﻿A Bit of Robin History 



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the home she had built unaided, while he sat up in the maple tree and sang. 

 That evening there was a beautiful blue egg in the nest. 



I think Mrs. Robin and I would have become friends sooner, if her 

 interfering spouse had not ruffled up his crown feathers, and wriggled his 

 shoulders, and protested from his maple bough whenever I made any 

 advances. But as it was, by the end of the week she was quite accustomed 

 to my presence, and, if I made no abrupt movements, did not object to my 

 being very near her. As I devoted most of my time to her, it was not so 

 sudden a friendship as might appear, either. 



She knew me — or my blue house-gown — from the other members of 

 the household, and recognized in me a harmless, friendly, queer, big bird, 



THE SITTING BIRD 



with blue calico feathers. She never really liked the click of the camera, 

 and positively declined any lunches of my serving, whether a tempting fat 

 angleworm, or a bit of very ripe fruit. Her wise husband never offered her 

 a bite to eat. 



Each day, for four days, a priceless blue gem was placed in their treas- 

 ure-house, and on April 28, she began to sit very closely, and Mr. Robin's 

 song grew more wildly joyous. 



On the 29th, I begged the privilege of photographing her on 

 the nest, and she somewhat reluctantly consented. In the photograph one 

 can see the distinguishing one white moon on the left tip of her tail. 



When she heard the camera click she immediately regretted her compli- 

 ance, and flew away from the detested sound; but it greeted her again on 

 her return, as she stood an instant on the edge of the nest, the breeze 

 stirring the soft red feathers of her breast. 



