Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

“Work” completed, I settled myself in the arbor to write. While sitting I see many things, which would probably escape my attention on a woods ramble. While perhaps not a remarkable occurrence, I saw a robin cleaning himself on a tree-limb. It called attention to the sorry condition which these birds get into, once they are now slim, dulled in color and ruffled of feather, and at times apparently dispirited.(HT)There were times when all the birds seemed to sing or chatter at the same time, as if by some preconceived arrangement and it seemed such a busy world. Sparrows, Robins, and chippy sparrows kept up a constant calling and at times a song-sparrow sang. Even the cackling of hens and the strident blasts of a fish-horn did not seem out of place.(HT)Cripples we do not see often among Nature’s creatures: for the animal or insect must depend solely on its physical powers to exist. One came to my [...]