MORE ABOUT OUR ROBIN. hig bes: 
butter mould and looked at the egg and chirped at it, 
and then the male bird hopped in and sat down on it. 
We clapped our hands and called to the whole family 
to “come and see.” 
But what do you think that naughty bird did? Just 
as we were all feeling sure of his good sense, he jumped 
suddenly out of the nest and then back again. Then 
he began to scratch with both feet as fast as he could, 
till the egg went out of the nest and lay in fragments 
on the bottom of the cage. We expected to see his 
mate resent it, but she took no notice, going on peck- 
ing at a peach as if nothing had happened. 
“It was an accident,” we said, ready to excuse our 
pets. The days went by, and seven blue eggs shared 
the fate of the first one. The birds took turns at 
scratching them out of the nest, as if it were great 
fun. We felt badly, of course, and scolded them. 
But they only stared helplessly at us, and did not 
explain the secret about those eggs. 
When the robins were three years old, the male began 
to be sick. He had “fits” or spasms of some sort, 
whirling around on the floor upon his back, where he 
would lie as if dead for afew minutes. Then he would 
jump up and begin eating, as well as ever. 
These attacks grew less severe, and in a few days 
the bird got well. His mate had taken excellent care 
of him, begging him to eat something right in the 
middle of his fit, and flying about him just like a ner- 
vous little woman. When she had nursed him back to 
I 
