A MEADOW CHRONICLE 



93 



est apprehension, swallowed eagerly each 

 one his share. 



Knowing neither their names nor sex, I 

 numbered them No. i, 2, 3, and 4, al- 

 though after each scrabble for food I was 

 never quite sure that they regained the 

 same order. The male or female, which- 

 ever it might be, after the nightshade 

 course of their breakfast, sought again the 

 meadow, and after a wild chase managed 

 to capture a small moth which went to 

 No. 2. After this the parent disappeared 

 toward the other end of the orchard, and 

 the youngsters settled down to take a 

 short nap, with one eye open, no 

 doubt, for danger, and looking 

 like four grayish puff balls. As 

 the old kingbird did not again 

 appear I turned my attention to 

 the chippies. 



These babies, also four in num- 

 ber, gave their loving parents even 

 more trouble than did the young 

 kings, for one never stayed in the 

 same tree for five minutes, and 

 one or more often followed the male or 

 female about (both parents were pres- 

 ent) begging for food. The brood kept 



