A NURSERY LESSON. 27 



On the day of this first adventure began a 

 mysterious performance, the meaning of which I 

 did not understand till later, when it became 

 very familiar. It opened with a peculiar call, 

 and its object was to rouse the young to follow. 

 So remarkable was the effect upon them that I 

 have no doubt a mob of kingbirds could be 

 brought together by its means. It began, as I 

 said, with a call, a low, prolonged cry, sound- 

 ing, as nearly as letters can express it, like 

 "Kr-r-r-r! Kr-r-r-r!" At the same moment, 

 both parents flew in circles around the tree, a 

 little above the nest, now and then almost touch- 

 ing it, and all the time uttering the strange cry. 

 At the first sound, the three young kings 

 mounted the edge, wildly excited, dressing their 

 plumage in the most frantic manner, as if their 

 lives depended on being off in an instant. It 

 lasted but a few moments: the parents flew 

 away; the youngsters calmed down. 



In a short time all the nestlings were accus- 

 tomed to going out upon the branch, where they 

 clustered together in a little row, and called 

 and plumed alternately; but one after another 

 slipped back into the dear old home, which they 

 apparently found it very hard to leave. Often, 

 upon coming out of the house, after the impera- 

 tive demands of luncheon or dinner had dragged 

 mc for a time away from my absorbing study, 



