156 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



with your eyes glued to a uest, it really is pleas- 

 ant to have something happen once in a while ! 

 Though the mother bird did not go to the nest 

 often, she sometimes flew by, and once the sound 

 of her wings roused the young, and they called 

 out to her as she passed. When they were awake, 

 it was amusing to see the little midgets stick out 

 their long, thread-like tongues, preen their pin- 

 feathers, and stretch their wings over the nest. 



One fine morning when I went to the oak I 

 heard a faint squeak, and saw something flutter- 

 ing up in the tree. When the mother came, she 

 buzzed about as though not liking the look of 

 things, for her children were out of the nest, 

 and behold ! — a horse and rider were under her 

 tree. She tried to coax the unruly nestlings to 

 follow her into the upper stories, but they would 

 not go. 



Although not ready to be led, one of the infants 

 soon felt that it would be nice to go alone. When 

 a bird first leaves the nest it goes about very 

 gingerly, but this little fellow now began to feel 

 his strength and the excitement of his freedom. 

 He wiped his tongue on a branch, and then, to 

 my astonishment, his wings began to whirl as if 

 he were getting up steam, and presently they 

 lifted him from his twig, and he went whirring off 

 as softly as a hummingbird moth, among the oak 

 sprays. His nerves were evidently on edge, for 

 he looked around at the sound of falling: leaves, 



