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136
My Studio Neighbors
·
W. Hamilton Gibson
29
And
what
the
cow-bird
is,
so
is
the
Continental
"cuckoo."
Shall
we
not
discriminate
in
our
employment
of
the
superlative?
What
of
the
throstle
and
the
lark?
Shall
we
still
sing--all
together:
"O
cuckoo!
I
hear
thee
and
rejoice!
Thrice
welcome
darling
of
the
spring."
DOOR-STEP
NEIGHBORS
How
little
do
we
appreciate
our
opportunities
for
natural
observation!
Even
under
the
most
apparently
discouraging
and
commonplace
environment,
what
a
neglected
harvest!
A
back-yard
city
grass-plot,
forsooth,
what
an
invitation!
Yet
there
is
one
interrogation
to
which
the
local
naturalist
is
continually
called
to
respond.
If
perchance
he
dwells
in
Connecticut,
how
repeatedly
is
he
asked,
"Don't
you
find
your
particular
locality
in
Connecticut
a
specially
rich
field
for
natural
observation?"
The
botanist
of
New
Jersey
or
the
ornithologist
of
Esopus-on-Hudson
is
expected
to
give
an
affirmative
reply
to
similar
questions
concerning
his
chosen
hunting-grounds,
if,
indeed,
he
does
not
avail
himself
of
that
happy
aphorism
with
which
Gilbert
White
was
wont
to
instruct
his
questioners
concerning
the
natural-history
harvest
of
his
beloved
Selborne:
"That
locality
is
always
richest
which
is
most
observed."
The
arena
of
the
events
which
I
am
about
to
describe
and
picture
comprised
a
spot
of
almost
bare
earth
less
than
one
yard
square,
which
lay
at
the
base
of
the
stone
step
to
my
studio
door
in
the
country.
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