L. Frank Baum Read Online Free PDF Page B

and
sometimes accuse our neighbors wrongfully. But the mother birds know
how often their nests have been robbed in their absence, and if they
suspect some neighbor of the crime instead of a prowling animal it is
but natural, since many birds cannot be trusted. There are laws in the
forest, of course; but the guilty ones are often able to escape. I'll
tell you of a little tragedy that happened only last week, which will
prove how apt we are to be mistaken."

Chapter VII - The Bluejay's Story
*
    "There is no more faithful mother in the forest than the blue titmouse,
which is a cousin to the chickadee," continued the policeman, "and this
spring Tom Titmouse and his wife Nancy set up housekeeping in a little
hollow in an elm-tree about half a mile north of this spot. Of course,
the first thing Nancy did was to lay six beautiful eggs—white with
brown spots all over them—in the nest. Tom was as proud of these eggs
as was Nancy, and as the nest was hidden in a safe place they flew away
together to hunt for caterpillars, and had no thought of danger. But on
their return an hour later what was their sorrow to find the nest
empty, and every pretty egg gone. On the ground underneath the tree
were scattered a few bits of shell; but the robber was nowhere to be
seen.
    "Tom Titmouse was very indignant at this dreadful crime, and came to me
at once to complain of the matter; but of course I had no idea who had
done the deed. I questioned all the birds who have ever been known to
slyly steal eggs, and every one denied the robbery. So Nancy Titmouse
saw she must lay more eggs, and before long had another six speckled
beauties in the bottom of her nest.
    "They were more careful now about leaving home; but the danger seemed
past. One bright, sunny morning they ventured to fly to the brook to
drink and bathe themselves, and on their return found their home
despoiled for a second time. Not an egg was left to them out of the
six, and while Nancy wept and wailed Tom looked sharply around him and
saw a solitary shrike sitting on a limb not far away."
    "What's a shrike?" asked Chubbins.
    "It is a bird that looks a good deal like that mocking-bird sitting
next you; but it bears a bad character in the forest and has earned the
vile name of 'butcher-bird.' I admit that I am always obliged to keep
an eye upon the shrike, for I expect it to get into mischief at any
time. Well, Tom Titmouse naturally thought the shrike had eaten Nancy's
eggs, so he came to me and ordered me to arrest the robber. But the
shrike pleaded his innocence, and I had no proof against him.
    "Again Nancy, with true motherly courage and perseverance, laid her
eggs in the nest; and now they were never left alone for a single
minute. Either she or Tom was always at home, and for my part I watched
the shrike carefully and found he did not fly near the nest of the
titmice at all.
    "The result of our care was that one fine day the eggs hatched out, and
six skinny little titmice, with big heads and small bodies, were
nestling against Nancy's breast. The mother thought they were
beautiful, you may be sure, and many birds gathered around to
congratulate her and Tom, and the brown thrush sang a splendid song of
welcome to the little ones.
    "When the children got a little stronger it did not seem necessary to
guard the nest so closely, and the six appetites required a good many
insects and butterfly-eggs to satisfy them. So Tom and Nancy both flew
away to search for food, and when they came back they found, to their
horror, that their six little ones had been stolen, and the nest was
bare and cold. Nancy nearly fainted with sorrow, and her cries were
pitiful and heart-rending; but Tom Titmouse was dreadfully angry, and
came to me demanding vengeance.
    "'If you are any good at all as a policeman,' said he, 'you will
discover and punish the murderer of my babies.'
    "So I looked all around and finally discovered, not far from the nest
of the titmice, four of their children, all dead and each