WHAT I HAVE DONE WITH BIRDS 



And when the rain fell, as if he knew it a blessing and a thing for 

 which to be thankful, with the drops dripping from his gray coat 

 he lifted his golden throat and sang and sang incomparably. 



In just a little while he learned that when the pump was used 

 the water would be fresh and cool, and so when any one started 

 toward it he went along and perching on a bush close by awaited 

 his treat. Then he learned that when the master of the house 

 came soon after would appear his table scraps, and so he went to 

 meet him and greeted his appearance with an alert, "Kip, kip, 

 kip! Cut, cut, cut!" Neither was he long in discovering that 

 when I walked about the orchard and pottered among the plants 

 and flowers he always got a piece of ripe apple, fresh fruit, ber- 

 ries or a grub or worm, and so he went with me and talked to me 

 all the way and flew down for what I gathered for him. They 

 raised two broods on the premises and when family cares were 

 over and the rest of the Robins and Blue-birds betook themselves 

 to the deep wood for vacation and moulting they went along, but 

 with the difference that every day, and several times a day, they 

 came winging in from the forest and ate and bathed at the well. 

 It seemed to me that they were with us two weeks after all other 

 Robins had migrated in the fall. 



During the winter we wondered about them and speculated 

 on whether they would return, and if we should know them. We 

 were uneasy, for we had laid the foundations of a new home and 

 there would be workmen and noise all summer, and I sadly proph- 

 esied that we should lose our birds and have to begin all over 

 again. Late in March the Deacon called me, and, as I stepped to 

 the back door, before he could speak I saw the Robin at the well, 

 our big bright bird beyond all question. We hurried to put out 

 his water-plan and food, and, while the foundations of our home 

 were settling, he laid those of his in the plum-tree again. 



