FRIENDS IN FEATHERS 



She was almost liis size, sprucely dressed, and thank heaven! 

 open to conviction. I could see it in her big, wise eyes, the alert 

 poise of her head and her willingness to follow his lead. Before 

 the day was over she was helping carry twigs to the wistaria, and 

 in an incredibly short time she was brooding, while Robin was 

 back on the bench looking in the window. He seemed content 

 and happy as a bird could be. I guarded faithfully with him, 

 no accident befell the nest, for its brood left safely. Then they 

 changed to a hickory in a small grove by the back porch and 

 nested again. 



They stayed late that fall, and the following spring came 

 early as usual and together. Again they built in the wistaria, 

 using the old nest for a foundation, and again they brought out a 

 full brood. For a second nesting they chose the top of the martin 

 box on the windmill, but I think they were sorry, for the Sparrows 

 tormented them constantly. That year Robin seemed rather 

 sluggish in his flight, he sang much less and with nothing like his 

 first spirit and intonation. And no wonder! For five years the 

 precious bird had homed with us. All the care we could give him 

 was freely his for the love we bore him. I often wondered what 

 I would have seen could I have followed him south ; but however 

 kind everyone would be forced to be to him, I always shall be- 

 lieve he loved us best on account of those early migrations, often 

 made alone. 



The following year we had swarms of Martins on the windmill, 

 Bluebirds in the bird houses, Song Sparrows in the honeysuckle, 

 and Robins in three different trees, but tragedy or old age had 

 done its work, for all that spring we listened in vain for the voice 

 of our dear bird. 



Among these newcomers one hen was remarkable. She built 

 early in an apple-tree outside the music-room window. The tree 

 had been struggling with scale for several years; that winter it 



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