396 GRAY LADY AND THE BIRDS 
out to swallow a May beetle, which stuck in her throat, 
causing her to choke and cough. “TI can only eall, yet I 
worked with the best for the farmer where I lodged last 
year. I made a nest on his cow-shed rafters and laid two 
sets of lovely white eggs, but his boys stole them and that 
was all my thanks for a season’s toil.” 
“Singing birds do not fare much better,” said the 
Thrasher. “I may say frankly that I have a fine voice 
and I can sing as many tunes as any wild bird, but chil- 
dren rob my nest, when they can find it, and house-people 
drive me from their gardens, thinking I’m stealing ber- 
ries.” 
“They treat me even worse,” said the Robin, bolting 
a cutworm he had brought from a piece of ploughed land. 
“Tn spring, when I lead the Bird Chorus night and morn- 
ing, they rob my nest. In summer they drive me from 
the gardens, where I work peacefully, and in autumn, 
when I linger through the gloomy days, long after your 
travelling brothers have disappeared, they shoot me for 
pot-pie !”’ 
“Tt is a shame!” blustered Jennie Wren. “Not that 
I suffer much myself, for I’m not good to eat, and I’m a 
most ticklish mark to shoot at. Though I lose some eggs, 
I usually give a piece of my mind to any one who dis- 
turbs me, and immediately go and lay another nest full. 
Yet I say it is a shame, the way we poor birds are treated, 
more like tramps than citizens, though we are citizens, 
every one of us who pays rent and works for the family.” 
“Hear, hear!’’ croaked the Cuckoo, with the yellow 
bill. He is always hoarse, probably because he eats so 
many caterpillars that his throat is rough with their hairs. 
