I08 IN BIRD LAND. 



the youngsters try to preen their feathers, they went 

 about the performance so awkwardly. 



On the seventeenth of the month one of the nest- 

 lings was missing, and no amount of looking for it 

 in the thicket revealed any clew to its whereabouts. 

 None of the remaining birds were ready to fly. 

 Two days later they were still in the nest, although 

 they had grown considerably since my last visit, so 

 that one of them was almost crowded out of the 

 circular trundle-bed. I could not resist the temp- 

 tation to lift it in my hand, just to see how pretty 

 it was and how it would act. It uttered a sharp 

 cry of alarm, and sprang from my hand ; but its 

 wings were still so weak that it merely fluttered in 

 an oblique direction to the ground. The third time 

 I caught it, it sat contentedly on my palm, and 

 allowed me to stroke its back, looking up at its 

 captor with mingled wonder and trustfulness. 



On the heads of all the nestlings a fine down pro- 

 truded up through and above the feathers. The 

 birds looked very knowingly out of their small coal- 

 black eyes, but the cunning little things obstinately 

 refused to open their mouths for me, entice them 

 as I would; however, when I moved away some 

 distance, and their mamma came with a tempting 

 morsel, they sprang up instantly and gulped it down. 

 Not so very unsophisticated, after all, for mere bant- 

 lings ! On the morning of the twenty-sixth all the 

 young finches had left the nest, and were perched in 

 the bushes near by. I contrived to catch one of them 



