all. Even after the
rascals are flown one may find an anxious mother vainly striving to
satisfy her clamoring darlings, as she hurries from one to another with
some choice tidbit. A great hulking fellow, as big as his parents and
as gayly feathered, will stand crying like an infant, with wings
a-tremble and mouth a-gape, waiting for the food to be thrust down his
throat. Young robins are hardly less rapacious but far more tractable.
I was one day watching the debut of a family that lived in a
neighboring cedar tree. The mother bird was having an anxious time, for
each young one, as he spread his wings, made but a flap or two and fell
sprawling into the network of branches beneath the nest. One young
hopeful essayed a more ambitious flight and came down to the ground. He
had no thought of fear and, being of an inquiring turn of mind, came
hopping through the grass to see what I was like. Such a dear little
man, in polka dot pinafore and white ruffles! But "chuck, chuck,"
mother robin called a warning note, and like a flash he turned tail and
bolted into the bushes. I found him later perched on a branch within
easy grasp of my hand. He gazed at me for some minutes with eyes full
of baby wonder; then, remembering the maternal admonitions, he fled to
a higher branch. Of all feathered mothers the catbird is the noisiest.
She flits restlessly about, eying from every point of vantage the
intruder who dares to show an interest in her housekeeping. I
determined to sit it out one morning, pitting my patience against her
sympathy for the hungry young ones. After two hours of flutter and meow
the mother heart could no longer resist the appeal of the gaping yellow
mouths. With sudden resolution she dashed straight to Farmer Black's
gooseberry patch, seized a berry and returned in a flash. The luscious
morsel once divided among the small fry, however, she flew back to her
post of observation.

The turtledoves seem a sentimental lot. During the courting season an
enamored swain will sit for hours in silent contemplation of his own
graceful pose, or chanting softly, "I am alone--alone--alone." The nest
once built and the young ones hatched, he hovers about in tender
constancy, bringing food to the mother as well as to the babies, and
perching alongside of the nest as close as circumstances will allow.
The little people are carefully tended until they are well-nigh grown,
though they look most uninteresting objects. A young dove will si