“Nonsense!” said the father woodpigeon. “It is what all birds ought to do-oo-oo-oo.”
“Yes; but it isn’t what they all do do-oo-oo-oo,” said the mother woodpigeon.
“More shame for those who do not,” said the father woodpigeon; “but I hope there are not many.” And then they both waited for Tommy Smith to ask them another question.
“Please, Mrs. Woodpigeon,” said Tommy Smith, “what do you feed your young ones with?”
“We feed them with whatever we eat ourselves,” said the mother woodpigeon, “and we always swallow it first, to be sure that it is quite good.”
This surprised Tommy Smith very much indeed, for it seemed to him almost as wonderful as eating stones. “Oh! but if you swallow the food yourselves,” he said, “how can your young ones have it?”
“They don’t have it till we bring it up again,” said the father woodpigeon. “They put their beaks inside ours, and then it comes up into our mouths all ready for them to swallow.”
“Isn’t that rather nasty?” said Tommy Smith.
“You had better ask them about that,” said the mother woodpigeon. “They will tell you whether it is nasty or not.”
“They think it nice,” said the father woodpigeon.