The birds were the red- and blue-headed parrakeets. When frightened they always flew to a curious tree which, tho bare of leaves, was sparsely covered with an odd-looking, long, and four-sided fruit of a green color. Under such circumstances they alighted all together, and unlike their usual custom of perching in pairs, they scattered all over the tree, stood very upright, and remained motionless. From a distance of fifty feet it was impossible to distinguish parrakeet from fruit, so close was the resemblance. A hawk dashed down once and carried away a bird, but the others remained as still as if they were inanimate fruit. This silent trust in the protective resemblance of the green fruit was most remarkable, when we remembered the frantic shrieks which these birds always set up at the approach of danger, when they happened to be caught away from one of these parrot-fruit trees.—Olive Thorne Miller, “The Bird Our Brother.”
(2570)
In the tropics of Mexico, where torrential rains fall a part of each year, raincoats are a very necessary part of man’s apparel. Owing to the intense heat which prevails in the summer season, the ordinary rubber raincoat can not be worn. A rain-proof coat is made from native grasses. The grasses are woven close together, and it is impossible for the rain to beat through them, no matter how hard the storm may be. It would be the height of folly for a man in that part of Mexico to fail in providing himself with this most necessary part of his raiment. “The fiery darts of the wicked one” may be shed by a certain breast-plate mentioned by Paul.
(2571)
PROTECTION, UNSEEN
A butterfly was once seen behind a window-pane fluttering in fear of a sparrow outside that was pecking at it in an attempt to get at its victim, which, after all, was beyond the sparrow’s reach.
That window-pane was an unseen protector. (Text.)
(2572)