in a
very sweet voice, but so low it could not be heard a dozen feet away.
There was little variation in the tones, but it was rapidly delivered,
with longer and shorter intervals and varying inflections, a genuine
whisper-song such as most birds that I have studied delight in. It did
not please madam, his mate; she listened, looked, and then rushed at the
singer, and I regret to say, they fell into a "scrimmage" in the grass,
quite after the vulgar manner of the sparrow.

They soon returned to their duty of feeding the baby behind the oak leaf
screen. Both came very nearly at the same time; each one on arriving,
administered a significant "poke" behind the leaf, then indulged in
several eccentric movements in their jerky style, dashed after a fly,
stood a full minute staring at me, and at last flew. This programme was
scarcely varied. Inoffensive as I was, however, the birds plainly did
not relish my spying upon them, and when I returned from luncheon, they
had removed their infant. For a day or two, I heard on the farther side
of the grove the sweet, mournful "pe-o-wee" with which this bird
proclaims the passage of another insect to its fate, and then it was
gone, and I saw and heard them no more.

One morning I rose at dawn and seated myself behind my blind to spy upon
the doings of the early risers. On this particular morning I first
heard the tender notes of "the darling of children and bards"--the
bluebird baby. The cry was almost constant; it was urgent and clamorous
beyond anything I ever heard from "April's bird." I even doubted the
author till I saw him. The thin and worn looking mother who had him in
charge worked without ceasing, while the open-mouthed infant lifted up
his voice and wept in a way so petulant and persistent as to completely
disguise its sweet bluebird quality. Now this charming youngster,
bearing heaven's color on his wings, with speckled bib and
shoulder-cape, and honest, innocent eyes, is a special favorite with me;
I never before saw a cry-baby in the family, and I did not lose sight of
him. Three or four days passed in which the pair frequently came about,
but without the father or any other young ones. Had there been an
accident and were these the survivors? Was the troublesome brawler a
spoiled "only child"? All questions were settled by the appearance
somewhat later of three other young bluebirds who were not cry-babies.
The father had evidently shaken off the trammels of domestic li