fragrance of the
pines and flowers and grass makes one
forget the moil and rumble Of the city
and its fevered breath And on a SWAY
ing branch tip, his throat puffed out, a
white crowned sparrow swings and
sings. Unmindful Of his audience. he
lifts his lit OF song and sends it shrin-
ing TO the blue beyond the skies In very
Joy OF life, a pesn OF praise.
Some place close at hand Mrs
Sparrow is house keeping demurely
hoping, goodness gracious, that no one
viii drop IN on her and very much
afraid lest woe betide her tiny habita-
rfon and her precious baby eggs. Bu,
when she IS discovered she slips shyIy
over the nests edge and disappears
into the thiclzet, calling little nervous
cries Of alarm which serve TO end the
song With head cooked saucily on
one side her mate flies up and regards
the Gargautuan interlopers. chirpine
angrily while the seclusion OF his home
IS laid bare before the camera, but
when the dropping branches have
swung 10 again and veiled their nest
the interrupted house keeping resumes
the mother bird chirps throatily tha,
all is well, and then her. mate resumes
his perch, resings his song and all thei,
tiny world is happiness and peace.
One needs only 10 leave the bester
pathways OF the park to find bird
house keeping going on happily all
around TIE varieties that nest ther,
are many. not less than so al the yer,
ieast-nay they never be disturbed
Quail cali out on every side and scut.
tie around noisily in dense thickets ol
dy up into the concealing branches o.
the pines and eye intruders curiousIy
apparently not the least afraid, seem
ing 70 know that they are protected
from ali harm Their nests are many
there but hard TO find so carefully are
they hid from prying eyes. But when
close and careful search ends in sue
cess there Is an ample reconpense FOL
she time spent