she literally drove them back to the sumac.

The Cardinal was so inordinately proud, and made such a brave showing
of teaching them to fly, bathe, and all the other things necessary for
young birds to know, that it was a great mercy they escaped with their
lives. He had mastered many lessons, but he never could be taught how
to be quiet and conceal himself. With explosive "chips" flaming and
flashing, he met dangers that sent all the other birds beside the
shining river racing to cover. Concealment he scorned; and repose he
never knew.

It was a summer full of rich experience for the Cardinal. After these
first babies were raised and had flown, two more nests were built, and
two other broods flew around the sumac. By fall the Cardinal was the
father of a small flock, and they were each one neat, trim, beautiful
river birds.

He had lived through spring with its perfumed air, pale flowers, and
burning heart hunger. He had known summer in its golden mood, with
forests pungent with spicebush and sassafras; festooned with wild
grape, woodbine, and bittersweet; carpeted with velvet moss and starry
mandrake peeping from beneath green shades; the never-ending murmur of
the shining river; and the rich fulfilment of love's fruition.

Now it was fall, and all the promises of spring were accomplished. The
woods were glorious in autumnal tints. There were ripened red haws,
black haws, and wild grapes only waiting for severe frosts, nuts
rattling down, scurrying squirrels, and the rabbits' flash of gray and
brown. The waysides were bright with the glory of goldenrod, and royal
with the purple of asters and ironwort. There was the rustle of
falling leaves, the flitting of velvety butterflies, the whir of wings
trained southward, and the call of the king crow gathering his
followers.

Then to the Cardinal came the intuition that it was time to lead his
family to the orange orchard. One day they flamed and rioted up and
down the shining river, raced over the corn field, and tilted on the
sumac. The next, a black frost had stripped its antlered limbs. Stark
and deserted it stood, a picture of loneliness.

O bird of wonderful plumage and human-like song! What a precious
thought of Divinity to create such beauty and music for our pleasure!
Brave songster of the flaming coat, too proud to hide your flashing
beauty, too fearless to be cautious of the many dangers that beset you,
from the top of the morning we greet you,