“Well, I don’t know,” retorted the Rook; “think of the long, long journey! Think of the miles and miles of ocean to be crossed, think of the weary wings, think of the poor breathless birds. They often perch to rest a while on the passing ships, and they often get knocked down and killed. Then again, just think how they must suffer from the cold here in England, after the warm climates they have wintered in. No, depend upon it,” said the Rook, shaking his head wisely, “it’s far better to spend the winter here at home and get healthy and hardy. There are many nights when you and I are warm and comfortable that these unhappy swallows are crouched shivering under the eaves. In my humble opinion there’s nothing like England, dear old England, for English birds.”
You see this old Rook was very patriotic, and of course a great Tory to boot. He disliked change of every sort and kind. He, and his ancestors before him, had built in these same elm-trees, since the first gray stone of the old mansion had been laid. From these same trees, from generation to 43 generation, they had watched the sun rise and set during the stormy days of winter and the sunny days of summer. They had noted the seasons as they came and went, enjoying the fruits and the joys of each, and when any rook was cut off by death, it was generally old age that killed him,––unless it were that occasionally a youngster, more enterprising than prudent, would lean out of his nest to see the world around him, and what was going on there, and then a sudden rush of his small body through the air, and a thud at the foot of the tree, would tell of the premature decease of a promising rooklet. Yes, “Old England for ever!” was still the watchword of the rooks.
“Certainly it is very delightful just now,” said the Blackbird, looking round him. Delicate young leaves were bursting forth on every side; primroses, anemones, and even a few early cowslips were peering through the grass below, the sun was shining, and the woods were filled with a chorus of song.
“Yes indeed,” said the Rook solemnly “‘the stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed time, and the turtle, and the crane, and the swallow observe the time of their coming.’”
This conversation, and all his other talks and small adventures, were faithfully reported to the home-tied wife. His voice beguiled the many weary hours during which she patiently sat on her nest.
It was thus that matters went on until towards the end of the thirteenth day, when certain mysterious sounds were heard to proceed from the nest, faint peckings, which would cease and then begin again. One day, while his wife was taking her mid-day meal, the Blackbird hopped close to the nest, and put his head over the side, and as he watched and listened, lo and behold, through a slight crack in the blue shell of one of the eggs peeped a very tiny beak!
It was very marvellous! This beak moved backwards and forwards, and in and out, and gradually, the crack becoming larger, a small featherless head emerged. Yes, so it was; and before sunset the following day five callow little birds lay huddled together in the nest, and although they were his own sons and daughters, it must be confessed that the Blackbird could not help thinking them remarkably ugly. They had very few feathers on their poor naked little bodies, their heads appeared to be of an 45 enormous and disproportionate size,––and then, their mouths!
As they squatted in the nest with their five mouths opened to their widest, displaying five red throats, the Blackbird thought that never before in all his long life had he seen anything so frightful. How such enormous creatures had ever come out of those five pretty little eggs he could not imagine. However, he had no time for reflection, for what on earth did those eager little monsters mean by gaping at him like that?
At last it occurred to him that they might be hungry, and thereupon he and his wife set off to pick up small worms and insects for them. The Blackbird fancied that being so very young they would require delicate feeding, but this proved to be an entire mistake. Never before had he thought it possible that such small bodies could dispose of so much food. From morning to night, and almost from night to morning, he and his poor wife were to be seen flying backwards and forwards conveying provisions to the nest.