Bluebird

I stood beside my father, watching the first December snowflakes falling. Juncos were feeding on crumbs I had scattered and a BLUEBIRD appeared. He lit on a barrel edge then dropped within.

"Cover the barrel with your coat and maybe you can catch him."

The window was a story above ground. Bird and barrel were out of sight while I was descending the stairs. Carefully opening the lower door I rushed out and threw the coat over, then peeked in. I looked up at the window — father was laughing. I looked up into the pear tree — the Bluebird was expressing amusement in gentle notes of derision. My failure was fortunate for the bird. Had I caught him, sparrows would have been his cage fellows in an aviary about two feet square. Fate could hand no ruffer deal than that to any song bird!

Inscrutable Providence may "watch the sparrows' fall" but takes a special interest in the decimation of these singularly lovable birds and the manner of this destruction is very simple: in the warm south the Bluebirds are well fed and happy. This wont do, says "Inscrutable"; altogether too contented. I'll just whisper in their ears that Spring has come in the hills of home and when I get 'em there —

So the wanderlust message is given to their little minds but storm warnings withheld — a lovely trick, quite in keeping with the god of fact. They start and in their travels pause at many a home to flute that inexpressibly sweet haunting song we all remember, until presently five of the wanderers reach this valley in the Taconic Hills. They were very friendly when on the sumac almost within hand touch, where I sat and smoked in the comfortable March sun.

"Wish you fellows would hire these apartments I've erected for your special convenience."

They looked the bark mansions over. A pair would take turns inspecting the premises, then adjourn to the grape arbor slats to talk things over in a very intimate conversational way.

"But, my dear, the location is very convenient. We can do our shopping at the door — no carfares and the rent is not excessive."

"One thousand bugs a month not excessive! What are you thinking of? We could get apartments in Tudor City for that!"

"But think of the noise —"

"Here," I butted in. "Take it for 500 bugs!"

I think they had decided to do so. They staid anyway. I picked their starved bodies from my porch three days later, after two days of snow and sleet.

Our reaction to such tragedy is a reflex of the kind of mind we have. Those who believe all happenings are for the best, bow the head but I do not belong to that school. A Power which takes special delight in inflicting suffering and death on the most beautiful and harmless of its children, gets neither bowed head nor bent knee. The deal is particularly atrocious because if this ruling Force is omnipotent It could so easily have ordered things otherwise. Herbivorous life goes on without destroying sentient things. Reproduction limited and food insensate. Simple as that.