148 STOKIES OF BIRD LIFE 



ming dizziness was in its eyes. At times it struck with its 

 beak hard and wantonly into the ground where it lay, as if 

 seeking a solace there. A choking thirst almost stifled the 

 piteous notes of complaint which at times escaped. 



As the evening came down the gathering call of the 

 family sounded over in the field. The bird endeavored to 

 rise, but the exertion only resulted in spasms of pain and it 

 lay hopelessly fanning the ground with its wings. Oh! 

 the agony of that day, and the hours yet to follow ! The 

 dews of night, which soon began to gather, revived the 

 bird a little, but this only made it more conscious of its 

 sickness as the hours of darkness wore on. There it lay 

 alone beating out its life in the forest. There was no sound 

 save the sounds of the night, the singing of the crickets in 

 the grass, the croaking of the frogs down in the swamp, 

 and the distant baying of the farmer's dog. 



Gliding through the grass among the shadows of the 

 pine trees, here and there, but ever nearer and yet nearer 

 to where the stricken bird lay, came something which 

 seemed to be only a slender, softly moving shadow. Its nose 

 touched the ground and the grass blades ; quickly it looked 

 up and eagerly sniffed the air. A slight sound reached 

 the bird's ears; its head turned, and close by in the dark- 

 ness blazed the two small red eyes of its most dreaded 

 enemy, Weasel, the blood-thirsty. With a desperate spring 



