“Supposing,” said Louis, “that the wren takes only the worms that attack pears, that would be one hundred and fifty-six thousand pears the little birds would save for us in one day?”
“Evidently.” [[218]]
“But that is beyond belief.”
“I admit that the result is very great in comparison with the means employed. A tiny bird that nobody notices goes pecking here and there, and we find that at the end of the day the caterpillar-eater has destroyed, either in the egg or in the nymph-stage or in the final form, thousands of insects which, if allowed to live, would have deprived us of enormous basketfuls of fruit and hundreds of bushels of grain. If we were to estimate the value of the crops saved by insectivorous birds, it would be a fabulous sum. Leave them, therefore, in peace, my children, and do all you can to protect them; for these busy little creatures ward off famine from our homes.
“While we are on the subject let us speak of another little Tom Thumb of a bird, another caterpillar-destroyer as energetic as the wren. It is called the kinglet, that is to say, the little king, on account of the crown of golden yellow edged with black that encircles its head. It is the smallest of our birds. It is olive-colored above and yellowish-white beneath. Its beautiful crown feathers can stand up like a crest.
Goldcrest
(An American species of kinglet)
“The kinglet breeds in the cold countries of Europe, and especially in the fir forests of Norway. Its nest is a little ball no bigger than your fist, open at [[219]]the top, artistically fashioned outside with moss, wool, and spiders’ webs, and lined with the softest down. It rests flat on some fir branch at an inaccessible height. The eggs, from six to eight in number, are of a uniform flesh color.
“Although very delicate in appearance, the kinglet stands the cold with great hardihood. It comes to us from the land of its birth in small flocks when the autumnal fogs are gathering and the leaves are falling. These flocks of five or six birds at most scatter through the woods, public promenades, and orchards, to examine the cracks in bark, to explore the heaps of dead leaves, and to inspect the buds while clinging to the tips of the smallest branches. Not even the tomtit shows itself a more expert gymnast in hanging with head downward and working in all sorts of attitudes. The task of destroying caterpillars is accompanied by a continual little rallying cry: zee-zee-zee, zee-zee-zee.