Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1948-05-05
This and That
BIZ Charles Z. TraceiUell
How time flies I

How time flies!
An old saying. nothing new about it, but
true, sometimes too true.
reader on Chestnut street writes to ask If
we remember little Jane, who rs years ago
wrote to ask about Jack spratt. the cat
Jane has grown up the letter says, and
now Is a botanist and artist who has illustrated
several botany textbooks.
"A letter from her in Evanston recently con-
tanned the following:
I had an idea OF writing to Mr. Tracewell
for what 1t is worth but with the very diffi-
cult task of having to teach fungi and plant
diseases while knowing very little about them,
I've had little time for excursions off into the
literary world
Spring along Lake Michigan is definitely
an uncertain quality. There is bright de-
lghtful weather one day, cold freezing lake
born winds and snow flurries the next; SO we
nave continued putting broken bread cr,lsts
on the window sills for the birds Earlier.
during the winter, starlings and sparrows were
regular customers at our bread line and such
scratching and burroWing in the snow vo,
never saw. But now that the robins are back,
and particularly when their protein source is
frozen IN the turf, they patronize our window
Sill. Saturday one thanked us for our hospi-
tailty by singing for full five minutes on the
Sill. NOT exuberant robin fashion but the
same song muted, through closed beak, 7
slowly moved to the window so as not to
1rlghten him and there sat one of the largest
blackest-headed and most rufous male robins
I've ever seen. His mandibles were pressed
tghtiy together and only his throat uuivered
as ne went through his whole repertoire with
the volume turned down Presently having
nnlshed, he gobbled few pieces of Swedish
rye and launched himself on the strong lake
breeze with vocferous and true robin
flourish"
This is a nice picture of a robin,
The muted singing, with the volume turned
down. is not confined to this species.
1t Is one of the most pleasing aspects of
BIRD singing, too often unseen, and not real
lied by all listeners
Birds love to sing this way after thew perch
on bough for sleep
They sing softly, so softly that the sounds
may not carry more than few feet
Often the song is exactly the same as thew
sing loudly during the day. Sometimes it is
varied, or may not be more than a few soft
chirps
That cats may live amicably with birds is
an old story to many, but there are still some
persons who imagine it cannot be done
Our correspondent writes:
Butch, the great squirrel wrestler who
during his seven years with us had some seven
victories to his credit, and who was so exactly
squirrel color that such battles were remark
able to see has Joined his predecessors. Hig-
gins Kitsie, Asa Spades and all the rest, in the
happy hunting grounds, and for the first time
within my long remembrance we are catless."
This writer pays tribute to the song of the
catbird.
The song is long and varied, but with
certain tongue in cheek" quality that distin-
cuisines it from the more nourishing song of
the mocker.
The call of the catbird always interests a
friend OF cats it is such an exact imitation of
the cats meow
And pleasing sound 1t is, that first meow
to sound in ones own yard in the spring.
First OF the catsies came down April a.
He had been preceded a few days by the
wood thrush
So now the old friends were back, the robin,
thrush and catbird, three fne birds that make
any neighborhood . good neighborhood.