feet away, the other to the ground
close by. Then she came away, and we waited again. In a moment two more
ventured out and alighted on twigs near the nest. Then the mother came
home, and acted as surprised as though she had never expected to have
them depart. She went from a twig beside the tree to the nest, and back,
about a dozen times, as if she really could not believe her eyes.

Anxious to see everything that went on, we moved our seats nearer, but
this so disconcerted the pair that we did not stay long. It was long
enough to hear the wren baby-cry, a low insect-like noise, and to see
something that surprised and no less disgusted me, namely, every one of
those babies hurry back to the tree, climb the trunk, and scramble back
into the nest!--the whole exit to be begun again! It could not be their
dislike of the "cold, cold world," for a cold world would be a luxury
that morning.

Of any one who would go back into that crowded nest, with the
thermometer on the rampage as it was then, I had my opinion, and I began
to think I didn't care much about wrens anyway; we stayed, however, as a
matter of habit, and I suppose they all had a nap after their tremendous
exertion. But they manifestly got an idea into their heads at last, a
taste of life. After a proper amount of consideration, one of the
nestlings took courage to move again, and went so far as a twig that
grew beside the door, looked around on the world from that post for a
while, then hopped to another, and so on till he encircled the home
stump. But when he came again in sight of that delectable nest, he could
not resist it, and again he added himself to the pile of birds within.
This youth was apparently as well feathered as his parents, and, except
in length of tail, looked exactly like them; many a bird baby starts
bravely out in life not half so well prepared for it as this little
wren.

After nearly three hours of waiting, we made up our minds that these
young folk must be out some time during the day, unless they had decided
to take up permanent quarters in that hole in the stump, and what was
more to the point, that the weather was too warm to await their very
deliberate movements. So we left them, to get off the best way they
could without us, or to stay there all their lives, if they so desired.

The nest, which at first was exceedingly picturesque--and I had resolved
to bring it away, with the stump that held it--was now so demolished
that I no lo