The Ostrich has his wings, but not for flight;

He flies on foot when danger is in sight;

His mate lays eggs upon the desert reaches

And "sands" them over when the leopard screeches.

The eggs, thus mounded, fall an easy prey

To feline foragers who slink that way.

The Ostrich, thus, guards not his nest: instead

He hides, in burning sands, his shameless head

And lets his monoplane and rudder be

Stripped of their plumage by an enemy.

Ostriches should Carry

Their Eggs in a Basket

And use their Feathers

For Dusting over the Desert.

The Squirrel is quite a different kind of fowl:

He works while others sleep, the sly old owl!

And stores up food, against the rainy day,

In secret nooks, from forest thieves away.

When winter comes, or when besieged by foes,

Securely housed he feasts and thumbs his nose

And ridicules starvation: he's immune!

While others, shiftless, sing another tune.

The Squirrel, you see, is much misfortune spared

Improvident Nuts

Should Tear a Leaf

From the Squirrel's Diary.

A Heifer on the Railroad Crossing stood

Chewing Contentment's Cud, as heifers should,—

When, rushing madly, "late again," there came

The Noonday Mail. The Heifer was to blame

For choosing her position, I would say,

Because the Engine had the Right of Whey.

The Cow was unprepared! Her switching tail

Failed signally to flag the Noonday Mail.

But why keep beefing over milk that's spilled?

She heeded not the sign and thus was killed.

Heifers with Unprotected

Flanks should not Invite

Rear-guard Actions.

The Busy Bee improves the shining hours

And gathers honey from the fragrant flowers.

When Winter comes, forsaking field and rill,

He hivernates, but lives in clover still.

While Famine stalks without, his Home, Sweet Home

Is stored with tempting food from floor to dome.

He never lacks, nor has to buy, but cells

His surplus food gleaned from the flower-fringed dells.

A thrifty fellow is the Busy Bee

And fortified against Emergency.

A Bee's Ears

Contain no Wax

And he Saves his Combings

Against the Baldness of Old Age.

The Mule is well equipped but lacks the mind;

His strategy is in his heels, behind.

If pointed wrong, his practice is not dreaded,

But kick he will, no matter how he's headed.

With foresight lacking, hindsight to the fore,

He'll be just simple Mule forevermore;

Without the range or sight he'll blaze away

And thwart his purpose with his brazen bray.

If well-directed effort were his cult

No fortress could withstand his catapult.

A Mule should Conserve

His Ammunition and

The Burglar, have you noticed? never troubles

To look for petty loot in obscure hovels.

He packs his kit and steals adown the road

To Gaspard Moneybags' renowned abode.

He knows the house-plan ("inside" dope, no

doubt)

And when he's in, old Moneybags is out.

But Jimmy does not dent the window-sash;

He enters thru the door and gets the cash.

Prepared? Well, yes! He knew just where to look,

For Nora hung the key upon the hook.

Team-work is

The Handmaiden

Of Efficiency.

It pays to be Prepared, you see, and so

The Snail in Armored Car goes safe, tho' slow;

And Alligators in their Coats of Mail

Withstand assaults where those, defenceless, fail.

The Tortoise totes his Caripace around

And dwells in safety where his foes abound;

While Wasps, with poisoned javelins, defend

Successfully their offspring to the end.