138 OUT WITH THE BIRDS 



The latter were noted at noon, all sitting up 

 high in the nest and gazing wonderingly out 

 into the big green world, but in the evening they 

 were all gone, and no trace of either old or 

 young could be found near the empty nest. 



The first crop of the thicket juveniles was 

 gone, but others were coming along apace. Five 

 little catbirds opened their gaping mouths on the 

 17th, and on the 23rd the belated grackles at 

 the fire-place were heard peeping. Also it was 

 evident that some of the other parents were bent 

 on raising a second brood just as soon as they 

 could be relieved of some of the responsibility of 

 caring closely for the first. Thus the robins 

 were again singing with almost the zest of a 

 month earlier. The dove was cooing away 

 dreamily every day. Even the thrasher tuned 

 up again after his long silence, and these chaps 

 were not wasting song on the desert air. But 

 all this was not to be entered more in the log of 

 the thicket, for on the evening of the 22nd, a 

 wagon pulled into the trees, and next morning 

 when the day-peep chorus rang through the 

 rustling poplars, the little square with its 

 trampled leaves, where the tent had stood, 

 was vacant. 



