A MAY MOVING 
and the fatted calf was killed amid fervent 
rejoicings. It seemed to me that the blue- 
bird’s song that night had a happier note— 
“ Trually, trually,” “ thankfully, thankfully.” 
Two days after, the babies flew one at a 
time from the old tree nest. “There was no 
“* Are you satisfied with this pose, Mr. Photographer?” 
twig or bough near to receive them, for the 
tree trunk was stripped bare of bark and 
branches. Their flight must be from the 
door of their snug home out into the wide 
green world of forest. The nearest perch 
was twenty feet away. No wonder they 
stood a long time on the doorstep summon- 
Sih 
