Who, sheltered from all strife,
On thornless pathways tread?
Two Storks
By Charlotte Perkins Gilman
(America’s foremost woman Sociologist. Author of numerous books, and editor, owner and publisher of “The Forerunner,” a magazine of advanced thought on the woman question. The following is from “The Forerunner.”)
Two storks were nesting.
He was a young stork—and narrow minded. Before he married he had consorted mainly with striplings of his own kind, and had given no thought to the ladies, either maid or matron.
After he married his attention was concentrated on his all-satisfying wife, upon that triumph of art, labor and love—their nest, and upon those special creations—their children. Deeply was he moved by the marvelous instincts and processes of motherhood. Love, reverence, intense admiration, rose in his heart for her of the well-built nest; her of the gleaming treasure of smooth eggs; her of the patient brooding breast, the warming wings, the downy, wide-mouthed group of little ones.
Assiduously he labored to help her build the nest, to help her feed the young; proud of his impassioned activity in her and their behalf; devoutly he performed his share of the brooding, while she hunted in her turn. When he was a-wing he thought continually of her as one with the brood—his brood. When he was on the nest he thought all the more of her, who sat there so long, so lovingly, to such noble ends.
The happy days flew by, fair spring—sweet summer—gentle autumn. The young ones grew larger and larger; it was more and more work to keep their lengthening, widening beaks shut in contentment. Both parents flew far afield to feed them.