| Transcript |
THE OUTDOOR NATURE CLUB of HOUSTON, TEXAS
No. 7
Second Series
BULLETIN
Itide a Hobby and
Defy "Depressions"
By R. A. SELLE
Hobby riders are happy people. Hobbies, like salvation, are free—free for
everybody. The thrill of youth, gay, carefree, light-hearted; the elixir of an object
in life—there is grandeur in a rugged
landscape. Every man, woman or child
needs at least one hobby.
The sooner you learn to ride one, the
sooner your eyes will be opened; you will
wake up to the profound secret of worldly
happiness and contentment. Without a
hobby, you miss the real zest of life.
When the hobby fits, it is more than a
"•>rm of recreation; it is a kind of mind-
\ urance, a safe and effective antidote
r world-weariness, sadness of heart or
loneliness of spirit; it gives you courage
to face difficulties; no time for doubts or
misgivings, no question as to whether
life is worth living, no loss of confidence
in men, or women; your best girl is not
going to be taken by some other man;
all things will turn out right.
Prescription for nervousness, sleeplessness, loneliness, homesickness, any attack
of "nerves": Get astride a good hobby
and canter down the road to happiness,
hearts as light as moonbeams. No dull
days, no worries, no mooning over mistakes or lost opportunities. All is well.
Everything is for the best.
Riding a hobby, "sitting on top of the
world!" You are astride the universe. A
hobby can give you a melody that can
put color and romance in a sandy waste,
*urn a scorching desert into a paradise.
| lect your mount. Start today. Culti-
" ;e a keen and abiding interest in some
Jier activity than your regular calling.
You have something to live for, something to work for. Your outlook bears
the rose-tinge of optimism, hope and
faith. Your step is firm; you walk erect,
chin up, eyes sparkling with keen interest; you are an important part in the
scheme of things.
Blessed is the comradeship of a well-
groomed hobby.
The Call of the South
By FRANCES POINDEXTER
There's a charm all its own in the Southland;
There's a message that speaks without
words
In the gentle caress of the sunbeams
And the pure, lilting notes of the birds;
In the flowers that bloom so profusely,
And the moonlight, so witchingly
bright,
That wooes with a sweetness insistent,
And lulls with a sense of delight.
There is friendship and trust in the
Southland;
There are hearts that beat loyal and
true,
With a sympathy helpful and human
That is ready to reach out to you.
All the hours are not wasted in striving
After glittering baubles and toys;
But a broader conception is given
To life and its limitless joys.
There's a vastness and breadth in the
Southland
That allures with its promises wide.
There are memories, hallowed and tender,
That awaken the patriot's pride.
There's a something elusive, yet potent,
That inspires to the heights yet unsealed,
And that whispers a message of courage
To the brother who thinks he has
failed.
Yes, a wonderful charm has the Southland,
With her murmuring, moss-laden trees,
Where the fragrant magnolia and jasmine
Lend their perfume to each passing
breeze;
Where the broad fields of grain and of
cotton,
And the calm browsing herds, as they
roam,
All unite in a summons compelling
To the land of contentment—and home.
—From "All the Year 'Round."
To a "Mocker"
By THE VOICE OF THE VOICELESS
Theo. D. Meyer
"God's in His heaven; all's right with
the world," sang Pippa in Browning's
poem.
It was Sunday, 4:30 p. m., March, 1934.
In tune with nature, a mocking bird
was singing his roundelay, as he sat on
a slender branch of a green shrub at the
(Continued on page 2)
Texas-Panhandle
Birds
By MARILE LOCKHART
Canyon, Texas
Among the birds of the Texas Panhandle, none are more beautiful than the
"tsipping" cardinal. In the very scenic
Palo Duro Canyon he "tsips" with all his
might. The lady cardinal seems to do
the nest-building here, and Mr. Redbird
assists by eagerly watching — a very
charming and vivid flame amid the dark
greenery reminds one of a blackish red
rose. To his rather drab-colored mate he
must be a sublime wonder as he sits on
a twig singing gloriously a chorus of
varied notes, his sweetest song.
"In the dark foliage of the cedar tree
Shone out and sang for me."
Mr. Cardinal is a devoted father. How
he cherishes his fledglings! Recently I
had a lovely picture of him as he and his
two youngsters played about the old well
in the grounds of the Sam Houston old
home at Huntsville. This was about the
first of July, as I returned by automobile
from a winter spent on Galveston Island,
to my home in Canyon. Papa Cardinal
was very excited over his two children.
How grand he seemed to feel as he
taught them the first rudiments of the
sweet symphony of life. His blackish,
flaming red coat contrasted noticeably
with the softer tone-color of his offspring, who were for all the world trying
to imitate the parent bird. Mrs. Redbird
was nowhere in sight, though I'm sure
she was finding food for them, and I
could not wait for her return. It was a
gorgeous picture, that portrayed a wonderful symbol I'll never forget.
The bonnie bluebird—"Little Boy Blue"
—comes for a while each spring in his
flight to the south. He lingers long
enough to form blue clouds in the white
atmosphere of the plains.
Woodland doves in their smoke-gray
beauty are here for always. I have
watched them among the elm and hack-
berry trees, which are so thickly entwined with wild grape vine in the Can-
continued on page 2)
|
