RUSTLING WINGS 



169 



These birds were quite tame and had 

 nested close to the foot-path, so that I 

 really had an intimate friendship with 

 them. In early August I missed them, 

 but when, during the second week of 

 September, after some very rough 

 weather, I was looking out early one 

 morning at a small flock of robins, I 

 saw my albino among them. In an 

 hour or so, he was prying about in his 

 garden haunts, with an inquiring air, 

 to see what changes had occurred in 

 his absence. 



Another day we hung some bunches 

 of half-ripe grapes on the boughs of a 

 pear tree, and watched to see what 

 birds would come to take them. Many 

 catbirds had returned, pert as ever, but 

 they had forgotten their songs, and the 

 cool nights had stiffened their throats 

 into mewing. These catbirds spied the 

 grapes first, and the robins followed, 



