46 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 



the least intention of exposing liis brand-new 

 feathers to the rain. 



Very early the following morning, before the 

 human world was astir, loud golden-wing cries, 

 and calls, and "laughs" were heard about the 

 wood. This abandonment of restraint proclaimed 

 that something had happened; and so, indeed, 

 I discovered, for in hastening to my post I found 

 an ominous silence about the oak-tree. The 

 young wise-head, whose struggles and tempta- 

 tions I had watched so closely, had chosen to go 

 in the magical morning hours, when the world 

 belongs entirely to birds and beasts. The home 

 in the wood looked deserted. 



I sat down in silence and waited, for I knew 

 the young flicker could not long be still. Sure 

 enough, I soon heard his cry, but how far off I 

 I followed it to an oak-tree on the farther edge 

 of the grove. I searched the tree, and there I 

 saw him, quiet now as I approached, and plainly 

 full of joy in his freedom and his wings. 



I returned to my place, hoping that all had 

 not gone. There must be more than one, for two 

 had been up to the door, I was sure. I waited. 

 Some hours later, the parents came to their 

 home in the wood, one after the other. Each 

 one alighted beside the door, glanced in, in a 

 casual way, but did not put the head in, and 

 then flew to a neighboring tree, uttering what 



