268 THE BLACKBIRD. 



Perhaps your wee brood in their nest, 



Or eggs, unhatched, are cauld and wet, 

 Because by Nature you were prest — 



Some tempting cherries sweet to get. 



As if you hadna equal right 



To live and whistle like himsel' ; 

 Enjoy the bonnie summer bright, 



And court within the grove or dell. 



Also, on finding five young gorbits dead in a nest, I wrote — 



They huddled close — they couldna flee, 

 U" But peered aroond sae wistfully ; 



For dark the nicht began to lower 

 Wi' soughing blast and pelting shower. 



Then hoarsely shook the leaves around, 

 Wi' sic an eerie, moaning sound ; 

 Yet nane were there to hap them owre 

 Wi' cosy wing that bitter hour. 



Three days and nichts they lay the same, 

 Alas ! their mither never came 

 Again, wi' couthie, kindly wing, 

 Life-giving bield, or food to bring. 



But, ah ! full many a blow is given 

 Beneath the azure brow of Heaven ; 

 And many a careless, thochtless stroke 

 A mouth has closed, and heart has broke ! 



For life hangs close on ane anither — 

 Like those wee gorbits on their mither ; 

 Then rashly tak' not life away, 

 Enjoy your ain — let ithers play. 



It is a pity that, independent of the great good they do in re- 

 stricting insectivorous pests, our feathered songsters are so ruth- 

 lessly persecuted, and their nests harried. Kegarding this, a 

 touching incident appeared lately — 



"A number of schoolboys, attended by their master, were wandering 

 about the Great Park of Windsor, when one of them discovered a blackbird's 

 nest with young ones. He made a prize of it, and was taking it home 

 when the cries of their young were heard by the old birds. Notwithstanding 

 the presence and noise of so many boys, they did not desert their helpless 

 offspring, but kept near them for about three miles, flying from tree to tree, 

 and uttering those wailing notes so peculiar to the blackbird. This caused 

 the boy to place the young birds in a cage, and to hang it outside of the 

 house, which was close to the town of Windsor. They were fed regularly 

 by the old birds. As they grew up the boy sold first one then another as he 

 got customers for them, until they were all sold. The morning after the 

 last bird was sold, the female was found dead beneath the cage where her 

 offspring had been confined, as if she had been unable to survive their loss. 

 So strong, indeed, is the attachment of blackbirds for their young that a 

 boy was struck violently on the head by one while he had a young one in 

 his hand which he was taking from its nest." 



