The selection of the winning essays was made with much difficulty, and, in addition to the two chosen, we would especially commend those written by the following named boys and girls:
Philip Baker, Indianapolis, Ind.; Harriet J. Benton, New Bedford, Mass.; Zelda Brown, Yuma, Ariz.; Donald Bruce, East Hampton, Mass.; Walter S. Chansler, Bicknell, Ind.; Marion Flagg, 90 Washington St., Hartford, Conn.; Charles B. Floyd, Brookline, Mass.; Kathryn Gibbs, Kalamazoo, Mich.; Albert Linton, Moorestown, N. J.; Clara T. Magee, Moorestown, N. J.; George S. Mac Nider, Chapel Hill, N. C.; Barnard Powers, Melrose, Mass.; Elden Smith, Milville, Mass.; Lydia Sharpless, Haverford, Pa.—Ed.
[A February Walk in Central Park, New York]
BY FLOYD C. NOBLE
(Aged 14 years)
On February 18, 1899, my friend and I started out 'bird-hunting,' as usual, in the 'Ramble,' Central Park. It was during the comparatively warm spell after the blizzard of the 12th, and the preceding zero weather. On the way we saw a Starling, perched high on a building, trying to sing. On entering the Park we saw a White-throated Sparrow. I have seen this species more times than any other this month—of course, excepting the common Sparrow.
On nearing our 'hunting-grounds,' we heard the familiar 'cree-e' of a Brown Creeper, and soon discovered the little fellow hard at work, as usual. A little later we came upon the beautiful Cardinal, with his two wives. It is a fact that there are one male and two females, though probably only one is his real mate. He does not, however, appear to be partial to either.
Further on we found what we were chiefly looking for—a flock of lively little Chickadees. I found that I had only a very small supply of hazelnuts with me, but I made the best of them. There was a good deal of snow on the ground, which made the Chickadees unusually tame—being hungry. They would light on our hands, inspect the pieces of crushed nut there, knock off the ones that did not suit them, and finally fly off with one—usually the largest. We soon began to recognize separate birds, and gave them names: such as 'Buffy,' 'Pretty,' etc. Then our attention was attracted by the queer noise made by the Nuthatch, and this trunk-crawling friend of ours appeared. We think that continued close inspection of tree-trunks has made him near-sighted, because when you throw him a piece of nut he generally just gazes at it, grunts a little, and then looks at you again. My cousin suggested that when he did find what you threw him, it was by the sense of hearing rather than that of sight, as he can generally find a big piece that makes a noise in falling. When he succeeds in getting 'something good,' he wedges it into the bark somewhere and hits it with his bill.