58 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



that expanse visible from the rim of their nest 

 of twigs. In a few days, if some cow-snake or 

 other varmint does not meanwhile gobble them 

 down, the slopes of the valley will bound for 

 them the world. A short time later its area will 

 expand to the borders of the old pasture. In 

 less than six weeks, however, or by the time a 

 few hoar frosts have sent into the great un- 

 known the major portion of that winged and 

 creeping food supply of caterpillars and other 

 insects on which they mainly depend, under 

 the guidance of their parents they will be south- 

 ward bound and for months will see more of the 

 world than many a human. Then back with 

 the sun to the vicinity of their thicket of prickly 

 ash will they travel, back to the spot where 

 they first knew life back where the halcyon 

 days of youth were spent, where food was theirs 

 for the asking, where the mother's wings shel- 

 tered them from the night's dews and the rain, 

 and the father warned them from the encroach- 

 ing shadow of the hawk and the jay. Back will 

 they come, just as back to the scenes of youth 

 many a wandering human goes; but, like the 

 human, they will not find it as it was. No 

 sheltering wing will cover them by night. Food 

 will be theirs only for the seeking, for the labor 

 of taking. Sharp eyes must they ever have 

 open; swift wings must they ever hold in readi- 

 ness; dense coverts must they know. 



