In the meadow near the pond, Pa stayed on the branch and Ma in the house as the photographer tried to simultaneously swat mosquitoes and keep the camera still. They quietly protected their babes in the box, never leaving in spite of my lurky-jerky loitering. Though I didn't hear it, they have a sweet song.
Henry David Thoreau (whom Louisa May Alcott called "the Genius of the Wood") said:
I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance that I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.
You think if a sparrow landed on Mr. Thoreau's shoulder while he was hoeing, a swallow or sparrow or bluebird might land on mine while swatting? I doubt it. Emerson said Thoreau would sit so still the birds came after a while and watched him.
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