Stories of Birds | Page 3

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 looked back. The chickadee now sat in the tree-top.
"Tell Mrs. Chickadee," called Phyllis, "that I shall spread some more crumbs and seeds on the white table-cloth this afternoon. We'll hang another bone in the cedar-tree, too!"
"Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!" cried the little bird in a flutter of delight.

TWENTY LITTLE CHICKADEES
Twenty little chickadees, Sitting in a row; Twenty pairs of naked feet Buried in the snow. I should think you'd fly away Where the weather's warm, Then you wouldn't have to be Out there in the storm.
Sorry little chickadees, Don't you know the way? Can't you find the road to go Where 'tis always May? Robins all have found it out, Wrens and bluebirds too, Don't you wish you'd thought to ask Ere away they flew?

THE SNOWBIRD'S SONG[1]
The ground was all covered with snow, one day, And two little