loo Birds of Lakeside and Prairie 



either of the parents feed a youngster that was under the 

 other's care. There was something strikingly manlike in 

 the male bird's distribution of the labor. He gave his wife 

 the three requiring the most attention and took for his own 

 share the two lusty youngsters. 



One robin's nest which met with disaster was placed on 

 the elbow of a rain-pipe which was supposed to carry the rain- 

 water from the eaves of the Presbyterian Church at Highland 

 Park. The chances are that robins never made a study of 

 rain-water spouts. The experience of the ordinary house- 

 holder is that water pours out of them at every place 

 excepting where it is intended to pour out. The Pres- 

 byterian pipe was no exception to the general rule. When 

 the robin's nest was well completed, "the rains descended and 

 the floods came"; all the water from the eave-trough poured 

 down the pipe to a point about a foot above the nest on the 

 elbow, and then shot out through a hole and washed the little 

 habitation with its burden of eggs to the ground below. We 

 all know the poetical tale of the sparrow that built its nest in 

 the spout. We know how the "bloomin' rain-storm washed 

 the bloomin' sparrow out." We also know that when the 

 rain stopped the sparrow went up the spout again and there 

 fixed its habitation, awaiting another flood. I can readily 

 believe this story of a sparrow. The robins who lost their 

 home in that north-shore thunder-storm started to rebuild 

 their nest on the same rain-pipe elbow before the pools in the 

 street were thoroughly dry. Doubtless they felt that the 

 shadow of the church made their home sacred from the attack 

 of man, and they were willing for the safety thus secured to 

 run the risk of more showers. Their second home was washed 

 down within a week. They went elsewhere, and let it be 



