Madam Starling looks about with her clear, bright little eyes, and sees that the troublesome sparrows have all gone away; and her faithful mate lights on the topmost bough of a tree near by, and pours forth a song of rejoicing and of triumph.
But soon the wind blows cold from the north. Ah! old Winter comes back a moment or two just to see what Spring is about. The flakes descend on their black coats; and the starlings come out from their little house, and look about to see what's the matter.
Have they made a mistake? Oh, no! Soon the sun will be out. April has come, and the snow will not last long. They first go to work, and clean their little house, pitching out all the rubbish the sparrows have left there.
Straw, feathers, and hay must now be got for a nice fresh nest. This they soon make; and one day Madam Starling shows her mate five or six clear blue eggs in the nest. For nearly sixteen days she must sit brooding on these eggs; and then—what joy!—half a dozen bright little starlings make their appearance.
But, dear me, how hungry they are! Father and mother have just as much as they can do to feed them. The little ones seem to be crying all the time for "more, more!" Will they never get enough?
In a few weeks the children grow so strong and sleek, that Papa Starling says to them, "Now, boys and girls, you must learn to fly, and get your own living. Come, tumble out!"
So the young ones have to venture out; and soon they find they can pick up worms and seeds enough for themselves. What joy to fly from tree to tree! How pleasant to light among the green stalks and the flowers on the warm summer days! The starlings have a merry time of it; and, when winter comes, all they have to do is to fly southward.
No sooner are they gone than the sparrows again take possession of the forsaken house, in great delight at having such a nice warm dwelling for the winter.
Anna Livingston.