130 OUT WITH THE BIRDS 



than two feet from the ground. Madame's yel- 

 low eye gleamed timidly from the shadows, but 

 she did not stir or display the fear that was pul- 

 sating in her breast; and it seemed right and 

 good to slip away and leave the little mother 

 undisturbed. 



May, the month of marriages — among the 

 thicket birds — slipped away and June, the time 

 of younglings, came in; and the ways of the 

 feathered folk changed with the season. There 

 was less song, less honeymooning, and much more 

 of the serious struggle of life — the struggle for 

 the preservation of the helpless ones. For with 

 these birds, as with most other wild things, the 

 young and tender and helpless are not allowed 

 to survive on tolerance, but live by right of the 

 might and hardihood and cunning of their 

 parents. By the time the roses were blooming 

 in fragrant banks along the sunny edge of the 

 woods, and the cedar waxwings, tardy migrants, 

 were lisping about the place daily, it seemed 

 that all the couples of the grove were settled 

 down comfortably at the task of caring for a 

 family. 



But it was not so, for soon another dove was 

 found hatching on a frail little nest of her own 



