A WOOD THRUSH 
small brown wings flapped vigorously. One, 
stronger than the others, climbed upon the 
back of a brother and stretched up to his 
fullest height. He was a wise-looking baby, 
but gentle, as are all the wood thrushes. 
When I attempted to capture him, he too 
took flight. The other two remained in 
the nest until evening, but at dusk all had 
flown. For several days we were on the 
lookout for a solitary thrush with four 
fledglings in the wood, and after a week I 
fancied we saw them in the bushes near the 
slough, about one hundred yards from their 
old nest. The mother was very busy and 
very silent, as became a widow with four 
little ones to care for. How we longed to 
help her, only those who like to manage 
other people’s babies can understand. 
