A MARTINET IN FEATHERS 
lous time at the home, I never knew. Once 
during that week I came upon a male robin 
feeding a solitary birdling at least a mile 
away from the tree I had been watching. 
It seemed improbable that they should have 
wandered so far away, and yet the coinci- 
dence of one baby with the father, is not 
frequent in the robin family, where all 
keep together so long. On the fifth day 
after the flight of the eldest son one of the 
two stay-at-homes actually ventured out of 
the nest as far as the nearest twig. This 
boldness so astonished the last nestling 
that, actuated by some occult impulse, he 
too resolved to try. As he balanced hesi- 
tatingly on the edge, the mother darted 
suddenly toward him, thereby precipitating 
a “ fly or fall ” crisis. Both nestlings flew 
— blindly — and landed in the shelter 
of a hawthorn-bush. There they sat all 
day, and about five p. m. fluttered to the 
lowest branch of a sapling for the night. 
The mother slept there with them that 
first night, and by morning they had all 
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