ethel’s words

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It’s spring tra-la and the poisoners are out. Go for a walk; you see them everywhere. Some of them wear masks; some may put their dogs indoors. Poisoners, do you know where your children are?

First they get the butterflies; they drop like flies. Next, they get the Yellow Warbler, tiny bird with the huge voice, exactly the color of a dandelion. Then comes the lesser goldfinch; once dead, there is so little of them, they are rarely seen.

The brilliant Western Tanager seems just about exterminated. House finches have been poisoned as such; Chickadees can’t last much longer. We can’t guess what happened to the Cedar Waxwings, the handsome Grosbeaks of more than one kind; the Audubon warbler--it goes on. The hummingbirds--oh, no, I can’t bear to think of it.

The blue Lazuli Bunting won’t get poisoned here; it was done elsewhere.

The charming sphinx moth has not visited our garden for years. (I don’t care who he was; I was enchanted by his evening visits.)

Oh, spring is here, tra-la, tra-la.

Ethel C. Hale