It is true our noisy neighbors, the blue-jays, sometimes disturbed my
mother by their hoarse chattering when she was weary of wing and wanted
a quiet hour to meditate, but they disturbed us younger ones very
little. My mother did not think they were ever still a minute.
Constantly hopping back and forth, first on one bough, then on another,
flirting down between times to pick up a cricket or a bug, they were
indeed, a most fidgetty set. Their restlessness extended even to their
handsome top-knots, which they jerked up and down like a questioning
eyebrow. They were beautiful to look at had they only possessed a
little of the dignity and composure of our family. But as I said, we
little ones did not trouble ourselves about them.
The air was so pleasant, our nest so cozy, and our parents provided us
such a plentiful diet of nice worms and bugs, that like other
thoughtless babies who have nothing to do but eat, sleep, and grow, we
had no interest in things outside and did not dream there was such a
thing as vexation or sorrow or crime in this beautiful world. When our
parents were off gathering our food, we seldom felt lonely, for we
nestled snugly and kept each other company by telling what we would do
when we should be strong enough to fly.
At this stage of our existence we were as ungainly a lot of children as
could well be imagined.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25