Stories of Birds | Page 3

book that you were fond of pecking at meat bones. He
will be glad to know that it is true!"
"Thank him for us," said the chickadee. "You were kind to remember
us!"
"Ah," said Phyllis, "but it was kind of you to remain behind to cheer us
when all the other birds have gone to warmer lands.
"But, chickadee, though you are so cheery and gay in winter, are you
not really happier in the summer-time?"
"Oh, we are so busy in summer," the chickadee replied. "Last May I
travelled miles and miles looking for a vacant house."
"Looking for a vacant house?" cried Phyllis, with wide brown eyes.
"For housekeeping," said the chickadee. "You see my mate and I had
never kept house before. She was very anxious to find a most suitable
place.
"My wife said a woodpecker's nest was the very place, but I rather
preferred a squirrel's hole.
"For a long time we could find neither to suit us. But at length I heard
Mrs. Chickadee calling loudly. I flew to her side at once.
"'What is it?' I cried.
"'Look!' cried Mrs. Chickadee, pointing with her bill and flapping her
wings with joy.
"Through the thick of the woods ran a gray old rail fence. Woodbine
and wild hop vines wellnigh covered it. The posts were gray where they
were not moss-covered.
"In one of these gray-green posts was a hole where a pair of
woodpeckers had once built their nest.

"'This is the very place for us!' cried Mrs. Chickadee. 'It could not be
better though we hollowed it out for ourselves.'"
"Could you?" asked Phyllis, looking at the bird's little short black bill.
"If need be, we could, indeed," replied the chickadee. "But we would
far rather find a knot-hole, or a squirrel's or woodpecker's deserted nest.
"When we had decided on the spot," the bird went on, "we at once
began lining the nest. We carried fine grasses and soft feathers. We
found mosses and rabbits' fur to make it soft.
"Those were indeed happy days for us. They were also exciting days.
We were very careful to let no one know what we were about.
"Once, as I flew home with a bit of moss, I saw a boy lying on the grass
not far from our fence-post. It would never do to let him know our
secret. Boys are not to be trusted.
"I perched upon the fence and pretended that I had never a thought of
nest building.
"In a moment Mrs. Chickadee came flying home with a soft, downy
feather. When I called out warningly she at once flew to me.
"Then the boy called softly to his little sister.
"'Come quick,' he said, 'if you want to watch these birds build their
nest.'
"A little dark-eyed girl crept up beside the boy. We scarcely knew what
to do. Soon a bright idea occurred to me. I began to sing my very best. I
also performed my most wonderful tricks. I whirled round and round. I
darted between the rails. I spun about.
"The children became so interested in my performance that they forgot
to watch Mrs. Chickadee. When they were not looking her way, she
flew to the nest and arranged the feather.

"When she returned she took my place on the fence. Now my wife and
I look very much alike, and though she cannot perform quite as nimbly
as I, the children did not know when we changed places.
"While the children watched her I flew to the nest with my bit of moss.
"'What a pity!' said the little girl, as we flew away laughing to ourselves.
'They stopped to play and they lost the bits of moss and feathers with
which they meant to make their nest!'
"'Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee!' called back my wife
happily."
All this time Phyllis's eyes were growing rounder and bigger.
"Why," said she, "I never knew there was but one bird performing on
the fence. I thought the other flew away!"
"That was because Mrs. Chickadee and I look so much alike," replied
Mr. Chickadee.
"But we did find your nest a few days later," said Phyllis. "In it were
six small white eggs covered with tiny red specks. We went to look at
the nest every day until the eggs hatched. Then we went several times a
day until the baby birds learned to fly and left the nest empty.
"But you did not disturb us," said the chickadee, "though we were
dreadfully frightened at first."
At that moment a great soft snowball went plump! against Phyllis's red
cap.
"Jack!" she cried, scrambling off the fence and running after the boy
with the scratch on his nose. "Jack, take me for a ride on your sled!"
Then she