BIRDS IN THE RAIN. 175 



vided for, I fear. My heart went out to the 

 dozens of bobolink and song - sparrow babies 

 buried under the matted grass, the little tawny 

 thrushes wandering around cold and comfortless 

 on the soaked ground in the woods, the warbler 

 infants, redstart and chestnut-sided that I 

 knew were sitting humped up and miserable in 

 some watery place under the berry bushes, the 

 young tanager only just out of the nest, and the 

 two cuckoo babies, thrust out of their home at 

 the untimely age of seven days, to shiver around 

 on their weak blue legs. 



My only comfort was in thinking of wood- 

 pecker little folk, the yellow-bellied family whose 

 loud and insistent baby cries we had listened to 

 for days, the downy and hairy, and the golden- 

 wing. They were all warm and snug, if they 

 could only be persuaded to stay at home. But 

 from what I have seen of young birds, when 

 their hour strikes they go, be it fair or foul. To 

 take the bitter with the sweet is their fate, and 

 no rain, however driving, no wind, however 

 rough, can detain them an hour when they feel 

 the call of the inner voice which bids them go. 

 I have seen many birdlings start out in weather 

 that from our point of view should make the 

 feathered folk, old or young, hug the nest or any 

 shelter they can find. 



In the afternoon the rain had ceased, and we 



