Article May 13, 1916 Issue

Lessons from the Birds

HARRIET T. YOUNG

Some years ago we moved from a house where there were no trees into one that was surrounded with them. It was in the early springtime, before the leaves had unfolded, so that the birds could be plainly seen on the branches. My little daughter said one morning, "Mother, I have been watching every day, and not a single robin ever comes to our trees." I answered that God gives man dominion over the fowls of the air, and repeated the text, "Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart." Every morning after that the child would go to the window as soon as she awoke and repeat this statement. One day she came to me with glowing eyes and said, "Mother, our yard is full of robins."

Two of these friendly creatures built their nest close to the kitchen door, just as near the house as possible, and greeted us each morning with their cheery songs. When their little fledglings were old enough to leave the nest, I learned a valuable lesson from watching the father bird teach one of his babies to pick up worms. The little bird would reach for one or two, and then like a naughty child would refuse to make any further effort. The father bird always placed the worm in front of him, and talked and encouraged and pointed out the way; then if the little bird persisted in being contrary, he would pick up the worm for him and hurry away to bring another, patiently repeating the performance again and again in the same cheery spirit. He knew that finally the little bird would be willing to do his own work.

This was a lesson to me in patience, but I applied it then only to my children, while today it has a fuller meaning. I can look back and remember when I was in the same state of mind as the little robin, and my practitioner expressed the same cheerful, loving willingness that characterized the parent bird. Like Martha of old, I was "troubled about many things" and "cumbered about much serving." I might have picked up a good deal more for myself than I was willing to grasp. I seldom thought I had time to read the whole Lesson-Sermon; sometimes I read only one section of it, again not even that. When I needed help I wanted to go to the practitioner and take a treatment; I wanted to be fed. I telephoned to her whenever it suited my convenience,—just before church, or just as it was time for her to be starting to a lecture, or in the night,—and I never hesitated to take all the time I wanted to tell either my joys or sorrows; but her patience never wavered. She talked to me, encouraged me, and pointed the way. It is for this patient, loving service that I have such occasion to be grateful.

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