This one was hardly two feet from the ground, and might have escaped notice, had not the cuckoo-mother been looking for such an one. But even the Vixen who was not tender-hearted could not help feeling sorry for the hard-working couple, kept constantly busy to feed the thief who had thrown their proper offspring out of the nest with such complete unconcern. Possibly their hard work served to help them to forget their troubles.
Father Cuckoo to admit any responsibility though the Vixen, having a mother’s feelings for the time being, remonstrated with him.
“You can’t blame a young cuckoo, not a fortnight old for being hungry, and wanting all the food,” he said. “And you can’t blame me or his mother, for we were both brought into the world in the same fashion, and know no other. There are cousins of ours in America who make nests and bring up their young in the usual fashion; but for unknown generations they have had this custom, and we, on the other hand, have had ours.
“Nobody can explain these things. Why should I have such dull, ugly feathers, for example, when some of my African cousins have a plumage that shines as though each feather had been dipped in gold? Twice a year I moult, never without a hope that the new suit will be a brilliant one. But I remain dull and shabby; my partners are like me, and have no taste for domesticity.
“On the other hand, we can enjoy the knowledge that we are among the best loved birds in the world, so far as mankind is concerned; that thousands associate the summer with our song, and find the woodland empty when we are summoned south again. All these things are matters of natural law, and you must take us as we are, while we take the world as we find it.”
“What you say may satisfy you,” said the Vixen severely; “but it cannot be expected to satisfy the hedge-sparrow.”
“Perhaps there is no need to think about them,” rejoined the Cuckoo. “You must know that if those birds were left undisturbed, they would raise from twelve to eighteen young every season, for the hens lay three times. In a few years there would be hedge-sparrows in clouds, far more than the land can support. So Nature teaches them to set their nests in open places, where Robin, the horseman’s lad, and all his school companions, may take the eggs by the dozen, and the magpie or the rook may help themselves.”
“Well,” she said, “you won’t deny that the mother cuckoo is quite heartless?”
“I do deny it,” replied the father. “She will be somewhere near the nest, and will make it her business to see that the youngster is doing well. So soon as he is able to fly she will take charge of him and bring him up in the way he should go. She keeps an eye on all her family.”
“But how came he to kill the little birds?” persisted the Vixen. “We only kill for food at this time of year.”