FRIENDS IN FEATHERS 



step brought my face level with her. I lifted my hand and gently 

 stroked her wing. Then she stood in the nest and looked down 

 to see what was there, exactly as a brooding hen. I gave her the 

 slightest push so she hopped to the edge of the nest. That 

 broke the spell of the brooding fever which had bound her and 

 she was lost in the thicket. I would have given much to recall 

 her, for the first nestling was struggling through the shell. That 

 explained her conduct. I had approached her at precisely the 

 psychological moment, when, knowing she had not been hanned 

 previously, she would stay. There was no use for a study of a 

 nest with so small a bird in it so I removed my camera without 

 waiting to close it or take it down. Before driving away I took 

 a last peep. She had returned to the nest and was settling to 

 brood again. 



READY FOR THE MERCIES OF A WORLD NONE TOO TENDER 



214 



