o to the lawn with mamma, it is not to seek his
food--far from it! It is to follow her around, and call every moment or
two for something to eat. The idea that his individual exertions have
anything to do with the food supply seems never to occur to him. He
expects the fat morsels to fall into his mouth as they always have, and
why should they not? He will soon be taught, for even baby-birds have to
be educated.

We have assumed in our easy-going way that birds "toil not" because they
"do not spin," because they have not surrounded themselves with a
thousand artificial wants, as we have. But the truth is that nobody can
work harder than a pair of robins, for example, with four or five hungry
mouths to fill, and every mouthful to be hunted up as it is wanted. No
one would guess what an ever-yawning cavern a baby robin's mouth is,
till he has tried to bring up a nestling himself. I once kept two small
boys busy several days at high wages, digging worms for one young bird,
and then I believe he starved to death.

The training of our winged neighbors is most interesting, but so
cautiously carried on that we rarely see it, though we may often hear
the robin, oriole, whip-poor-will, and many others receive instruction
in singing. I have once or twice surprised young birds at their lessons,
as for instance, a pewee family learning to hover over the daisies, a
beautiful operation of their parents which I never tired of watching. I
was behind a blind when they came, a little flock of five or six. They
were very playful, and kept near together, flying low over the grass,
alighting in a row on the edge of a pail, coming up on the
clothes-line, banging awkwardly against the house, and in every way
showing ignorance and youth. I studied one for a long time as he
balanced himself on the clothes-line and looked off at the antics of his
brothers trying to learn the hovering. One of the parents flew out over
the tall flowers, poising himself gracefully, his body held perfectly
erect, legs half drawn up, turning his head this way and that, hanging
thus in the air several seconds in one spot, then suddenly darting off
to another like a humming-bird. The little ones in a row close together
on a low branch of a shrub, looked on, and in a moment two or three
sallied out and tried the same movement. They could fly well enough, but
when they tried to pause on wing the failure was disastrous. Some
tumbled out of sight into the daisies, others