BIRD STORIES 



It was slow work, for it must be thick and strong, and 

 the place where they gathered the plaster was not handy 

 by, and it took a great great many trips, their hods being 

 so small. 



At first, while the nest was shallow, only one could 

 work at a time; and if Petro came back with his plaster 

 before Eve had patted the last of hers into place, she 

 would squeak at him in a fidgety though not fretful 

 voice, as if saying, ^^Now, don't get in my way and 

 bother me, dear/' So he would have to fly about while 

 he waited for her to go. The minute she was ready to be 

 off, he would be slipping into her place; and this time she 

 would give him a cosy little squeak of welcome, and he 

 would reply, with his mouth full of plaster, in a quick 

 and friendly way, as if he meant, "I'll build while you 

 fetch more plaster, and we'd both better hurry, don't 

 you think?" 



After worrying a bit about the best place to dump his 

 hodful, he went to work. He opened his beak and, in the 

 most matter-of-fact way, pushed out his lump of plaster 

 with his tongue, on top of the nest wall. Then he braced 

 his body firmly in the nest and began to use his trowel, 

 which was his upper beak, pushing the fresh lump all 

 smooth on the inside of the nest. 



Have you ever seen a dog poke with the top of his 

 nose, until he got the dirt heaped over a bone which he 



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