MAY 



seemed to belong to long ago. 

 " Sck, sck," it went,, and in a 

 moment by flew a red-head, 

 or, as serious people would 

 call him, a red-eyebrowed 

 finch. But it wasn't at all a 

 serious day, so I called him 

 red-head, and followed him 

 softly through the bushes. 

 He did not take much 

 notice of me, but flew on 

 to a thick needlebush, where 

 high amongst the prickly 

 leaves I saw the familiar long, 

 retort -shaped nest. As he 

 approached I could hear a 

 very faint squeaking, and 

 knew that at the end of that 

 long nest some little birdlings 

 were waiting hungrily for the 

 seed which their father was 

 bringing. 



I went on my way with a 

 song at my heart, glad that I 

 had met this little friend of my 

 childhood on this playing day. 



YOUNG HONEY-EATERS 



