100 WHIMSICAL WAYS IN BIRD-LAND. 



rosy pink and appeared in sombre green, and 

 meadow lilies peeped out from every fence 

 corner. A few days after my grand discovery, 

 I went one evening to the blackberry tangle, 

 and was greeted by gleeful shouts and calls 

 from the bird of late so silent. There he 

 was, his old self, his recent reserve all gone. 

 My heart fell ; I suspected, and in a moment I 

 knew the reason. The nest was empty. Where, 

 then, could be those youngsters, less than a 

 week old, who four days before were blind and 

 bare of feathers ? They could not have flown ; 

 they must have been hurried out of the nest as 

 soon as they could stand. Could it be because 

 I knew their secret ? I felt myself a monster, 

 and I tried to make amends by hunting them 

 up and replacing them. But the canny parents, 

 as usual, outwitted me. Not only had they re- 

 moved their infants, but they had hidden them 

 so securely that I could not find them, and I 

 was sure, from their movements, that they were 

 not bereaved. 



I began my search by trying to follow the 

 wily singer, who appeared to understand, and 

 regard it as a joke. First he led me up the 

 lane, then I had to follow down the lane ; the 

 next minute he shouted from the blackberry 

 patch, and I had to go around the wall to reach 

 him. Alas, the race between wings and feet is 



