A VICTIM TO AMBITION. 13 



which she found napping on a fence. She ran 

 at once to a crack or some convenient hole in 

 the rough rail, thrust it in and hammered it 

 down. When it was quiet she snipped off the 

 wings, dragged it out, and beat it on the fence 

 till it was fit for food, the family meanwhile 

 gathered around her, clinging closely to the 

 fence, and gently fluttering. These nut-hatches 

 were remarkably silent, but some that I once 

 saw living near the top of two or three tall 

 pines were quite noisy, and I spent much time 

 trying to see what they were forever complain- 

 ing about. There always seemed to be some 

 catastrophe impending up in that sky parlor, 

 but it never appeared to reach a climax. 



Charming to watch is the bluebird nestling ; 

 cheery and gentle like the parents, he seems 

 to escape the period of helplessness that many 

 birds suffer from, perhaps because he is patient 

 enough to stay in the nest till his wings are 

 ready to use. The mocking-bird baby has a 

 far different time. Victim of a devouring am- 

 bition that will not let him rest till either legs 

 or wings will bear him, he scrambles out upon 

 his native tree, stretches, plumes a little in a 

 jerky, hurried way, and then boldly launches out 

 in the air — alas ! — to come flop to the ground, 

 where he is an easy prey to boys and cats, 

 both of whom are particularly fond of young 



