Books: Uncle Robert\'s Geography (Uncle Robert\'s Visit, V.3)
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Francis W. Parker and Nellie Lathrop Helm >> Uncle Robert\'s Geography (Uncle Robert\'s Visit, V.3)
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[Illustration: The squirrel]
"Then my dream became real--not children, but the gray coats, five or
six of them, close to me, were running up the trees, jumping from limb
to limb, scampering over the ground, chasing each other, laughing as
squirrels laugh, and screaming as squirrels scream. I watched the happy
playmates, brim full of fun. I have never shot a squirrel since."
CHAPTER IX.
THE BIRDS AND THE FLOWERS
The little family party strolled on through the beautiful woods,
following the windings of the creek that was now a tiny stream.
[Illustration: The creek in the woods]
Here and there were little holes hollowed out by the spring floods.
Miniature falls gurgled over dead leaves. Graceful ferns fringed
the creek's banks. Mosses covered the bowlders.
Through the foliage danced the rays of the bright sun, casting wavering
shadows over the leaf-covered ground.
"Here is the pond!" cried Susie.
But the pond that formed the reservoir of the creek was now nearly
drained, and in place of water there was a swamp filled with reeds,
rushes, and grasses. A small clear pool remained in the center.
[Illustration: Blackbirds.]
On the tall reeds swaying to and fro piped a family of blackbirds,
busily chattering to each other. Overhead in the cloudless sky floated a
huge hawk.
"In the spring this ground is all covered with water; it makes quite a
large lake," said Mr. Leonard.
"You thought of draining off the water and turning the pond into a
cornfield, didn't you, father?" asked Mrs. Leonard.
"Yes," said Mr. Leonard; "by digging a ditch or making the channel
deeper at the outlet, this would become dry land the year around. The
soil is deep and rich-better even than the bottom land."
"That would spoil the creek, wouldn't it, father?" asked Frank.
"Yes, it would run in the spring only," said Mr. Leonard.
"Where would the cattle drink in the summer?" asked Donald.
"That's the difficulty. The swamp holds enough to keep the cattle in
water all summer."
"Would the corn more than pay for the loss of the water?" asked Frank.
"Yes, I think so," answered his father.
"But it would spoil my beautiful creek," said Susie. "Don't do that."
"If this swamp were in New England," said Uncle Robert, "the farmers
would dig out this rich mud for their poor land."
"Oh," cried Susie, "the blue flags are almost in bloom!"
"There is one all blossomed out," said Donald. "I'll get it."
The boys took an old log and threw it across the wet place, and Donald,
balancing himself carefully, went out and picked the blooming flag with
its buds.
"Thank you, Donald," said Susie, as he handed her the pretty flowers.
"I'll put the buds in water and they will open."
[Illustration: Blue Flag.]
"Do you know the names of all the flowers in your bouquet?" asked Uncle
Robert.
"Every one of them," said Susie. "This is phlox. There is ever so much
of it in the woods now. And this is a trillium. Isn't it big and white?
Here is another, only it is red."
"We used to call the red ones 'wake-robin' in New England," said Uncle
Robert. "I thought they came earlier than the white ones."
"They do," said Susie. "They've been here a long time."
"The violets are just as pretty as when I came, aren't they?" said Uncle
Robert. "Do they stay all summer?"
"Not quite," replied Susie. "But they stay a long time in the woods."
"What is this?" asked Uncle Robert, pointing to a pale-pink flower on a
hairy stem, surrounded by rough green leaves.
"That's a wild geranium," said Susie; "but do you think it looks-much
like a geranium? I don't."
"No, but here is a seed pod," said Uncle Robert. "It looks like the seed
of the geranium that grows in the garden. Perhaps that is what gave it
the name."
[Illustration: Wild geranium.]
"I have a flower that you haven't, Susie," said Mrs. Leonard, holding it
up for them to see.
"Oh," cried Susie, "a yellow lady's slipper! I didn't know they were out
yet. Where did you find it?"
"I picked it on the bank near the creek while you were talking about the
trees," replied her mother.
"I wish I could find a pink one," said Susie, looking around.
"Isn't it too early for them?" asked Uncle Robert.
"They come about the same time as the yellow ones," said Donald, "but we
don't find very many of them."
"I like the Indian name for that flower," said Mr. Leonard.
"Do you mean moccasin flower, father?" asked Frank. "I like that too."
[Illustration: Yellow lady's slipper.]
"Why don't we call it that?" asked Donald.
"Lady's slipper is easier to remember," said Susie.
"Here are some bluebells, Susie," said Frank, holding up a handful of
the dainty, graceful blossoms. "Give some to mother, and you may have
the rest."
"How many blue flowers we have!" said Susie. "There aren't any red ones
excepting the red trillium, and that's so dark it isn't really red."
"It's more purple than red," said Donald.
"This isn't the time of the year for red flowers," said Mrs. Leonard.
"They come later in the summer and in the fall."
"I wonder why there are no red ones in the spring," said Susie.
"I saw painted cups along the edge of the timothy meadow yesterday,"
said Donald.
[Illustration: Moccasin flower.]
"Oh, did you, Don? Were they truly red, or just yellow?"
"No, they were in bloom. They were red."
"Let's go home that way," said Susie, "and get some."
"I wish all the people in New York could know how restful these woods
are," said Uncle Robert, breathing a long breath of the sweet, pure air.
"It always seems to me more quiet in the woods on Sunday than on any
other day," said Mrs. Leonard.
"Do the birds know when it is Sunday?" asked Susie.
"If they do," said Uncle Robert, "those blue jays must have forgotten."
"Just hear how they scream!" said Frank.
"They must be up to their usual trick," said Mr. Leonard, "of tormenting
some other bird."
"Listen!" said Donald. "It's a sparrow hawk they're after. That's the
sparrow hawk's cry, but it's a blue jay that made it. They always mimic
them when they chase them. I've watched them lots of times."
[Illustration: Blue jay.]
"I wish we could see them now!" said Frank. "The hawk will turn on them
soon. Then they'll change their tune."
"They are having a good time shouting and screaming to each other," said
Susie. "What a horrid noise they make!"
"They scare away the other birds," said Donald.
"How many birds do you know?" asked Uncle Robert.
[Illustration: Robin.]
"I know all the birds that come around the house and the barn," said
Donald. "There are the robins, sparrows, pewees, wrens, swallows, and
martins. Then there are the birds in the fields--the larks and the
crows. The names of some of the little birds in the woods I do not
know."
"You have left out the woodpeckers," said Frank, "and the thrushes and
catbirds."
"And the cherry birds, that look like canaries," said Susie.
"Get up early in the morning, just as the sun is rising, and you will
hear a chorus," said Mrs. Leonard. "It is a regular morning praise
meeting."
[Illustration: Woodpecker.] "The oriole, or golden robin, is the
handsomest bird of all," said Donald.
"A great many birds come in the spring which stay only a few days," said
Frank.
"Where do they come from, and where do they go?" asked Uncle Robert.
"They come from the south, I suppose, where it is warmer. I wonder how
they know when it is time to start," said Frank.
"And which way to go," added Donald.
"And how they decide where to stop and build their nests," said Mrs.
Leonard.
[Illustration: Oriole.]
"Very interesting questions, but no one has answered them yet," said
Uncle Robert. "Migrating birds are all found in the south in winter, and
we see them in the spring."
"What do you mean by mi-grat-ing birds?" asked Susie.
"Birds that fly from one part of the country to another," said Uncle
Robert.
"The bluebird is the first to come," said Donald.
"A patch of blue sky," said Uncle Robert.
"You forget the geese that screech over our heads in the early
spring," said Frank. "They fly in flocks shaped like an arrow."
[Illustration: Bluebird.]
"The 'bobwhite' is the funniest little bird. One comes right up to my
garden fence. It is a shame to shoot them!" said Susie.
"It is a shame to kill any bird unless you need it for food. Every time
a bird is killed the farmer loses one of his best helpers. The birds
work for the farmer from morning to night."
"Oh, now you are making fun, Uncle Robert," said Susie. "The birds don't
work at all. They just fly around and have a good time."
"The crows don't work for the farmer when they pull up his corn," said
Frank.
"Nor the hawks when they steal his chickens," added Mr. Leonard.
"The cherry birds steal the cherries, and the sparrows eat the
strawberries," said Susie.
"You would soon find out how much the birds do if they should all fly
away," said Uncle Robert.
[Illustration: Crow. ]
"The cankerworms would eat the leaves of the
apple and other trees, and insects of all kinds would destroy the crops.
The crow taxes the corn in payment for all the good he does. The hawks
eat a thousand mice to one chicken--in fact, very few hawks eat
chickens, anyway. The cherry birds and sparrows should be allowed a
little toll for all the fruit they save. I want you to read a charming
book called The Great World's Farm. The author calls birds 'Nature's
militia.' The morning song of the birds means 'We are going to help the
farmer to-day.'"
"That's true," said Mr. Leonard. "The farmers are just learning what a
help the birds are to them. We have found that they eat the grubs, the
worms, and the bugs before they eat everything else."
"Would there be very many more worms than there are now," asked Susie,
"if the birds should go away?"
"You don't remember, do you, Susie," said her mother, "how many
caterpillars there were in the village the year they tried to drive the
sparrows away?"
"I do," said Donald. "Wasn't it dreadful? Why, Uncle Robert, the leaves
were all eaten off the trees, and you could hardly take a step without
squashing a caterpillar."
"Ugh!" said Susie with a shudder. "I'm glad I was too little to remember
it."
"But the strange part of it was," said Frank, "that out here we hardly
saw a caterpillar all summer."
"And our trees were never more beautiful," said Mrs. Leonard.
"Perhaps the village sparrows came to visit you," said Uncle Robert.
"They must have," said Donald. "The woods were full of them."
"I have read," said Uncle Robert, "that some small birds eat every day
as much as their own weight in worms and insects."
"Oh, my!" said Susie. "I wonder how many worms that would be."
"The appetite of the small bird," said Mr. Leonard, looking at Donald
with a smile, "must be something like that of a small boy."
They had now left the woods and were going toward the timothy meadow to
get the painted cups. Donald was right. One corner of the meadow was
bright with the vivid red patches.
The sun was setting when they reached home. As they passed the woodpile
in the back yard Donald said:
"I wonder how old that wood is! I'm going to see if I can count the
rings."
"Show them to me, Donald," said Susie. "I never saw them."
Just then the clear, rich song of a bird rang out from the top of a tree
on the edge of the woods.
"Hark!" said Mr. Leonard. "That is the thrush."
They listened until the song was ended.
"What a lovely walk we have had!" said Susie. "I'm not a bit tired. Are
you, mother?"
"Well, a little," said Mrs. Leonard, "but we never had a more delightful
afternoon. Thank you, dear," as Frank brought an easy-chair from the
house to the porch for her. "Now I shall be rested in a few minutes."
"Let me put your flowers in water with mine, mother," said Susie.
"Tell Jane to bring our supper out here," said Mrs. Leonard. "It is too
pleasant to go in the house."
"And tell her to be quick about it," said Donald. "I'm starving!"
"As hungry as a sparrow," said Uncle Robert, smiling.
While they were eating, the twilight came on.
"Listen!" whispered Frank, as a queer, clucking sound was heard among
the bushes. Then came the cry:
"Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!"
"I wish I could see a whip-poor-will," said Donald. "They never let me
get near enough to them to see how they look."
"Let's try this one," said Frank. "It's very near."
On tiptoe they slipped off the porch, but the shy bird heard them and
flew away. Soon they heard it again:
"Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!"
And another one answered from the edge of the cornfield:
"Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!"
[Illustration: Whip-poor-will. ]
CHAPTER X.
THE THUNDERSHOWER.
It had been growing warmer all day. When Susie looked at the thermometer
at noon she wrote "82 degrees" in her little book. As they sat around
the dinner table Uncle Robert asked:
"Do you find it hot in the meadow to-day?" "Rather warm," replied Mr.
Leonard, "but it is fine haying weather. By night we shall have the hay
in off that twenty acres, and it will be the finest crop of timothy I
have had in years."
The haying had begun four days before. For a week Mr. Leonard had
visited the field of timothy daily, and when he found the long heads of
the graceful grass in full bloom he said:
"It is ready. We must begin to-morrow."
So the next morning the horses were hitched to the mowing machine, and
Peter drove out to the meadow. The plumy heads of the tall timothy
swayed on their slender stalks as they bowed before the breeze that
swept over the meadow, making it look in the sunshine like the rippling
surface of a quiet lake.
[Illustration: Mowing the meadow.]
It seemed a pity to cut it down, but Peter thought only of the fine hay
it would make, as he drove around the meadow again and again, each time
coming nearer the center.
No sound broke the stillness but the "click, click" of the sharp knives,
at the touch of which the tall grass quivered a moment and then fell.
In the afternoon Donald rode the rake, to which one of the horses,
strong and steady, was hitched. The horse knew his business. He needed
no direction from Donald as up and down the meadow he went, with slow
and even steps.
Donald sat on the small round seat, his hand grasping the lever by which
he raised and lowered the long curved teeth of the rake that gathered up
the hay and dropped it in long rows called windrows.
Mr. Leonard and Frank followed with their pitchforks, and piled the
windrows into big round cocks. The sun shone hot and clear. A strong,
dry south wind was blowing, and the air was filled with the sweet smell
of the newly mown hay.
The second day Mr. Leonard rode the machine while Peter and Frank opened
the hay that had been cocked the day before, so that it would be nicely
dried. By noon it was all cut.
The next day they raked it up for the last time and began to stow it
away in the big haymows in the barn, where the very smell of it would
make the horses hungry.
"Susie and I are coming out to help this afternoon," said Uncle Robert,
as, after a short rest in the cool porch, the haymakers, started for the
meadow again.
"We'll take all the help we can get," replied Mr. Leonard.
"I am afraid it is going to rain," said Uncle Robert, as he started a
little later with Susie for the hayfield. "The barometer has fallen
since morning."
"But, uncle," said Susie, "I don't see any clouds."
[Illustration: Raking and cocking hay.]
"Watch, and you'll see them before long," returned Uncle Robert. "What
is that in the west now?"
"It looks like the beginning of a cloud," said Susie.
Mr. Leonard, Peter, and Frank were loading the hay into a big wagon,
while Donald raked after them.
"There's a shower coming," said Uncle Robert, pointing toward the west.
All paused and looked at the bank of clouds just coming into sight along
the western horizon.
The air was still and sultry. Great beads of perspiration rolled down
the faces of the haymakers.
"It's going to rain, sure," shouted Mr. Leonard, "and we must hurry or
this fine hay will be spoiled. Harness up the horses to the other
hayrack, Frank and Donald--be quick!"
The boys did not need urging. They felt the need, and ran to the barn.
"Bring some extra pitchforks!" shouted their father after them.
Uncle Robert pulled off his coat, and the spirit of his boyhood days
came back.
Susie seized a rake and began to gather the scattered hay and pile it on
the cocks.
The fresh span of horses galloped into the field. Frank brought them to
a stand between two long rows of haycocks.
How they all worked! The very horses seemed to understand. They started
with a jump to each new cock, and stood perfectly still as one after the
other was added to their load.
"It is coming!" shouted Peter, swinging his fork to spread the great
bundles of hay which came flying up to him.
The clouds looked like mountains with snowy peaks as they rose rapidly
in the southwest. The mass moved under the sun and the bright silver
color changed to blackness. Lightning flashes followed one another
quickly. The low rumbling of thunder stirred the still air.
"It is coming!" cried Donald, as he took the reins to move to another
cock. "G'long!"
All was hurry and excitement. Mrs. Leonard and Jane appeared on the
scene with rakes in hand. Barri bounded from horse to horse as if that
was some help.
Suddenly it grew darker. The leaves began to quiver. A curious light
crept over the fields.
"There is the wind," shouted Frank. "The rain will be here in a minute."
Clouds completely covered the sky. Black forms seemed to dart out of
their heavy masses.
"There's a drop," cried Susie.
Then what a wind! Straw hats were whirled away, but there was no time to
run after them.
"Pile up the hay!"
The great loads staggered.
"Drive for the barn!" shouted Mr. Leonard. "Some of it must spoil, I
suppose. We have done our best."
The horses moved off on the run, Frank's team ahead.
A roll and a crash of thunder followed a zigzag flash.
The hay was under cover, and the rain poured down.
[Illustration: The coming storm.]
They reached the porch just as it began to fall thick and fast. A moment
more and it came down in floods, while at the same time the darkness
passed away.
"How cool it is growing!" said Mrs. Leonard.
"It is twelve degrees cooler than it was at noon," said Donald, looking
at the thermometer. "See, the wind has changed. It is from the northeast
now."
Frank went into the dining-room, and when he came back he said, "The
barometer has risen two-tenths of an inch since we looked at it last."
It seemed to rain harder than ever. The water was driven in sheets
before the strong northeast wind. A stream began to run down the garden
path. A vivid flash of lightning was followed quickly by a loud crash of
thunder.
"That struck somewhere near," said Frank.
"I believe it was over in the wood," said Mrs. Leonard.
"See," said Uncle Robert in a few moments, pointing to a line of light
in the western sky, "it is clearing already. The shower will soon be
over."
The light in the west grew rapidly. The lightning became less frequent.
The thunder rolled farther and farther away. The rain fell less and less
heavily. The weather vane that had pointed to the northeast began to
waver, and then turned toward the southwest again. It rained steadily
but more gently as the clouds rolled away eastward.
And then the sun, lower now by two hours than when it was first hidden
by the cloud, shone out clear and bright. Instantly everything glistened
as with millions of diamonds. Even the air seemed to be filled with them,
as though each raindrop was turned into a jewel as it fell.
Uncle Robert went to the front of the house and looked toward the dark
cloud that was now piled up in the eastern sky.
"Come and see the rainbow!" he called.
As they looked at the bright and perfect arch that lay against the dark
mass of clouds, Susie asked, "What makes rainbows, uncle?"
"It is the sun shining on the rain," replied Uncle Robert "This
beautiful sunlight is made up of many, many rays. These rays fly from
the sun as straight as arrows from a bow, unless something comes in
their way to stop them. It seems as though such sharp little arrows of
light would go right through raindrops. But they don't. They glance off
the little round balls of water and bound up again like rubber balls.
"Now you know if you throw a ball straight down at your feet it bounds
back into your hands. If you throw it from you, when it strikes the
ground it bounds farther away. It is just so with these little arrows of
light that we call rays. If the sun is high, as it is at noon, the rays
are thrown back to it again. That is why we never have rainbows at noon.
But when the sun is low, as it is now, instead of going back to the
place they came from, they bound up against that cloud, and so make the
wonderful rainbow."
"But, uncle," asked Donald, "why do we see so many colors in the
rainbow? They are not in the sunlight."
"Oh, yes, they are," was the answer. "These rays of light are of the
same colors that we see in the rainbow. It takes all of them mixed
together to make the clear white light which we call sunlight, and
without which nothing could live or grow.
"As the raindrops throw them up against that cloud, they are separated
again, because some colors are more easily bent than others. The red,
you see, is the highest and the violet the lowest in the bow. The
raindrops make a prism. You have seen a prism. But through the prism the
colors are turned the other way; the red is lowest and the violet
highest."
"How fast the rainbow is fading away!" said Susie. "I wish it would
stay."
"The rain is over," announced Donald, leaving them and walking out
toward the garden. "The sky is quite clear."
"It is getting warm again," said Frank, looking at the thermometer, "but
it does not feel hot as it did before the rain."
"The barometer is just where it was this morning," said Susie, coming
from the dining-room.
"It is drying off very fast," said Uncle Robert. "Let us walk out and
see how the garden stood its drenching."
"Put on your rubbers, Susie," called Mrs. Leonard from the house.
As they crossed the yard they passed a pan in the bottom of which the
water stood an inch or more deep.
"That shows how much rain fell," said Uncle Robert, pointing to the pan.
"Do you mean if it had stayed on the ground where it fell it would have
been that deep all over?" asked Susie. "Would that have been very much?"
"I think it would," was the smiling reply. "You might try to find out
how much fell on the garden alone if it was an inch deep all over."
Susie shook her head.
"I don't know how," she said.
"Uncle," said Frank, "in the weather reports they always tell how much
rain falls, even if it is only a small part of an inch. How can they
tell when it is so little?"
"They have what is called a rain gauge, by which a very small amount of
rainfall can be measured. By the way, we might have a rain-gauge of our
own. It would be easy to make one with the help of a tinsmith. Is there
a tinsmith in the village?"
"Yes," answered Frank, "but I don't believe he has much to do."
"So much the better for us," laughed Uncle Robert. "Susie, while these
other people are busy tomorrow, shall we drive to the village and see if
we can get the tinsmith to help us make a rain-gauge? I have a little
book somewhere that tells just how it should be done."
Susie was delighted at the thought of such a day with Uncle Robert, and
the boys were so interested in the prospect of having a rain-gauge of
their own that they could hardly wait for to-morrow to come.
CHAPTER XI.
THE VILLAGE.
The next morning Frank harnessed Nell for Uncle Robert and Susie to
drive into the village to see the tinsmith.
It was a delightful ride through the woods and the fields washed clean
by the rain. The birds were singing gayly. The air was fresh and clear.
Long shadows lay along the road.
The tinsmith was sitting by his open door, tilted back in an old wooden
chair. As Nell stopped, he brought his chair down on its four legs and
said:
"Good morning."
Uncle Robert lifted Susie out of the wagon and hitched Nell to a post.
The tinsmith rose to his feet, smiling to Susie, who said:
"This is my Uncle Robert, Mr. Mills. We've come to have a rain-gauge
made."
"Good morning," said Uncle Robert, turning to Mr. Mills, who looked as
if he thought rain gauges were not exactly in his line. "Can you spare
us a little time this morning? Susie must have her rain-gauge before the
next shower."
"Come right in," said Mr. Mills, "and tell me what your rain-gauge looks
like. I never heard of such a thing."
With Uncle Robert's careful direction he soon understood what they
wanted. They saw him well started in the work, and then Uncle Robert
said:
"Come, Susie, let's go to the post office.--How long before the
rain-gauge will be finished?" he asked of Mr. Mills. "Shall we have time
to get dinner?"
"I think I can have it ready by two o'clock," answered Mr. Mills.
"Then we'll take Nell to the hotel," said Uncle Robert.
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