If you ask the boy there who tells you the law, "Why not a chickadee
as well as a sparrow?" he shakes his head as of yore, and answers
dogmatically: "'Cause you mustn't."
* * * * *
CHICKADEE'S SECRET.
If you meet Chickadee in May with a bit of rabbit fur in his mouth, or
if he seem preoccupied or absorbed, you may know that he is building a
nest, or has a wife and children near by to take care of. If you know
him well, you may even feel hurt that the little friend, who shared
your camp and fed from your dish last winter, should this spring seem
just as frank, yet never invite you to his camp, or should even lead
you away from it. But the soft little nest in the old knot-hole is the
one secret of Chickadee's life; and the little deceptions by which he
tries to keep it are at times so childlike, so transparent, that they
are even more interesting than his frankness.
One afternoon in May I was hunting, without a gun, about an old
deserted farm among the hills--one of those sunny places that the
birds love, because some sense of the human beings who once lived
there still clings about the half wild fields and gives protection.
The day was bright and warm. The birds were everywhere, flashing out
of the pine thickets into the birches in all the joyfulness of
nest-building, and filling the air with life and melody.
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