ch. However,
she soon gave over these attempts at intimidation, perched beside the
percher, and again put something into his maw. This time she did not
feed the nestling. As she took her departure, she told the
come-outer--or so I fancied--that there was a man under the tree, a
pestilent fellow, and it would be well to get a little out of his reach.
At all events, she had scarcely disappeared before the youngster was
again on the wing. It was wonderful how much at home he
seemed,--poising, backing, soaring, and alighting with all the ease and
grace of an old hand. One only piece of awkwardness I saw him commit: he
dropped upon a branch much too large for his tiny feet, and was
manifestly uncomfortable. But he did not stay long, and at his next
alighting was well up in the tree, where it was noticeable that he
remained ever after.

With so much going on outside, it was hard to remain indoors, and
finally I took a chair to the orchard, and gave myself up to watching
the drama. The feeding process, though still always by regurgitation,
was by this time somewhat different from what it had been when the
bills of the young were less fully developed. In my notes of this date I
find the following description of it: "Number Two is still in the nest,
but uneasy. At 10.25 the mother appeared and fed him.[11] Her beak was
thrust into his mouth at right angles,--the change being necessitated,
probably, by the greater length of his bill,--and he seemed to be
jerking strenuously at it. Then he opened his beak and remained
motionless, while the black mandibles of the mother could be seen
running down out of sight into his throat."

[11] For convenience, I use the masculine pronoun in speaking of both
the young birds; but I knew nothing as to the sex of either of them,
though I came finally to believe that one was a male and the other a
female.

The other youngster, Number One, as I now called him, stayed in the
tree, or at most ventured only into the next one, and was fed at varying
intervals,--as often, apparently, as the busy mother could find anything
to give him. Would he go back to his cradle for the night? It seemed not
improbable, notwithstanding he had shown no sign of such an intention so
long as daylight lasted. At 3.50 the next morning, therefore, I stole
out to see. No: Number Two was there alone.

At seven o'clock, when I made my second visit, the mother was in the
midst of another day's hard work. Twice within five m