“Oh, we’re afraid!” cried the littlest of the birdies.
“Our wings might come off, and then we’d drop to the ground,” said another little bird, as it fluttered back into the nest.
“Nonsense!” cried the mamma bird. “Your wings will not drop off and you will not fall. You must learn to fly now. You are getting old enough to fly for yourselves. Come, Pickie!” she called to the one who had gone back in the nest, “stand in line with the others and learn to fly.”
“Oh, mamma! I can’t! Really I can’t!” cried Pickie, who was given that name because he had such a sharp little bill for picking up bread crumbs.
“You must learn to fly,” said the mamma bird. “Your papa will soon be home, and think how proud he will be if you can fly to meet him!”
“Oh, we are afraid,” said the little birds.
It is just like when baby first learns to walk. At the beginning he is afraid to take a step alone, but soon he grows braver and toddles all over.
“Come! Fly!” called the mamma bird.
“We are afraid—afraid!” chirped the little birdies.
“Ha! I think I can help the mamma bird give them their flying lesson,” said Uncle Wiggily. “I will go up in my airship and float slowly along. I will keep right under the little birds, and I’ll tell them that if their wings give out, and if they fall, they will land on my umbrella and not get hurt at all.”