It was now about nine o’clock. The rest of the day was spent quietly among the vines. After they had rested a little from the excitement of their first flight, Mother tried to keep them moving from vine to vine. One was more clever than the others. He learned everything quickly.
The Wren family lived in the vines all the next day. On the third day Mother Wren began to coax them farther away. Back and forth she flew between the porch and my neighbor’s tree, and around in circles, to show the babies how to do it. Father Wren coaxed them on with a white worm in his bill. He was not singing much now, because these growing birds needed more and more food. Also, father-wisdom bade him keep quiet lest his babies be discovered and come to harm.
The cleverest of the four was also the biggest; so it was easy to tell him from the rest. Again, he was always the first to venture. But as he neared the tree, when he had almost reached his goal, he began to drop; and he fell to the ground. Fearing some harm might come to him, I went down quickly with the long-handled dust mop. It was fuzzy, and soft for him to rest on. With it I hoisted him to a low branch. Mother and Father Wren scolded, but went to the young bird as soon as my back was turned. Birds do not like to have people meddle with their affairs; but sometimes when they are in trouble we can help them.
Maybe this little mishap showed Mother Wren that her babies were not yet strong enough to fly so far. Anyway, she waited until the next day before she urged the others to go. Even then she was not quite decided. At dinner time the three were still on the porch. They had reached the highest rung of the trellis. In the afternoon, when I returned from school, they were gone. Father Wren was again singing his cheery songs. He had kept pretty quiet while the little ones were learning to fly. Why? Because he did not want anyone to find out where they were.
My robins, meanwhile, had made themselves a nest on a high window sill at the far end of the porch; but not until the wrens began nesting did I discover it. Already there were three blue eggs in it. The robins seemed so distressed at being found out that we kept away from that end of the porch until they got well used to us. The wrens didn’t fear us at all. They came to their nest no matter how many people were on the porch.
I had now learned what the wrens and the robins like for their nestings; so I fastened strings, shreds of cloth, some cotton, and small chicken feathers to the low branches of my neighbor’s trees, and also on my porch. I had read somewhere that some birds will pull feathers out of their own bodies, if they can find none elsewhere, with which to line their nests. After the wrens had cleaned out the can, they helped themselves to cotton and feathers, and made ready for their second nesting.
Father and Mother Robin were such devoted parents, it seemed as if they couldn’t do enough. Their babies always craned their necks and opened their bills wide as soon as they heard anyone near. As they grew older they also chattered and flapped their wings. Sometimes they fluttered over the sides of the nest so far that I feared they would fall off the high window sill.
THE BABY ROBINS
One morning the robins’ nest was empty, and the young were over on my neighbor’s lawn. For convenience I will call this neighbor Mrs. Daily. She lived on our right. The neighbor to our left was Mrs. Cotton.