"Since it is Nature's special brew I heartily endorse your suggestion," replied Miss Miller, in thought reading again the contents of Doctor Baker's letter.
Comfortably grouped once more near the fire, the Guide continued.
"A bird we are sure to hear while in camp is the whippoorwill. When you first hear his cry you will feel startled, wondering who is about to be whipped. Then, as the cry is repeated over and over from the willows, or some other tree, you will remember my story.
"This bird flies in the night and rests in the daytime. They build no nests but lay two eggs on a stump, or on the ground. It is a reddish-brown in colour, mottled with grey-black and white.
"They eat great quantities of destructive insects and thus prove a help to mankind.
"Many superstitious folk used to believe that a whippoorwill boded ill to the family it serenaded, but this foolishness is fast disappearing as the understanding of bird-life and denizens of the forest becomes wide-spread. And, girls, camps and organisations like Woodcraft are actually bringing about the boon of knowledge to deluded and ignorant mortals."
"Long live Woodcraft!" came from Zan in a deep-toned boom.
The others laughed and Miss Miller assumed a more comfortable position before she continued.
"There are so many sweet little birds that I am sure we have seen this summer that I hardly know where to begin. I want to speak of the oriole, the bobolink, the friendly sparrow, the lark, and, in fact, I can't repeat more just now. But one bird I must acquaint you with is the wood-pecker.