202 American Birds 



father and the mother. They flitted about the trees, watch- 

 ing me in silence. They were always shy, and to me the 

 shyness was the truest indication of the fine natures they 

 possessed. They did not relieve their feelings by a great 

 show and fuss as the robins did. The robins were always 

 unnecessarily fussy and noisy. They are of plebeian stock; 

 the thrushes are real patricians. Each time the thrush 

 mother came with food for her young I saw her linger at 

 the nest edge. Many bird mothers are away as soon as 

 they have fed their young, but the thrush never failed 

 to examine her nestlings, and I often saw her sit for sev- 

 eral minutes at a time looking at her babies and caressing 

 them with a real mother's love. 



There are many tragedies in bird and animal life, but 

 we rarely come upon them. How often do we see a bird 

 sick or dying? The end is generally tragic and not from 

 natural causes. The weak fall as prey to the strong, the 

 sick bird dies from a cat or some other animal. One day 

 I was watching a pair of yellow warblers in the orchard 

 that were flitting about the vine-covered fence. I think 

 they were building a nest or just about to build in the vicin- 

 ity. The first thing I noticed, the male paused on the fence, 

 fluttering his wings. His mate flew down beside him. He 

 tried to fly to a limb of a tree near by, but fell short and 

 wavered to the ground. The wife was right beside him 

 and chirping all the time. I went nearer for a closer view. 

 He lay flat on his back, writhing in pain. I stooped to 

 pick him up, for he was dying. His wife was on the fence, 

 scarcely a yard from my hand, fidgeting and calling to 

 him. He died in my hand. I laid him back on the 

 ground; his mate was by his side in an instant, and now 



