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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"

The snake-feeders are too full to feed
anything--even more sap to themselves. There's a lot of hard-backed
bugs--beetles, I guess--colored like the brown, blue, and black of a
peacock's tail. They hang on until the legs of them are so wake they
can't stick a minute longer, and then they break away and fall to the
ground. They just lay there on their backs, fably clawing air. When it
wears off a bit, up they get, and go crawling back for more, and they so
full they bump into each other and roll over. Sometimes they can't climb
the tree until they wait to sober up a little. There's a lot of big
black-and-gold bumblebees, done for entire, stumbling over the bark and
rolling on the ground. They just lay there on their backs, rocking from
side to side, singing to themselves like fat, happy babies. The wild
bees keep up a steady buzzing with the beating of their wings.
"The butterflies are the worst old topers of them all. They're just a
circus! You never saw the like of the beauties! They come every color
you could be naming, and every shape you could be thinking up.


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