I approached the little fellow, thinking 

 I would have no trouble in catching him 

 as robins are so tame. When I came 

 near, however, the older birds set up a 

 greater clamor than ever. One would 

 have thought that Bedlam had been let 

 loose. They were actually crazy. I 

 could not have believed that three small 

 birds knew how to make so much noise. 

 I thought that they would fly into my 

 face and peck my eyes out. I was so 

 frightened by their swooping down close 

 to my head and shoulders, fairly shriek- 

 ing with anger, that once I turned to 

 run. This seemed so silly, however, that 

 I summoned courage and caught the lit- 

 tle fellow, carrying him into the house. 

 I put him into a small pasteboard box 

 and covered this with a book, allowing 

 air to enter at one corner. 



He was a fat, pudgy little thing, as all 

 young robins are, and he struggled vio- 

 lently to break out. As I did not want 

 to keep him in the box I prepared a small 

 round basket for him, putting some 

 pieces of cotton in it for a nest. Next 

 I wove some twine over the top of the 

 basket, allowing a space large enough to 

 put the bird in. When he was safe in- 

 side I finished the cover, making the 

 meshes large enough for him to put 

 his bill through, but not large enough 

 for his head. All the time I worked he 

 kept biting viciously at my fingers and 

 struggling to break out. The basket 

 was hung on the porch so that the fam- 

 ily might keep the ties of relationship 

 firm, by visiting him. 



I gave him some food, bits of apple, 

 a worm or two and other delicacies, then 

 left him. Returning fifteen minutes 

 later I found Master Robin hopping 

 about on the porch. This would never 

 do, for the cat would soon find him and 

 put an end to his career. I put him back 

 in his nest, and, although I had thought 

 his first cover had been woven securely, 

 I was doubly careful about the second. 



Nevertheless, he tore this as he did the 

 other and was out on the porch soon 

 again. He worked hard at the third, 

 too, but I remained near so that he did 

 not accomplish much. He certainly was 

 a remarkably persevering little fellow. 



His mother, who had remained near 

 at first, seemed to have abandoned him 

 in the afternoon. As I had just been 

 reading that a young robin requires each 

 day a pile of worms three times the size 

 of its body, I had hoped that the mother 

 would help to feed him, as mother birds 

 often do when their young are in cap- 

 tivity. I was horrified at the thought 

 of having to dig so many worms in one 

 day. I reckoned, at that rate, the re- 

 mainder of my life would be devoted 

 almost exclusively to digging worms. 

 With that prospect before me, as hours 

 passed without bringing the mother back, 

 I unfastened the covering and hung the 

 basket on the clothes-line. In a few mo- 

 ments the prisoner had escaped and was 

 seen hopping about on the ground with 

 his mother for a companion. She had 

 not been very far away at any time, I 

 suspect. She had a worm in her bill and 

 with this she coaxed the little one 

 onward. She would hop up quite close 

 to him, then fly to the fence, then back 

 again, almost putting the worm into his 

 mouth. This she never did, however. 

 She drew him nearer and nearer to the 

 fence and finally had him through it. 

 This seemed to be a great relief, as 

 though the most dangerous part of the 

 journey had been accomplished. I 

 watched them for more than a half hour, 

 and all the while she kept up her coaxing 

 and begging, until at the end of that time 

 they, had crossed the drive and entered 

 the garden. It had been slow work, but 

 they evidently were near home now. The 

 old bird still had the worrn in her mouth 

 and kept it there until the young one 

 was well hidden in the bushes. 



Elizabeth Roberts Burton. 



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