ROBIN LIFE 



departing day. In late spring at eventide, when the very 

 atmosphere is permeated and aglow with vernal color, fill- 

 ing the grove with a green glory, when the lingering echo 

 of the liquid tones of the wood thrush is still in our hearts, 

 and the faint twitter of retiring birds fills the place with 

 audible as well as scenic beauty, the robin, chanting his 

 I)ersuasive lay, "Be more gentle; be more loving," seems 

 not to be preaching to us so much as to be voicing the spirit 

 of the grove. As the tuneful hour of dawn is hallowed by 

 his matin hymn, the "hour of twilight is made sacred by his 

 vesper. 



When robin arrived from the southland, he hopped 

 about for a time, seemingly with no special object in view, 

 now that he had sung out his tidings of a nearby future, 

 balmy and warm; but when his little mate arrived, there was 

 work to be done as well as songs to be sung. For a few 

 days they hopped about together over the rapidly greening 

 ground, stopping every now and then to listen for the almost 

 imperceptible sound of wriggling living creatures just under 

 its surface, then, quickly burying their bills in the sod, they 

 braced themselves for a tug, and brought forth a reluctant 

 worm. 



Soon they began to look about for a location for a simi- 

 mer adobe. Various trees in both orchard and grove were 

 visited, but it was finally decided to reconstruct the tumble- 

 down home of the previous year, on the outreaching bough 

 of a young oak. Indeed, it had been their home for two years 

 now! Then both set to work to make it habitable. 



First it was cleared of the dead leaves that had blown 

 into it, and of other loose rubbish, then a few good new sticks 

 and weed-stems were added, and a quantity of soft mud 

 brought and molded into a neat cup by the shaping breast 



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