SPRING MORNING

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21906, 15 September 1934, Page 4 (Supplement)

SPRING MORNING

By GWEN GRAHAM. Silverdale. (Age IG.) (Original.)

A3 the sun rose the tortured trees gradually ceased their spasmodic twitchings, though they continued to rock gracefully in the morning wind. The Dawn Fairy drew aside the curtain of grey, frowning clouds that had screened the Day King while he slumbered. It was morning. Nature stirred. > An adventurous "cotton-tail" hopped out of his burrow for his daily "physical jerks." His mother thrust her head out and cautioned him not to go far, as Bucephalus, the black and white terrier, was fond of rabbit. Peter Rabbit hopped off on his morning tour. He loped up to the house of Mrs. Groundlark, who immediately slipped out and began running through the wet grass in an endeavour to persuade tho stranger than her nest was really a long way off. Petor Rabbit peeped at the three eggs in the nursery. " H'm! One more than yesterday." Then, raising his voice, "Mrs. Groundlark! It's only Peter Rabbit! " Mrs. Groundlark rushed back, feeling rather silly.

A little sparrow swooped past, carrying in his beak a crust of bread which he was striving to keep, in spite of the persecution of the flock of birds, large and small, that pursued him. He made a perfect landing and was just about to commence a hasty meal when a blackbird darted down upon him. Whew! That was close! Mr. Sparrow reversed, then, climbing steeply, he hurriedly sought another clime. Peter Rabbit cocked his ears suddenly. A little boy carrying a basket had come into the paddock. Bother these humans and their mushrooms! Peter loped away—but not toward home—oh, dear, no! Rapidly ho sprinted into the bush, where a strange sight riveted his attention. A big, fat, green, baby bird was perched on a little twig which creaked ominously beneath his prodigious weight. "Ah —ah—ah! " said the green, baby bird imperatively. A little, grey "rifleman" flittered up beside him and dropped a fat worm into the gaping beak. With never so much as a "thank you," the big, fat, green, baby bird began his "ah—ahing" all over again. Afar off a shrill yapping commenced. Bucephalus! Peter Rabbit wrinkled his nose; then he was off. He soared over a gorse-bush and galloped for home, arriving in time to accompany the family to Mr. Farmer's Kitchen Garden Cafe for breakfast.