A MARTINET IN FEATHERS 
had been devoured by those three innocent- 
looking young robins, and the feeding pro- 
cess was still going on when I left the win- 
dow. During the last few days of their stay 
in the nest, either the father or the mother 
was cramming food down the spotted golden 
throats of the nestlings every three minutes. 
There was strong individuality shown 
even then. One youngster, evidently a 
male, was much more restless, energetic, 
and self-assertive than the other two. I 
was not surprised to see him rise on the 
edge of the nest one day, watch his mother’s 
flight, and decide that he could follow her. 
This he did, to the surprise and consterna- 
tion of his small sisters left meekly at home. 
He went just as far as his untried wings 
could carry him, and landed in a crotch of 
the main trunk, six feet below the nest. 
Just then the father returned with food, and 
so astonished was he at the exploit of his 
son that he uttered a loud cry, even with 
his mouth full of caterpillars, and for one 
whole minute forgot to feed the venture- 
71 
