tree with branches higher
than he could hold out to reach; so he fell back to the ground. Then
came the inexorable demands of breakfast, with which no one who has been
up since four o'clock will decline to comply. On my return, the
straggler was mounted on a post that held a tennis net, three or four
feet from the ground. One of the old birds was on the rope close by him,
and there I left them. Once more I saw him fall, but I concluded that
since he had learned to climb, and the parents would not accept my
assistance any way, he must take care of himself. I suppose he was the
youngest of the brood, who could not help imitating his elders, but was
not strong enough to do as they did. On the following day he was able to
keep his place, and he came to the ground no more.

From that day I saw, and, what was more evident, heard the jay babies
constantly, though they wandered far from the place of their birth.
Their voices waxed stronger day by day; from morning to night they
called vigorously; and very lovely they looked as they sat on the
branches in their brand-new fluffy suits, with their tails a little
spread, and showing the snowy borderings beautifully. Twenty-two days
after they bade farewell to the old home before my window they were
still crying for food, still following their hard-working parents, and,
though flying with great ease, never coming to the ground (that I could
see), and apparently having not the smallest notion of looking out for
themselves.

XIII.

BLUE JAY MANNERS.

Early in my acquaintance with the jay family, wishing to induce the
birds of the vicinity to show themselves, I procured a quantity of
shelled corn, and scattered a few handfuls under my window every night.
This gave me opportunity to note, among other things, the jay's way of
conducting himself on the ground, and his table manners. To eat a kernel
of dry corn, he flew with it to a small branch, placed it between his
feet (the latter of course being close together), and, holding it thus,
drew back his head and delivered a blow with that pickaxe beak of his
that would have broken a toe if he had missed by the shadow of an inch
the grain for which it was intended. I was always nervous when I saw him
do it, for I expected an accident, but none ever happened that I know
of. When the babies grew clamorous all over the place, the jay used to
fill his beak with the whole kernels. Eight were his limit, and those
kept the mouth open,