fe, and said: "Here, little voice,
is your wigwam." The little voice entered and took possession, but
Nana-bo-jou had breathed the spark of life into it. The smoke-vent wings
began to move and to flap, and the little wigwam turned into a beautiful
Bluebird with a red sun on its breast and a shirt of white. Away it
flew, but every year it comes as winter wanes, the Bluebird of the
spring. The voice still dwells in it, and we feel that it has lost
nothing of its earliest power when we hear it cry: "Awake! the spring is
coming!"

TALE 6

Robin, the Bird that Loves to Make Clay Pots

Everyone knows the Robin; his reddish-brown breast, gray back, white
throat, and dark wings and tail are easily remembered. If you colour the
drawing, you will always remember it afterward. The Robin comes about
our houses and lawns; it lets us get close enough to see it. It has a
loud, sweet song. All birds have a song[A]; and all sing when they are
happy. As they sing most of the time, except when they are asleep, or
when moulting, they must have a lot of happiness in their lives.

Here are some things to remember about the Robin. It is one of the
earliest of all our birds to get up in the morning, and it begins to
sing long before there is daylight.

Birds that live in the trees, _hop_; birds that live on the ground,
_walk_ or _run_; but the Robin lives partly in the trees and partly on
the ground, so sometimes he hops and sometimes he runs.

[Illustration: The Robin Making Clay Pots]

When he alights on a fence or tree, he looks at you and flashes the
white spots on the outer corners of his tail. Again and again he does
this. Why? That is his way of letting you know that he is a Robin. He is
saying in signal code--flash and wig-wag--"I'm a Robin, I'm a Robin, I'm
a Robin." So you will not mistake him for some bird that is less loved.

The Robin invented pottery before men did; his nest is always a clay pot
set in a little pile of straws. Sometime, get a Robin's nest after the
bird is done with it; dry it well, put it on the fire very gently; leave
it till all the straws are burned away, and then if it does not go to
pieces, you will find you have a pretty good earthen pot.

The Robin loves to make these pots. I have known a cock Robin make
several which he did not need, just for the fun of making them.

A friend of mine said to me once, "Come, and I will show you the nest of
a crazy Robin." We went to the woodshed and there on