One Sunday morning I had been giving him a longer lesson than usual, for he was singing better than I had ever heard him. All at once he stopped short, flew as usual into the dining-room, where the door was opened on to the piazza, and out of it he went, soaring way up in the air. It was a glorious day, and when he lighted in a tall tree up the street, I could hear him singing with delight. If I could have had the street to myself, I am sure I could have gotten him, but it was just the hour when the children were returning from Sunday school, and I could not keep them away. Twice he came within a few feet of me, then the boys or the rustle of the leaves frightened him away. For weeks he was about, and I spent many hours trying to get him to come to me. He always answered my call, but seemed afraid to fly down to me.
I would not have taken hundreds of dollars for him, and whatever became of him I know not, but I fear he perished when winter came, as he knew nothing about migrating.
CHAPTER VI.
SOME TRANSIENT PATIENTS
A young meadow-lark was brought to me one morning by a small boy, whose dog had chased it and broken its leg. I had never had any experience in setting bones, but, as there is always a first time, I thought I could at least try, even if I did not succeed. I found it was not a very easy thing to do alone, but, after trying a number of times, I managed to get my toothpick splint on securely. For several days the leg seemed to be doing nicely, and I felt quite proud of my work and sure the leg was knitting. All at once the bird began to smell very badly, and in a few days it died, so I think it must have been hurt internally.
Another morning I had an orchard oriole brought to me. He, like the Prince of Wales, had been shot. One wing was broken and there was a deep flesh wound underneath. I did not expect to save him, but, after a few days, the wound healed and he was perfectly well, except the broken wing, which did not bother him. He seemed very happy, even if he could only fly a very little, and spent most of his time hopping about on the floor. His favourite perching-place was on the top of a candle on my dressing-table.
One morning he came over to my bed and woke me by pecking my hands. As it was too early for me to wake, I put him on the floor and went to sleep. When I got up, I could not find my pretty Duke. He had never been in my dressing-room, but that morning the light must have attracted him, as my room was dark, and in trying to hop on the edge of the water-jar he fell in.
You can imagine my horror when I saw him in the water dead, with his lovely feathers all spoiled, and I felt I had been a careless nurse.
A cousin brought to the hospital from the country a young snipe. She was so afraid it would get away, she put it into a shoe box which was too small, then tied the cover down tight, without making one hole to let the air in. Consequently, when she arrived, the bird was just gasping and almost dead.
I had never seen a young snipe before, and I was so anxious to save it. It was a beauty. Of course, it was all legs and feet, but they were really beautiful in shape, and the colour like the soft shade of green in young twigs. I worked over it four hours, hoping I might bring it back to life, but it was beyond me. It was a most pitiful sight to see it take so long to die.
I was very glad one day to have the pleasure of looking over a chimney swift, but, as it was an old bird and not hurt in the least, I felt it would be cruel to keep it in the hospital. It was so frightened it did not fly off from my hand for five minutes after I took it out-of-doors.