In some fashion, however, I did at last reach the thorn-tree, planted my
chair in the least wet spot I could find, and, tucking my garments up
from the ground, sat down. At first I discarded my unmanageable
umbrella, till the raindrops obscuring my opera-glass forced me to open
it again. And all these preliminaries had to be settled before I could
so much as look at the nest.

Something had happened, as I saw at once; the manners of the birds were
very different from what they had been all these days I had been
studying them. Both of them were at the nest when I looked, but in a
moment one flew, and the other slipped into her old seat, though not so
entirely into it as usual. Heretofore she had been able to hide herself
so completely that it was impossible to tell whether she were there or
not. Even the tail, which in most birds is the unconcealable banner
that proclaims to the bird-student that the sitter is at home, even this
unruly member she had been able to hide in some way, but this morning it
remained visible.

In a minute the shrike returned and fed somebody,--I suppose his mate,
since she did not move aside; and again in another minute he repeated
the operation. So he went on bringing food perhaps a dozen times in
close succession. Then he rested a few minutes, when she who through the
long days of sitting had been so calm and quiet seemed all at once as
restless as any warbler. She rose on the edge of the nest, and uttered
the low, yearning cry I had heard from him, then flew to the ground,
returned, perched on the edge, leaned over, and gave three pokes as if
feeding. Then she flew to another part of the tree, thence to a fence
post, then back again to the edge of the nest. In a moment the uneasy
bird slipped into her old place, but, apparently too restless to stay,
was out again in a few seconds, when she stood up in the nest and began
calling,--a loud but musical two-note call, the second tone a third
higher than the first, and different from anything I had heard from her
before. If it were a call to her mate, he did not at once appear, and
she relieved her feelings by flying to the maple and perching a few
minutes, though so great was the attraction at home that she could stay
away but a short time.

[Sidenote: _LOVELY, INNOCENT YOUNGLINGS._]

Of course I concluded from all this that the young shrikes were out, and
I longed with all my heart to stay and watch the charming process of
changing from the