With the 
Blackbird. 
(28) 
THE BIRD WORLD. 
them myself. How’s the wife? You— 
hullo ! hi! Look out. There’s the cat; 
fly, fly ! That’s right. Come and sit on 
this peach wall, where we shall be quite 
safe. Oh, my poor heart! How it 
jumps; really, this is quite upsetting.” 
Then, apostrophising the disappointed 
cat, who saw her breakfast far out of her 
reach : “ Oh ! you villainous, green-eyed 
brute! Did you think you had us that 
time ? Ha! ha! you’re not so sharp as 
your claws.” (To the Hawfinch : “ Shall 
I ever get over this shock?”) To the 
cat: “You needn’t imagine for one 
moment that I was frightened by the 
sight of your ugly face. No, indeed; 
when I gave such a loud cry I was 
merely warning my friend, the Hawfinch, 
who was looking the other way. It was 
not on my account, I can assure you. 
I should advise you to go home and 
catch mice, you sneak; you’re really not 
fit for anything else. Ta-ta!” and he 
flew with mendacious jauntiness into the 
rose garden, where two young Blackbirds 
were squabbling over a caterpillar. 
His Children Greet Him. 
“ Hullo, father! ” exclaimed they. 
“ Delighted to see you. We haven’t met 
for some time. What news have you ? 
But did somebody say 'cats’ just now? 
What are they? Tell us all about them 
whilst we divide this wriggling grub.” 
“ I’m always glad to see you, my chil¬ 
dren,” panted Tom, beginning to regain 
his composure. “ I should have known 
you anywhere, though you have grown 
very much since the day that I first took 
you out hunting. Ah! that was last 
April; such a long, long time ago ! But 
what’s that you’ve got ? Goodness 
gracious, dearest children, it’s a most 
unwholesome kind of grub; that is to 
say, at least, I mean, one not at all 
suited to the weakly digestion of the 
young. Here, give it to me; I daresay 
it won’t do me any harm. But you were 
asking about cats. I’ve just had an 
awful fright caused by one of those crea¬ 
tures. He lives in this garden; so take 
care. I can’t tell you very much about 
them, never having studied them at close 
quarters ; but I do know that they, must 
be avoided at all costs. They have 
claws, oh! dreadful ones, not at all like 
ours, and if a bird once gets entangled 
in them, well, it’s all up with him. My 
poor mother came to a sad end that 
way. I was very young at the time, but 
I can remember to this day her piercing 
screams and the look of despair on her 
face as the bloodthirsty monster seized 
her and-but I cannot go on. It 
was heartrending ! Occasionally, even 
at this distance of time, I wake at nights 
shuddering with the horror and the 
awfulness of it. There’s nothing in this 
world so utterly appalling as cats, unless 
it’s a gardener. And here comes one of 
them with a watering-can, so we had 
better clear out. If you like to meet me 
about seven o’clock in the strawberry 
beds I’ll describe all the varieties of 
traps that I know. By-bye ! ” 
Then he flitted away from the garden 
and settled on an oak-tree growing on 
the outskirts of a wood. The sun, by 
this time, was high in the heavens, and 
from his post of observation the Black¬ 
bird could see that the haymakers were 
busily opening the cocks preparatory to 
carrying in the evening. The midges, 
forgetful of the softening influence of 
early dawn, tickled the heads of the 
horses, and made life a burden to the 
cows. A cart on its way to the country 
town rattled down the road just under 
Tom’s tree, but the two women in it 
were discussing the prices of new-laid 
eggs and fresh butter, and so paid no 
heed to his mellow voice. A furtive 
little truant from school threw a stone at 
him, and then quickly disappeared into 
the wood in search of the scribbled eggs 
of the Yellowhammer in the nest on the 
mossy bank. 
A Noontide Siesta. 
Gradually the rays of the sun grew 
fiercer and fiercer till a sultry somno¬ 
lence checked the songs of the birds. 
Master Tom caught himself nodding in 
the midst of one of his most impassioned 
phrases, the haymakers retired into the 
shade to eat their dinner, and the gnats 
murmured : “ It is noonday. How much 
longer shall we live ? ” The sun winked 
at a daisy, and said: “ Now we have it 
all to ourselves, sweetheart. How lovely 
you are, you darling of the poets! 
When I kissed you this morning, tipping 
