Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

are subdued by the heat - is the song of the cicada. I like the cicadas. Their bigblunt heads are comical and to come across one of the empty shells of the young cicada, on a tree trunk has a charm for me - I don’t know why. I believe they are the one insect the sparrows make war on. Perhaps it is love of a fight that leads them to it for they never kill a cicada easily. Of course a cicada cannot fight back but they have enough endurance and are big enough often to be troublesome so that they get away. Only yesterday I saw a sparrow endeavoring to devour one. It was in an alley. The cicada was making a great racket about it. As I came along the sparrow, frightened, seized the insect and flew away and as he flew I could still hear the cicada buzzing angrily.

A while ago I was amazed to hear a Peter-bird’s song. A strange thing in August. Somehow it seems out of place in this hot weather. It sounds sweeter on cold wintry days when all is