Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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THE LURE OF BIRDS In a nearby field, intersected by numerous small streams, jacksnipes, curious fellows with large heavy bills, were probing the soft mud for worms. When alarmed they arose with a twittering whistle and pursued a low zigzag course over the ground for a short distance. Alighting they froze, that is effaced themselves by crouching low on the dull ground. Best of all was the sight of the black-bellied plovers. It seemed that they came from the pale sun in the east and flying in perfect unison a flock of more than Hfty sped over my head, revealing a swift yet well remembered vision of their coal-black throats and breasts sharply con- trasting with the white belly and tail barred with black. As they rapidly drew away from me they arose and in their ascension the rays of the sun caught them squarely and cast a dazzling light on their white backs. From whence they had come or whither they were going I knew not. Quickly they passed out of sight, and the thought came to me as I trudged my way homeward that the element of chance which had brought such an unusual array of birds to me in one day was perhaps the foremost reason why bird-lovers each year answer the call of the feathered folk and untiringly follow the rivers and the paths through the woods. White her deck, white her sailsg White her stalwart hullg White as the sea bird's unflecked breastg White as the wing of the gull. She's come from the Indies, mystery land, Land of the Rajah and Princeg Laden with pearls and emeralds green And cargoes of rare Eastern chintz. KENNETH JEFFRIES

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THE LURE OF BIRDS visionary, but results from what I have seen with my own eyes, let me tell you of the many thrills which I experienced one day last spring while studying birds on White River below the city. I reached my favorite hunting ground at sunrise. The river, swollen by incessant spring rains, had flooded the adjoining nelds and the damp breeze, unwarmed by the slanting rays of the morning sun, chilled me to the bone. However, all personal discomfort was soon forgotten when I swept the scene with my field glasses. It was a sight which would have caused any amateur natur- alist to lose a heart beat, and trembling in my excitement I could scarcely hold the glasses to my straining eyes. The field was literally dotted with hundreds of beach-feeding birds of all varieties. Yellow-legs with bills proportioned to their long, thin legs waded knee deep in the Water, care- fully examining the submerged grasses for small Crustacea. In the shal- lower water many solitary sandpipers twinkled here and there in quest of food. Others stood teetering in one spot, uttering their clear whistle at frequent intervals. At a signal from their leader, these sandpipers arose from the feeding grounds in a compact mass. Twisting and wheeling as one individual bird, now displaying their white underparts which flashed like silver in the early morning sun and then showing their uniformly gray backs, they finally disappeared into a near-by marsh. Here they would rest until night when the long flight to their nesting-grounds in Canada would be resumed. Suddenly a marsh hawk, gray as the morning mist, sailed over the field. The feeding sandpipers and yellow-legs, fright- ened by this threatening terror above, scattered and skimmed over the fields, just as a group of bank swallows darting after insects sweep over a river. A silent wader towering above the greater yellow-legs around him caught my attention. I was unable to identify him at such a distance until he suddenly uttered his shrill plaintive cry, Pill, Will Willet. Elated, I instantly realized that the maker of this, unusual and to me unfamiliar note was a willet, a bird rarely seen in this region. I then moved off to a different part of the field and concealed myself behind a convenient tree in order not to alarm the feeding birds. This cautious move proved to be a wise one as two pair of semipalmated sand- pipers, one of the smallest species of their family, skimmed over the field and alighted a short distance from my feet. I still retain a Vivid picture of those sparrow-sized sandpipers which scurried about on frail legs in the shallow water, daintily picking minute animal forms from the mud with their delicate black bills. :W ggx i Y A i---- - - A X i tr.. Z -I i- a X ll,gEll, ll! 'L .X - m5 1 4l-iiax' ' ' ffl 1 - 'la-iafii i- . -Jiri mfg l I nl .4 - I Ng ' HY' X 7- 2. -I Q, X .T ' tif lll f - --H? lllxllh l ? g I ff 'l' Xl? ex ...f.T: -n X . '-T. ,, 5: ,1 Y. - w as T.- r 'iE! 9 ' Q l

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HOW JIMMY SPENT THE SABBATH -1- -1- 1-r- 1+ 1-1' 1+ 1+ 1-:- -1- 2'4-1-44-2-P14-A-Ze4-I-A-3-4-Pl-r MARY HOLMES r 4 4, Y 5 W3 rim K-if FAINT meow-ow-ow!'t Something tumbled out of the clothes closet, as Mrs. Brooks opened the door. Jimmie, she called as she hurriedly mounted a chair. Yes Maw-ther replied her ten year old son. Catch it she panted po nting to something ie semblmg a paper bag which was iollinff about on the iioor and from which weird ounds were issu ing Jimmie quickly picked up the tumbling object ll v cc K, - as , - - - L ff 1 L 1 1 ' ' It f i Q . , . . . 1 ' O . G D .J . ' . . . S . f ' and tearing open the bag revealed to Mrs. Brooks, a small kitten, rather dirty to be sure, but possessing a large amount of long, yellow fur, and an alarmingly shrill voice for a kitten of its size. Jimmie, said Mrs. Brooks, quite scandalized, where did that thing come from? Aw, Ma, I paid Bill Robinson eight cents and my best agate for her. Can't I keep it? Mercy, no. The dirty little thing. Take it away. Don't- but the kitten was gone. Jimmie ran after it to the kitchen, where, becoming quite terrified, the kitten ran under the refrigerator, only to fall into a pan of ice cold water. With a cry it jumped to the table, and landed in the middle of a pie, set to cool. Scrambling after the kitten, Jimmie rescued it from any more difiiculties. Seizing a towel he tried to rub the shivering creature dry. He placed it under the cook-stove and was walking away when the cook walked in and upset his plans again. Sure, Mr. Jimmie, she said, ye can't leave that ceature in my kitchen. Be gone with you this minute. Aw, shoot, said Jim as he picked up the kitten and left the room. He put poor puss on a chair in the library, and as he heard his mother say, Hurry up and put your coat on or you'll be late for church, he went to the hall-tree, and slowly donned his wraps. For some reason, perhaps he thought the kitten might be mistreated, J immie went back into the library, and as the kitten was small and his coat pocket was large, he slipped kitty in. She didn't seem to mind it, so he hurried out, and went serenely on his way to church with his parents. Arriving at church: the Brooks family went promptly to their pew at the front of the church, and taking off their wraps sat down to enjoy the service. Everything went well until the organist began to play. Suddenly a muflied cry was heard in-the direction of J immie's overcoat. It moved! Jim, said his father, What-, a small head peeped out of Jim's pocket, and a loud meow informed the organist of the disapproval of at least one listener in the congregation. Jimmie sat up very straight, though