Some men live for warlike deeds,
Some for women’s words.
John James
Lived to look at birds.
Pretty birds and funny birds,
All our native
From the little cedar
To the Great Horned Owl.
Let the wind blow hot or cold,
Let it rain or snow,
Everywhere the birds
Audubon would go.
Scrambling through a wilderness,
Floating down a stream,
All around
In a feathered dream.
Thirty years of traveling,
Pockets often bare,(Lucy Bakewell
Patched them up with care).
Followed grebe and meadowlark,
Saw them sing and splash.(Lucy Bakewell
Somehow raised the cash).
Drew them all the way they
In their habitats.(Lucy Bakewell
Sometimes wondered “Cats?”)Colored them and printed
In a giant book,“Birds of North America”—All the world said, “Look!”Gave him medals and degrees,
Called him noble names,—Lucy Bakewell
Kissed her queer John James.
