A WIDOW AND TWINS. 125 



feet. Suddenly, without making use of the 

 rim of the nest, as I should have expected 

 him to do, he was in the air, hovering in the 

 prettiest fashion, and in a moment more had 

 alighted on a leafless twig slightly above the 

 level of the nest, and perhaps a yard from 

 it. Within a minute the mother appeared, 

 buzzing and calling, with answering calls 

 from the youthful adventurer. At once 

 after a hasty reconnaissance of the man on 

 the wall she perched beside him, and 

 plunged her bill into his throat. Then she 

 went to the nest, served the other one in the 

 same way, and made off. She had no time 

 to waste at this juncture of affairs. 



When she had gone, I stepped up to the 

 trunk of the tree to watch the little fellow 

 more closely. He held his perch, and oc- 

 cupied himself with dressing his plumage, 

 though, as the breeze freshened, he was 

 compelled once in a while to keep his wings 

 in motion to prevent the wind from carrying 

 him away. When the old bird returned, 

 in just half an hour, she resented my in- 

 trusion (what an oppressor of the widow and 

 the fatherless she must by this time have 

 thought me !) in the most unmistakable man- 



