ANOTHER NEST THAT FAILED. 105 



times that bird came there, at least, I called it the same 

 one, and she too had a brood of fledgelings that she was 

 just bringing to the lawn in search of food. But she had 

 a proud mate assisting in the task of filling those capa- 

 cious, yellow mouths, and in some way either had observed 

 that her lone neighbor was having a hard struggle to ex- 

 ist alone, or possibly someone might have told her. Who 

 knows ? 



Early one morning I saw this kindhearted neighbor 

 leave her brood, who were fast becoming competent to 

 care for themselves, upon the lawn beneath the window 

 and fly to the nest in the maple tree and exchange places 

 with the stiff and weary mother-bird, while my bird flew 

 down to the grass with the young ones. I had already 

 thrown out crumbs before this occurred, and among them 

 was a succulent strawberry, which I had intended for my 

 bird's breakfast. But one of those saucy youngsters made 

 a dive for it and she, knowing I had meant it for her de- 

 lectation, naturally objected and scolded the upstart in no 

 uncertain tones. This was too much for the neighbor on 

 the nest, and she indignantly flounced down to take her 

 offspring's part and after a vehement and noisy protest (no 

 doubt thinking she had been mistreated) flew away with 

 her flock. My bird resumed her place upon the nest after 

 finishing her repast and I never saw the other bird come 

 again to the tree. 



One day I found a broken egg beneath the tree and soon 

 after the nest was deserted. I knew my bird by her be- 

 draggled, faded appearance, and she often came afterward 

 and perched upon the edge of the nest, looking long and 

 thoughtfully at those eggs. I am loath to add anything 

 to detract from the character of such an unselfish, patient 

 mother, still I almost suspect that she soon recovered from 

 her grief and disappointment, for afterwards I saw her 

 several times coquetting with another robin upon the lawn, 



