On one side of the room was a flat thing perched on four legs as high as the desk, called a table. The top of this was covered with more books and papers and photographs. Sometimes Fessor would put me on this table, and I used to go around and explore everything. In one corner of the room was a high pile of boxes, with shelves in them, on which were piled loose papers and more books and things. Such big boxes they were, and so deep, and such piles and piles of things in them! This afterwards became my playhouse and my hiding-place. My! what fun I had in it sometimes, and how glad I was to have it when I found out what a good hiding-place it was.
There were also some Indian baskets in the room, as well as a closet in which were piles of little boxes and a large leather case in which was a thing Fessor called his camera.
Of course, I didn’t find out about all these things at once. I’m just telling you all about them now, so that you will understand, and I shan’t have to tell you again.
The first night I went to nest in the house was a strange experience. Now just look what I’ve said: “Went to nest.” You see a little bird doesn’t think of going to bed, as boys and girls do. She goes to her nest. But there was no nest in Fessor’s den. He was too big to get into one if there had been one, and when it began to grow dark I wondered what would become of me. To be all alone in that dark, dark room would be terrible; and there was no getting to any other birds owing to that shut window. But I needn’t have been afraid. For, just as I was working myself up into a good deal of excitement, Fessor came in, and after giving me some more warm bread and milk,—which made me feel so comfortable and so sleepy,—he said: “And now, little birdie, I’ll have to find a bed for you.” Then I watched him from the desk, where he had placed me, and he got a large Indian basket, and after putting some soft white rags at the bottom, he caught me—though I tried to hop away—and putting me down amongst the rags, he wrapped me up in one of them, and then covered me up as snug and warm as could be. When he went away it was not long before I fell asleep.
Well! he used to do this every night for quite a long time, so that I soon got used to going to bed in the basket, instead of being in my nest, and slept as well as I had ever done before.
It was very strange that he should have hit upon the same name for me in his human talk as my father and mother had in their bird talk, yet it was so. I believe it was the second day after he brought me home that Mamma said to him: “What shall you call your baby bird?” In a moment Fessor replied: “Oh, I’ve already called her Scraggles. She is Scraggles, so she must be called Scraggles.” So, even in man’s speech, I’ve been Scraggles ever since.
Chapter III
My Second Week in the House
Ah, that second week! What a good week it was to me! It changed all my life and made a happy little bird out of me. I lost all my fear of Fessor and Mamma and Edith, and from then on we were the dearest and best of friends. Talk about my father and mother, and my loving them! Even though they were birds, they never showed me the love that this second week taught me was in the hearts of my three human friends. So I want to tell you all about it.
I believe it began that very night Fessor put me in the basket. For, though he was not so gentle as my mother was, somehow I felt that he felt more gentle towards me, and so, though I was still very much afraid of him, I began to get a new feeling in me that seemed to drive some of the fear away.