NESTS AND NESTLINGS. 47 



scuttled away through the grass ; and they were 

 all well feathered. 



But the same was true of a brood of bush 

 sparrows, whose crib was hidden in the grass at 

 the border of the woods. Poor babies ! They 

 were without a feather, with scarcely a gossa- 

 mer thread of down, stretching up their slender 

 necks, which were so w^eak that they could 

 barely lift the head, and opening their mouths 

 for food. Even their eyes were not yet open. 

 I visited them a couj^le of days later and found 

 them beginning to feather, and too knowing to 

 open their mouths when they saw me, seemingly 

 aware that their parents were different-looking 

 creatures. 



A w eek later they leaped from the nest and 

 fluttered off into the grass, though the youngest 

 one could scarcely get over the rim. But hold ! 

 What was this ? Here was a baby whose head 

 was partly bare, and who was about two-and-a- 

 half times as large as the rest of the children of 

 the family! What could this mean? Why, 

 it was a young cow bunting which the little 

 mother sparrow had hatched with her own 

 bantlings. You are aware, perhaps, that the 

 mother bunting— though she is only half a 

 mother — slyly drops her eggs into the nests 

 of other birds, and leaves them there to be 



