216 THE LOG OF THE SUN 



Before this, his world has been a warm, soft- 

 lined nest, with ever anxions parents to shelter 

 him from rain and cold, or to stand with half- 

 spread wings between him and the burning rays 

 of the sun. He has only to open his mouth and 

 call for food and a supply of the choicest morsels 

 appears and is shoved far down his throat. If 

 danger threatens, both parents are ready to fight 

 to the last, or even willing to give their lives to 

 protect him. Little wonder is it that the young 

 birds are loth to leave ; we can sjTupathise heart- 

 ily with the last weaker brother, whose feet cling 

 convulsively to the nest, who begs piteously for 

 "just one more caterpillar!" But the mother 

 bird is inexorable and stands a little way out of 

 reach with the juiciest morsel she can find. Once 

 out, the young bird never returns. Even if we 

 catch the little chap before he finishes his first 

 flight and replace him, the magic spell of home is 

 broken, and he is out again the instant our hand 

 frees him. 



What a change the first night brings ! Yet with 

 unfailing instinct he squats on some twig, fluffs up 

 his feathers, tucks his wee head behind his wing, 

 and sleeps the sleep of his first adult birdhood 

 as soundly as if this position of rest had been 

 familiar to him since he broke through the shelL 



We admire his aptitude for learning; how 

 quickly his wings gain strength and skill; how 

 soon he manages to catch his own dinner. But 



