Five Little Waxwings and How They Grew 219 



To keep my little pets from straying and becoming a prey to prowling 

 cats, I made of chicken-wire a cage on the lawn, and rigged perches in it on 

 which they would snuggle up to each other in the most affectionate way. 



At night I took them into the house, in a little wicker basket, for safe 

 keeping, putting them out each morning. 



From the first, they showed a most remarkable absence of fear, and not the 

 slightest aversion to being handled. 



After about two weeks of faithful feeding and care, I began to wish that my 

 birds could help themselves, so that I might feel justified in giving them 

 their freedom. 



But it is a trait of young birds not to feed themselves as long as somebody 

 else will do it for them, so that it was not until July 31, sixteen days from the 

 day they came, that I brought myself to the point of letting them go. 



After breakfast that morning, I took their basket up into the berry patch, 

 where they could find plenty of food, and not without considerable reluc- 

 tance, gave them up to Nature's keeping. They showed no special delight at 

 being free. They flew about the berry bushes and up into the pine trees, 

 occasionally returning to perch upon my arm or shoulder, and I soon found 

 that it is not so easy to turn off foster children. If I was ready to let them go, 

 they were by no means ready to give me up. 



About this time I was doing some rustic work a short distance from the 

 house and for days the little creatures were my almost constant companions, 

 flying about in the maples over my head and coming down every little while 

 to get their bread and milk, a saucer of which I kept on the ground by me. 



Wherever I was about the place they were liable to appear. Each morn- 

 ing as I stepped on the porch their cry greeted me, and instantly four little 

 monoplanes would be coming full speed toward me. I always threw up my arm 

 for a perch, and they would suffer me to carry them thus about the grounds 

 and to the house. 



Their familiar, enticing ways were completely captivating, for if it was 

 beautiful to have them so tame in captivity, it was perfectly charming to 

 have them show such trust and confidence when at liberty, and I was their 

 willing slave while the little drama lasted. 



Two of the birds I was always able to identify — one, the only one of the 

 brood that had the sealing-wax tips on his wing feathers, and another who 

 had a white spot on his shoulder, where he had lost a feather. This last was 

 tamer than all the rest. After his breakfast of bread and milk, he would perch 

 on my finger by the half hour. He seemed to like the warmth at his feet, and 

 I would carry him thus perched into the house and up-stairs, to show to my wife, 

 who perchance had not yet risen. Then we would sit in the kitchen rocker for 

 a time. When I held him up in front of my face, he would peer into my 

 eyes, throw up his crest, and twist his head from side to side, evidently 

 studying me quite as much as I was studying him. 



