"If you will look closely," said the meadow lark, pecking away at her own brown feathers, "if you look very, very closely, you will see the tiny path which leads directly to my door."
Phyllis leaned down and peered very curiously among the grass stems. Sure enough, there was a tiny winding path, almost hidden from sight. It led directly to the meadow lark's nest.
"You are a very wonderful little bird," she cried.
"I shall have some very wonderful babies one of these fine days," said the meadow lark, proudly.
"How safely they will be hidden from danger," said Phyllis.
"Well," said the mother bird, shaking her head, sadly, "I am very sure that I build in a safer manner than my cousins. But, alas, even meadow larks are not free from danger."
"I might have stepped on your nest?" said Phyllis.
"Yes," said the bird, "but what makes me fear most are the field-mice and the snakes. They make great havoc in our nests when they discover them. Many a tiny fledgling has been swallowed by a great creeping, crawling snake. Many a beautiful egg has been eaten by the hungry little field-mice."
"I hope no harm will come to your little home," said Phyllis. "I notice one thing which you have for a protection from harm."
"What is that?" asked the meadow lark.