174 BAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



as absurd. I hare often been astonished at the boldness 

 of many a timid creature when it believed the dreaded 

 foe before it was either asleep or dead. Nor can it be 

 shown that bravery or fear depends upon the presence or 

 absence of motion. Certainly both birds and mammals 

 have discriminative powers largely developed, and recog- 

 nize even slight differences. We all know, too, how in- 

 different birds become to locomotives, even when the 

 whistle screams and the smoke-stack belches forth its 

 sooty clouds. 



I have noticed, while lounging in the beech tree's 

 branches, for how long the young of many birds follow 

 their parents. This feature of bird-life necessarily varies 

 a great deal, but is more prolonged with many species than 

 is recorded. Many a young bird is practically helpless for 

 days after it has learned to fly. What an awkward little 

 ragamuffin, for instance, is the young nuthatch when ac- 

 quiring his scrambling powers ! I watched one of a late 

 brood recently imitating its parent, and it was pure imi- 

 tation. Not a morsel did it find, or expect to, I take it, 

 for it never ceased a most doleful chirping which touched 

 the heart of the lithe parent, which fed it continually 

 with white, waxy grubs delved from hidden crannies in 

 the bark. When the old bird flew, the youngster followed, 

 and the call of the former was always echoed by the 

 querulous cry of the fledgling. If other birds came near, 

 it flew to the branch whereon its parent happened to be at 

 the moment, and begged protection with trailing, trem- 

 bling wings. 



The flicker — or pigeon woodpecker — often feeds its 

 young when the latter are fully grown and strong upon 

 the wing ; the rose-breasted grosbeak does the same, and 

 last summer a brood of pewees was fed at times, by their 

 parents, after a second brood was hatched and constantly 

 clamoring for food. Busier birds than these poor parents 



