BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

Evening Star, Issue 22442, 12 September 1936, Page 6

BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

NOT FOR OURSELVES ALOHE ‘ j Winners of fcotnpetitiohs ' published ,on Saturday, I .August 8, are;—Under 10: Graham Janies Sleeman. Roslyn, Dunedin." Over 10: Cecilia Wellbourne,' St, David street,' Dunedin, N.l. Congratulations. . The winners, of, competitions published on August Id are:—Under 10: Lance Guytpn, ; St. Clair,' Dunedin, S.W.I. (the largest number .of,- words composed from ALPHABET). ; Over wards,.,32 Ann, street, Ruslyn, N.W4* A swarm 1 , of fat," "lazy young bees <b.b;b.) - ' ; Set out to disturb the sweet peas (R.P.R.); j ; k ■ When-I asked them why (¥.), " With a wink of the eye (I.), They said; “ Oh, we’re quite at our ease” (E.E.E.). I said: “ If you harm those dear peas (P.P.P.I. Or continue the sweet things to tease (T.T.T.), Then the first little bee (B.) , That I happen to see (CO Shall be banished straight.' over the seas”, (C.C.C.). Congratulations. THE COMPETITIONS «r- ---__ • i The under-tens have, to find what was in Mother Hubbard’s cupboard, and the over-tens have a new puzzle about ages. Sond your letters to Big Brother Bill, care the ‘Evening Star’ newspaper, Stuart street, Dunedin. Be _ sure to mark the envelope “ Competition.” t OLD MOTHER HUBBARD’S ' CUPBOARD. : (Under 10 years; prize, Is.) j - What was in Mother Hubbard’s cup- , board? The reason why the cupboard was bare is, as everybody knows, that Tom, the Piper’s son, vVho stole the; pig, also emptied Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. But what did he steal? Here are the things, all jumbled up. , , Cain you find them? Stanheftsp. Chinekc. Pinse. Daerb. Separg. Maerc-Cei. Tberut. . . • ■ .. A PUZZLE ABOUT AGES. (Over 10 years; prize, Is 6d.) ! Can you find the answer to this puzzle ? It looks a little, like arithmetic, but is quite interesting. _ i Johm Smith, whose age is 45, has a son aged 12. When will John Smith be three times as old as his son?.

A PLACE FOR BIRD LOVERS i THE PLEDGE.—“ I promise to care for wild birds, especially New Zealand native birds, to feed them ■ in. winter, and-to protect them ■at all times. .1 also; promise to protect our native trees and bush, .and at no time to assist in their damage or destruction, since thejy are-, the natural ■ home of our native birds.” ; Name...., Full'Postal Addre55......... Those who wish to join the Bird Club must sign the above pledge, also send Is in postal note or stamps, together with a stamped addressed envelope, to Big Brother Bill, care the ‘ Evening Star ’ newspaper, Stuart street, Dunedin. Bp ’sure to mark the envelope “ Bird Club.” PARERA—THE GREY DUCK’S STORY. (Continued.) At times we forget our habitual caution and give forth a loud “ quack, quack, quack!” of delight. In those swamps or oat stubble we are very happy. In the morning, while as yet it jis not quite light, we rise up and go* swishing through the darkness straight for home. On seeing the water gleaming below we dive down, quacking loudly, but we never settle immediately. Oh, dear, no. Wo delight in swooping to the water’s brink, sometimes _ just ruffling the surface, then up again to fly several times in a mile-wide circle ere we drop down to skitter along the surface, come to a halt, duck and splash in the pleasant water, preen our feathers, and afterwards sleep; usually on the bank, but often on a log or nigger head, or the water itself. Usually we build our nests, well hidden, close to a creek or lake. Sometimes we select a pond, a mere pool of water miles from any main creek. When we do this we always lead the young ducks steathily overland, a day or so after hatching, to a bigger volume of water.

Our nests are hard to find. We like to select a spot close to the water overgrown with gorse, flax, tussock, cuttygrass, or some similar substance. The nest itself is usually formed of grass or dead flax, and closely lined with the breast feathers of the duck. Anything from five to 20 eggs are laid, although 12 or 14 is the usual number. Our eggs are greenish blue, and we always cover them well, even when leaving the nest for only a little while. A month is taken in brooding the eggs; the hatching usually takes place from late November until well on in February. There are, we shall say, a dozen of us in a brood. How proud our mother

looks as she stealthily leads us down to the water for our first swim, and how we revel in the water 1 She teaches us to feed upon the insects dinging'to*the rushes and watercress; .to dabble and delve among the duckweed. We grow rapidly. At first we are very yellow, but shortly our colour • begins to change to grey. We become more shabby. Big quill feathers begin to form in our wings: we grow bigger and more heavy, and shortly we can fly—just a little, but we improve rapidly. . . , Soon we are flying really well; our mother has forsaken us, and we ‘go to Jpin the main flock, mostly of drakes, but the ducks and their healthy youngsters are joining in. ' And now you will say that life is just a repetition of all I have said. Well, it isn’t. Not by , a long way. It used to be, so I am told, but not now. • Oh, if only we had some slight knowledge of the approach of that fatal first day! But still, perhaps we have. Instinct is beginning to warn us, and about April many of us depart for secret hiding places far back ,in the bush. Then, too, there are places, sanctuaries —Where we are not moles*ted. How we bless those places! But we do not all know of that early May day morning, when sportsmen _ rise early, and with loaded guns await us in the grey dawn. (To be continued.) A LEGACY FOR BIRDS. A tiny addition to the noble things being done in England by the Pilgrim Trust, founded to apply the noble benefaction of Mr Edward Harkness, a generous American lover of opr land, takes the lovely, form of a bequest for a grofip of birds. , . Nineteen years, ago an American lady, Mrs Alexander Angus, of New jersey, came to .London to recover, from the effects of a sever© illness,, and, fpimj delight in feeding the birds which, frequent the Embankment Gardens. , Sh© .repeated her visits during successive summers, and every year renewed her service to the birds. she has died,-and her husband has. decided to perpetuate, her gifts; ,he. has established-a- fund to reward, two men who.will give daily doles to. the birds - in the sam.e' gardens during flia summer months each_ year corresponding with the period in. which Mrs Alexander was a visitor there. How long will such a trust last? That depends on the sum invested and the care,with which the deed _of gift is drawn up. We have charities still in existence in England which have been, operative for centuries, since before America was discovered. We celebrate this year the 800th anniversary of the foundation of the Hospital of St. Cross at Winchester by Bishop de Blois, grandson of the (Jonqlieror, who provided not only home, food A and raiment for 13 poor men, whose successors still enjoy his charity, but food and drink for passing wayfarers.' A BIRD’S BRAVE FLIGHT FROM -AFRICA. How strong must be the urge which drives migrating • birds back "to their, northern homes has been proved by a Hungarian stork which returned last spring with an African arrow sticking out of its body. Where; and why it was shot at no one will ever know. No vital part was injured, evidently, but there musV have been enormous loss of strength and vitality. How formidable and, frightening must have seemed the long flight back over seas and lands, against head winds, and other hardships; perhaps, even against the advice of its companions. We know that, storks commune with each other; and wo can ijnagiqe some wise old stork voicing a warning: “My son, it is hard,'l-know; but since this untoward thing has hapoened to you there ■ is nothing for it but to stay behind. You will never make the journey. Better stay and 'nurse yourself back to health here than drown on the -journey.” But who ever listened to ,the words of cold wisdom when- he heard the voice of his own heart? Our stork didn’t. Courageously it .set out with the others, and, incredible as it may seem, did not drop on the way. It arrived in the little Hungarian village where its nest was; a very sick stork, it is true, hut a live one. And now, though still a semi-invalid, it goes about its business of frog-catching and of feeding its growing brood like any other parent. Perhaps even it finds compensation for its disabilities in the knowledge that it has become an object of interest—one of the sights of the village, in fact; as a man would be who had .‘returned to his landlubber fellows after losing an arm or a leg fighting pirates.

THE POSTIE'S BAG

49 Kaikorai Valley road, Dnuedin, N.W.2. Dear Big Brother Bill, —This is the second letter that I have written to you, and also my second try at your puzzles. I am sending in this week’s competition, and hope to be correct. I went to Higbcliff for a week of the term, and enjoyed myself very much. One day, while my friend and I were out walking we came across a fallen tree trunk, which was rather rotten. On going up to it we saw large, black

toadstools, ns it seemed, growing on the side. Would you be kind enough to tell me what they were? I knocked one off with my foot, but only rotten wood, fell out. That is all about my holidays. I have no pets at home, but the little boy nest door has two guinea pigs, and will soon be getting some hens. As that is all the news just now, I will close.—l remain, yours truly, Peggy Booth. [Many thanks for your letter, Peggy Booth. Your name is in the Honour Square for,, neat writing.. The, black fungus that you saw on the tree, trunk was Nature at work destroying the dead tree. That is the work of all fungus. You would not be able to see the roots of the fungus, but they are always busy breaking down the old wood into small nieces. Soon the old dead tree will be broken down into soil again, and the fungus will have done its work. Guinea pigs make good pets, Peggy, but hens will bo : more useful. They lay the breakfast eggs. Write again soon.]

WHY IT IS WARMER TO WEAR DARK CLOTHES THAN WHITE ONES.—These two boys are discussing this problem on a cold winter day. Their clothes are made of the same kind of cloth, but the boy in black is comfortably warm, whereas his friend in white is shivering. The

reason is that the black cloth ab-soi-bes a great proportion of the' rays from the sun and conducts their heat to the body, as demonstrated in diagram 1. Contrariwise; the rays of the sun will be largely reflected if they strike white cloth (see circle II.), and only a small proportion of them will be transmitted to the body.

Mansford Town, Port Chalmers, September 5, 1936. Dear Big Brother Bill, —May I join your happy family. I go to the Port Chalmers School, and am in Standard 11. I am very fond of birds and have rescued a few from pussy. One cold day I caught him with a wax-eye in his mouth on his way to the. lawn to play with it, but I took it from him and put it into a basket. The next day it was quite lively, so I put it on a branch of a tree and watched from the window; In a few minutes “ Waxie ” had called many of his mates around him and gladly flew away singing, a song of joy. Have you ever seen a wnite blackbird, Brother Bill? One day one was seen near Mussel Bay; it flow down from a' tree to pick up a' crust. It was all white except for two Mack feathers in its tail. I would like to become a member of the Bird Lovers’ Club, so I am enclosing Is in stamps for a book and badge.—Your affectionate . bairn, Joyce Keenan. [Thank you for’ your letter, Joyce Keenap. Your name is in the honour square because of the interesting letter sent to Brother Bill. It was splendid of you to rescue the wax-eye, Joyce. A white blackbird is a strange looking object, Joyce, but is is quite well known what .has happened. Colour comes, from certain thing's in the blood of animals, birds, and insects, and these things are missing in a white blackbird," In the same way, there are white cats, i horses, rabbits, and even elephants. They are called albinos (al-bin-o,), and lack all colour. The pink eyes of a rabbit and other albinos are caused by the reflection of the animal’s blood. Write again soon.] 46 Humber street, Oamaru. August 30, 1936. Dear Big Brother Bill, —We are having our school holidays now, but I am not going away these holidays, as I am going into the hospital on Tuesday to get my adenoids and tonsils out. My hens and bantams are laying well just now. I have plenty of time to look after them when there is no school. Last week I went to the gardens to fly my aeroplane, and quite a number of boys were watching me. I have a big yacht, but I have not had it out this year yet.—Yours sincerely, John Park. [Thank you for your letter, John Park, Brother Bill was glad to receive it. He is sorry to know about the hospital experience, and hopes that you are well over it. by this time. It appears that adenoids and tonsils are like teeth, given to us so that the doctors can take them away again. You appear to be a very fortunate chap, John, with an aeroplane, a yacht, and bantams at home. Write again soon.J 77 Filleul street, Dunedin, C.l. August 31, 1936. Dear Big Brother Bill, —1 would like to bo a member of your happy band of bairns. I am in Standard V. at the Normal School. _ We have a wireless at home, and I listen to your talks every night. I am entering for the competition for over-tens. I have just come down from Auckland to live. I am 11, and I have lived in Auckland all my life. I will close now with lots of love to the aunts and uncles, not forgetting yourself.—Yours truly, Phyllis Lamb. [Welcome to the ‘Evening Star’ family, Phyllis Lamb. Last Friday’s snow would bo quite a new experience, Phyllis, if you have just come down from Auckland. We seem to get some cadi year in Dunedin, and it is good

fun. Did you make a snow man? There was plenty for everybody this fall, and, Brother Bill saw a good few snow men about the city. While the storm was on there were also a good many men compelled to be in it, who were smothered enough to look like walking snow men. Write again soon.] Union street, Milton, August 22. Dear Brother Bill, —At school wc have just finished a term, and have started the holidays. lam pleased, for Ido not like school. 1 still have my pigeons. Lots of them have eggs and some of them have wee babies. The babies are very ugly, witli big beaks, big eyes, and long legs. Have you ever seen any baby pigeons? Well, I must close now. —Yours sincerely, Marjorie Wells. [Thank you for your letter. Marjorie Wells. School is really a good place, Marjorie, although you may not think so. Brother Bill is very sure that the day will come when you will be glad of all that you learned there. Yes, Brother Bill saw some baby pigeons in a loft belonging to a .mail who bred them for sale. The quaintest thing about them was not their big beaks, eyes and long legs, but the manner in which they fed. It was very strange to see the young one thrust its beak down the mother’s throat. Of course, there are wild birds who feed their young in this wav, but it was strange ot see it really done before one’s eyes. Write again soon.] Mosgiel, September 3, 1936.. Dear Big Brother Bill, —As it is snowing to-day T thought I would write you a letter. Yesterday I jiut somo honey outside on a sauocr, and I counted 16 sparrows eating it. We have a strawberrv tree, and when the berries are ripe the birds love to eat them. I suppose the birds feel cold when winter comes, but they have their feathers to keep themselves warm. My sister has a pair of love birds and also quite a few canaries and one goldfinch mule. As I have no more to tell you I must close.—With love from Valda Crozier. [Thank you for your letter, Valda Crozier, The birds were cold last Friday, and hungry, too. You can always tell when birds are suffering from the cold ; they put on their overcoats. They do this by fluffing their feathers until they appear like round balls. This has the effect of raising the feathers from the tiny body, and the heat from the bird’s body fills the space between, which is Tike an extra coat, and very warm. The old rhyme about the robin and the north wind snow ends: He’d stay in the barn and keep himself warm. And tuck his head under his wing. Which means that the bird tucks his bead into the warmth, just as some bairns slip their head under the bedclothes on a very cold night. Write again soon.] THE ELEPHANT MEETS A FRIEND Contrary to the common idea, founded! on the human love of dogs, the dog appears not to be the most intelligent of animals, if we are to believe an experiment at the New York Zoo. This experiment has placed the higher animals in the following order of intelligence, reading downward: — ‘ Chimpaznee. Bearer. Orang-utan. Horse. Elephant. Sea-lion. Gorilla. Bear. Dog. Cat. The dog lover will point out, however, that the dog has more than intelligence; he is affectionate and faithful unto death. The elephant takes a high place in the list. He, too, is capable of affection, as many authentic anecdotes attest. Wo will not, however, pledge ourselves entirely to believe the story of the gratitude of an elephant who became a circus performer. This rcm arkable quadruped, the story says, received .medical attention from a hunter in the African wilds. Years passed,, the elephant was captured and trained for circus life, and the circus was performing in Paris when the sagacious animal recognised his friend in a white man sifting in the low-priced seats. Trumpeting with joy, he curled his trunk round his rescuer’s waist and deposited him in the front row of the stalls! DAVID IN LUCK As David *was running out of the house his mother called him back. “ I Want, you to take my book and change it at the library,’’ she said. “ All right.” said David, He wondered if his mother had forgotten that ho had promised to spend the morning with his friend Jim. “ Ask for a book called ‘ Four Green. Trees,’ ” his mother said. “It has a yellow back, and they are keeping it for me.” . David took the one to be returned and set off. “ I’ll run all the way,” he decided, “ then perhaps 1 shan’t bo very laic.” It was a very hot little boy that arrived at the library and asked for the book.

“ I’m very sorry,” said the girl behind the counter. “ I’m afraid there has been some mistake. All the copies of ‘ Pour Green Trees ’ arc out at present.” _ “ Oh, dear,” sighed David. “ Perhaps you would) care to take another instead?” suggested the girl, smiling. “ I’d better go back and ask, I think,” said David. Feeling hotter than ever he left the library and crossed the road. Some why in front of him was a lady carrying a bag. Suddenly she stopped, took her purse out of the bag, and disappeared into a shop. As she did so a pocket handkerchief fluttered to the ground. David 1 ran forward, picked it up, and followed her inside. To his surprise he saw that she was Jim’s mother. “ I’m so glad I dropped it,” she cried, as she took the. handkerchief and thanked him. “ You see, an uncle of Jim’s turned! up unexpectedly this morning and has taken him off to town, so you wouldn’t have found him in.” “ Lucky James,” said David enviously. “ Thai’s what I thought,” she agreed, “ so I decided to come along in the car and see if you and your mother would care to come out for a picnic with me.” “What a lovely idea!” cried David, his eyes shining. “ I’ll take you back in the car,” said Jim’s mother. “ But, to save time, would you run across to the library with this book?” As she spoke she pulled out a yellow book from her bag. David saw the words ‘ Four Green Trees ’ on the cover. _ David stared. “ Why. that’s the hook mollicr wants,” he cried. How they laughed!

“ I’m more than ever glad I dropped my handkerchief,” said Jim’s mother. They th>y got into the car and away they went, THE SNAKE AND ITS FRIEND "We could hardly imagine boa constrictors to bo creatures of sentiment, yet one we have just heard of has shown in an unmistakable way its devotion to a man he considers its friend. A little while ago Herr Thomsen, the head of the Zoological Garden in Svendborg, Denmark, was ill and had to ho taken to hospital. While he was away it was impossible to get the groat boa constrictor to take any nourishment. ■ The keepers tried in turn to tempt it with every delicacy favoured by boa constrictors, but in vain. It was a veritable hunger strike, After a few weeks Herr’ Thomsen came back, and the great snake immediately livened up and took from his hand whatever he offered. And that this was no mere coincidence is proved by the fact that when Herr Thomsen went away to recuperate the same thing happened again. The snake refused to eat. Now its friend is back for good, and the days of fast have ended.

THIRTY-SIX HOURS AMONG SHARKS

Another terrible tale of the sea has been told, but it has a happy ending for three of the four men concerned. They were fishing in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Mahe, in the Seychelles Islands, when a violent squall upset" the boat. One of them was drowned, and throughout the night the, other three clung to the upturned boat while the squall turned into a raging storm. When dawn broke they found they were drifting out to Sea. With great courage, one of them, a Creole called France Wilson, seized a plank and swam with it to the island of Mamello, but he found the sea too mountainous to attempt a landing among the coral, and there was nothing to do but swim on to Praslin Island, about 16 miles away. All through the night he lay on his crude raft, being tossed with the waves in a sea teeming with sharks.

Meanwhile a passing vessel had sighted his companions and rescued them; but they were too exhausted to think of France Wilson, and no one knew that a third man might be tossing about in the sea. Not till 36 hours later did some fishermen on the beach at Praslin notice something out on the water which they took for a turtle. The put out to sea and found it was the Creole, miraculously still alive, and now quite recovered from his fearful experience. THE FAITHFUL DOGS In Queensland recently a drover was thrown from his horse and his hip broken. He lay immovable -on the ground knowing that he might not be discovered for many days. As night fell he managed to rake together a few twigs and start a fire", but it was only a very small one and soon the wild dingoes began to circle round the lonely sufferer. His two dogs immediately came to the rescue. They kept the dingoes at bay, and during the cold hours of the night they snuggled against him on both sides, keeping him warm, and helping him to keep up his courage. It was 20 hours before he was found and his faithful dogs were still watching their master. GERALD LEARNS BETTER A GOOD-NIGHT TALE Gerald had gone from London to spend his summer holiday with' his aunt in the country. The. boys welcomed him in their games on the village green. Then came the dreadful day when the gander rushed across the green, it seemed to Gerald, straight for him. He screamed, and ran to the others, who only laughed and called him ■‘Cowardly Custard!” They forgot that he was a town boy. and unused to country life and animals. After that Gerald played no more •on the green, but wandered alone in the fields. If a field had animals in it he went all round it close to the hedge, in the hope that they would not notice him. • One day he was doing this in a field in which there were sheep, and suddenly he heard a loud bleating- close to him, and there in a hollow lay a sheep on its back with all four feet in the air. Something made Gerald go closer. The animal was struggling furiously and seemed to be choking. Looking at its frightened eyes, Gerald thought, “ Perhaps it really can’t get upl” Gathering up his courage, he moved right up to the sheep, and, using both his hands, gave it a hard push on its side. It rolled over easily and scrambled to its feet. Gerald heard a shout and saw a man running down the field towards him. As he came up he said: — “ Well done, Sonny 1 You have some sense.” “I didn’t know if it was right,” said Gerald timidly. “ Why, yes,” said the farmer, “ quite right. Don’t you know that if a sheep gets on its back it can’t get up by itself? If no one comes along to help it the poor thing may die in its struggles.” Gerald felt very proud, and the next moment he felt even prouder when the farmer said : “ You seem to have the makings of a farmer, so what about riding home with me on my hay wagon?” A few minutes later Gerald was lying full length on top of a load of hay; and later still the farmer let him drive the empty wagon bade to the field.