THE STORY OF NAN 



she attacked this covering with claws and beak 

 getting so tangled that we had to remove it. The bot- 

 tom of that basket was far too dull a place to suit her 

 tastes ; she wished to perch upon the rim, day or night. 

 Here she took her daytime naps, and by the twelfth 

 day she managed to tuck her head under her tiny wing. 

 Several days before this she had begun to have real 

 feathers and to preen them. 



At my west window the screen is divided horizon- 

 tally so that the lower part slides upward for placing 

 food and water on the birds' table outside. This 

 ledge where the two screens join Nan adopted as her 

 own, and on the ninth day began to take short flights 

 accepting my shoulder as a city of refuge. Gradually 

 she extended her excursions to my desk, to the big 

 table, and then across the room to the different pictures. 



Now she fluttered her wings at sight of food, and 

 we varied her diet with chopped pecans and bits of 

 apple. She would hop across from one of my shoul- 

 ders to the other, peering up at my lips for the ex- 

 pected tidbit. I fed her always on my finger or 

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