The Tiny Folk

(A real story at real children ins-vaqyoanggolaildrasll

The green meadow grass waved in the gentle breeze that whispered across the fields. In the pasture be- vond. the cows were busy eating up the juicy blades. Busy little song sparrows flew about. while swalt lows dipped and swooped as they crossed from the brook to the barn with its clay nests beneath the eaves.

Laurie was visiting his cousin, Lynne, and they lay lazily beneath the shade of the rowan tree. watching the cattle, the birds, and the cars passing on the highway. They talked of their plans when Lynne would spend her Jiolidays nn Playtime Lane. But soon Ihey got bored with just being still and wondered what they could do.

"I have an idea. Let's go pick- ing buttercups," suggested Lynne.

”Oh yes. let's," Laurie gaily agreed. "Where shall we go?”

”See that field over there," an- iwered Lynne, pointing to the neadow sloping down to the brook. ilhe took his hand and away they rent. stepping lightly through the very high thick grass by the fence.

"Here are some." shouted Lynne dashing over to her left.

"And I've found some too,” rried Laurie, running ahead to where golden buttercups lifted their heads on long swaying stems. in their eagerness to gather the blossoms they forgot to talk, but picked and picked

"I have a big bunch. Let's go how Mommy." called Laurie. ack they went the way they had zome. and into the house where Laurie's mother was chatting vith Aunt Belle.

"Look at my buttercups." ex- claimed Lynne.

"Look at my big bunch." echoed Laurie. "Aren't they just beautiful, Mommy?"

”Yes, they are lovely. dear. Where did you get them?" his mother asked.

"Oh, just over in the field. Lynne showed me where to go." he replied. ”Do these flowers inake butter?”

His mother smiled. "No clear, they don't. They are just the col- ? of butter. but we need cr'c-am

vr that. not flowers."

"Let's put them in water so

Be at your best Chew Wrigley": Spearmint Gum- Fmhm. ,mug....we.tuu breath Chcwins helw W? W” ”'l'h" Keen - reds": -hi"?

NOT FUSE!

Being fussy doesn't pay. Just do things the easy way. -01' Mr. Buasard.

01' Mistah Bussard isn't fussy. He isn't fussy at all. He isn't fussy over how he looks, or what he eat: or where he makes his home. Per- haps he is Just lazy. It is the same way with Mrs. Buzzard. They are alike in every way, even looks. It is not easy to tell them apart. as Bob White had found out. He had mistaken Mrs. Buzzard for 01' Mistam Buzzard.

some of the feathered folk who spend each winter in the sunny South hurry back with the coining of Mistress Spring. They make long hard flights to get to their nesting grounds. Sometimes at the end of a long flight, thev are so tired they can hardly lift their wings What. they really do is make work of the long Journey up from the Sunny south.

01' Mistah Buzzard, whose proper name is Vulture, doesn't believe in making work of flying. He and Mrs. Buzzard take things easy. They enjoy flying, and know how to fly with the least work. Their wings are never tired. Whatever they do, they do in the easiest way.

It is a good thing for them that they are not fussy, and that they never make work of flying. They are not killers like the members of the hawk family and the owl family. They are meat eaters like .those others. but they do not kill to get it. They hunt for that kill- ed by others, and perhaps left in the woods and fields. You know some of those hunters sometimes kill more than they can eat at one time. The buzzard fdlk are what

they won't die." suggested Lynne. She went for a small glass jar to put them in. Laurie helped too, but they had quite a bit of trou- ble getting them to stay. Some of the stems were very short. and the flowers tell right out a- gain. At last they had them all

in.

"I'll put them up on the buf- fet." said Lynne. "There, now, Mommy. come and see our pretty bouquet."

"They look so bright and gay against the dark wood," replied her mother, giving her a loving pat. "I'm prnuder of the flowers my little girl brings me than I would be df the best bouquet from the florist."

I fill smile i -isllr sortui

By Thorton W. Burgess

are called scavengers. living al- most wholly on what other people leave.

Of course this means that they must. look over a very large part of the Green Forest and the Green

eadowa and the pastures in or-

er to find enough to eat. so it is

well that they can fly so tirelessly, and that they have such wonder- ful eyes. .

when they had come up from the Sunny south this year, they had not returned to that part. of the Green Forest where they had lived the year before. They had chosen to

Page 13 The Gurdin

Tuesday. June 29. 1954 their former place. You see dis- tance means very little to such easy flyers. They had intended to return to the familiar part of the Green !orest. but it had happened that they had found a place where food seemed easier to find. so. they had stopped there. ,

They were not too far away to visit the old home in the Green Forest, but they were quite satis- fied Just to visit there. At first they gave no thought to house- keeping or hornemaking. They were quite satisfied to sail over the Green Forest and the Big River and ponds and countryside day after day, Just looking for some- thing to eat. Then, one day, Mrs. Buzzard reminded 01' Miatah Buz- zard that it was time for them to deride where they would make this year's home.

"Ah suppose you are right, mah dear," replied 01' Milton Bus- zard. "Ah suppose that is what we came up here fo'. Of course we might have stayed down in the

stop at a place a long distance from

'Contlnued on page 14

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