So it ended in the couple building under the dining-room porch on the shelf-like top of a column. Mrs. Phœbe chose this instead of a window-ledge because from here she could look into the window while brooding her eggs. “You may laugh at me all you choose,” said she to her husband, “for I did wish the house empty. Since it cannot be, however, I might as well see what the people in it do.”
“I was not laughing, my dear,” answered her husband meekly (you remember that he had been married before). “I was only smiling with pleasure at our fine nest. You have so much taste in arranging grasses!”
That was the way in which the Phœbes began housekeeping. It was not always easy, sitting on the nest day after day as Mrs. Phœbe had to, with only a chance now and then to stretch her tired legs. She was even glad that people lived in the house. “It gives me something to think about,” said she, “although I do get much out of patience with them sometimes. Much they know about bringing up children! That Boy of theirs eats only three times a day. How can they ever hope to raise him unless he eats more? Now, I expect to feed my children all the time, and that is the way to do.” Here she darted away to catch a Fly who came blundering along.
“It’s a good thing for that Fly that I got him,” she said, smilingly. “It saved him from being caught in the Spider’s web over there, and I am sure it is much pleasanter to be swallowed whole by a polite Phœbe than to be nibbled at by a horrid Spider.”
Mr. Phœbe sometimes brought her a dainty morsel, but he spent much of his time by the hydrant. “There is not much chance to bathe,” he said, as he wallowed around in the little pool beside it, “but it is something to smell water. You know we Phœbes like to fly in and out of ponds and rivers, even when we cannot stop for a real bath.” His favorite perch was on the top of a tall pole covered with cinnamon vine, in the flower garden. Here he would sit for a whole morning at a time, darting off now and then for an insect, but always returning to the same place and position. He did not even face the other way for a change.
The little Phœbes were hatched much like other birds, and were about as good and about as naughty as children usually are. Mrs. Phœbe was positive that they were remarkable in every way. Mr. Phœbe, having raised other broods, did not think them quite so wonderful, although he admitted that there was not another nestling on the place to compare with them. “Still,” as he would modestly remark, “we must remember that we are the only Phœbes here, and that it is not fair to compare them with the young of other birds. You could not expect our neighbors’ children to be as bright as they.”
Unfortunately there were only two little Phœbes, so each parent could give all his time to one. The mother cared for the son and the father for the daughter. When it was time for them to learn to catch their own Flies, these children did not want to do so. The father made his daughter learn, in spite of the fuss she made. He gave her his old perch on the cinnamon-vine pole, and told her that she must try to catch every insect that flew past. This was after she had been out of the nest several days, and had learned to use her feet and wings.
“If you do not,” he said, “I shall not feed you anything.” When she pouted her bill, he paid no attention to it, and she soon stopped. There is no use in pouting, you know, unless somebody is looking at you and wishing that you wouldn’t. Perhaps it was because he had brought up children before that Mr. Phœbe was so wise.
Mrs. Phœbe meant to be very firm also, but when her son whimpered and said that he couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t, catch a single one, and that he was sure he would tumble to the ground if he tried it, she always felt sorry for him and said: “Perhaps you can to-morrow.” Then she would catch food for him again.
This is how it happened that, day after day, a plump and strong young Phœbe sat on a branch of the syringa bush and let his tired mother feed him. At last his father quite lost patience and interfered. “My dear,” he said to his wife, “I will be with our son to-day, and you may have a rest.”