THE INSTINCT OF BIRDS. 
39 
Friday, 14th. — Rainy morning. Passing through one of the 
village streets this afternoon, we saw a robin's nest in a very low 
and exposed position. The honest creatures must have great 
confidence in their neighbors, which, it is to be hoped, will not be 
abused. It was in the corner of an out-building facing the street, 
and so near the side-walk, that it looked as though one could 
shake hands with the inmates across the paling. It was entirely 
unscreened; a stray branch of a neighboring locust projected, in- 
deed, above it ; but if the robins expect the foliage to shelter 
them, at this early day, they have made a sad miscalculation. 
The mother bird was on the nest as we passed, sitting, of course ; 
she slowly moved her large brown eyes toward us as we stopped 
to watch her, but without the least expression of fear ; — indeed, 
she must see the village people coming and going all day long, as 
she sits there on her nest.^ 
What a very remarkable instinct is that of a sitting bird. By 
nature the winged creatures are full of life and activity, appa- 
rently needing little repose, flitting the live long day through the 
fields and gardens, seldom pausing except to feed, to dress their 
feathers, or to sing ; — abroad, many of them, before dawn, and 
still passing to and fro across the darkening sky of the latest twi- 
hght ; — capable also, when necessary, of a prolonged flight which 
stretches across seas and continents. And yet there is not one of 
these little winged mothers but what will patiently sit, for hour 
after hour, day after day, upon her unhatched brood, warming 
them with her breast — carefully turning them — that all may 
share the heat equally, and so fearful lest they should be chilled, 
that she will rather sufl'er hunger herself than leave them long 
exposed. That it is no unusual drowsiness which comes over 
