50 
BY THE WAYSIDE 
there were some very wordy disputes re¬ 
garding the matter. Every time the 
sparrows came they were driven off and 
the phoebes went on with their building. 
When they went away however for fresh 
material, one or the other, and sometimes 
both of the sparrows would come and 
tear down as much of the nest as was 
possible before the larger but more peace¬ 
able birds could return and defend their 
own. For a few days it seemed as if 
the phoebes would win out, but as soon 
as the little ragamuffins of sparrows 
found that they were being worsted, 
they did as all curs do, they went for 
their “gang,” and one morning one of 
the servants came running in saying that 
the birds were having a “terrible 
fight” on the back porch. Everybody 
hurried to see what was going on, and 
sure enough, war was declared in earnest. 
The sparrows had gathered their forces 
to the number of five or six, and while 
some of them held the phoebes at bay, 
the others attacked the nest and it was 
soon lying on the floor of the porch in 
bits. And such a screaming as they 
kept up! It was a regular common 
street row such as might take place in 
the slums of some great city. All day 
long it kept up, and of course at last 
the poor phoebes were beaten and every¬ 
one thought that that would be the end 
of their efforts at nesting in that place 
for the year at any rate. But no, they 
simply waited until the next day when 
they began another nest on the front 
porch. This was hardly started when 
the sparrows were at them again and 
drove them off. This time they did not 
fight so hard but shifted their field of 
operations back to their former site once 
more, only to be mobbed a third time by 
the horde of little feathered pirates. 
Surely they would be discouraged this 
time, it was thought, but again and yet 
again they presisted in their efforts to 
maintain their homes against the invad¬ 
ers. On the morning of the fifth day, 
when they seemed about to give up, hu¬ 
man help appeared, and women with 
brooms and a boy with stones, chased 
every sparrow as far as they could, even 
at the risk of frightening the phoebes at 
the same time. 
The latter seemed to understand how¬ 
ever that the weapons and missiles were 
not meant for them, and when the enemy 
was thoroughly frightened, and had fled 
shrieknig to the bushes across the road 
they once more took courage and started 
afresh. This time they succeeded in 
completing their nest and rearing their 
young ones in peace and quiet which 
they had so well earned. 
This all happened three years ago, and 
although there are always plenty of spar¬ 
rows about the place all the time, never 
again have they attempted, to break up 
the phoebes home, and this spring for the 
sixth time the peaceful little couple, or 
another exactly like them, in their suits 
of Quaker gray and their plaintive calls 
in the early morning, are busy feeding 
a very promising brood, and every one 
is hoping that they will be ready to leave 
the nest before “fly-time” arrives and 
the screen must go up on the back porch. 
