Bird Stories

f them should have a Scotch name, and what could be better, after all, than Sandy for a sandpiper? One was named Pan, because he

r. She called them all "Pete." She was so used to calling her mat

s own way and did not bother his brothers, although they did not stray too fa

worried. It is no wonder that she was anxious about Sandy and Peter and Pan, for, to begin with, she had had four fine children, and th

d Peter, for

sounded contented as they said, "Peep," one to another. Their queer little tails looked frisky as they went bob-bob-bob-bing up and down every time they stepped, and

y did not fall. He tripped lightly up and about, with sure feet; and where the walking was too hard, he fluttered his wings and flew to an easier place. Once he reached the top

the sweet-gale bushes, which grew almost near enough to the river to go wading, too; and there was a spicy smell when he brushed against the mint, which wore its blossoms in pale purple tufts just

he brim with water. Such a cool splashing-once, twice, thrice, with a long delightful flutter; and then out into the warm sunshine, where the feathers could be puffed out and dried! These were the very first real feathers he had ever had, a

with so many new amusements wherever three b

themselves near each other on the bank, still walking forth so brave and bold, and yet

low over the water from Faraway Island to Nearby Island, calling,

ost-grown-up sandpiper sons, who had wande

three cosy little birds, with their heads still rumpled over with down that was not yet pushed off

little sons tagged obediently after her as she called them from place to place all round and all about Ne

rfew sounded for human children to be at home, Peter and Pan and San

family? He, too, at nightfall, had come flying low from Faraway Island; and now, with his he

ere near together through the starlight-the five

many things for themselves, though she kept in touch with them from time to time during the day, to satisfy herself that they were safe. And at night she found that the

for the sunset hour to reach the time of dusk. Then she flew to the log where Peter Piper had been teetering up and down, and what she said to him I do not know. But a minute later, back she flew, this time rather high overhead, and

d shaken the last fringe of down from their tails and lost the fluff from their heads? Did they need no older compa

and and landed on a rock on Faraway Island. And, "Peep," called Sandy, fluttering after. And, "Peep," said Pan,

last luncheon on the shore of Faraway Isla

he top of its blossom head to the lowest of its queer under-water leaves. And here and there, among the lacy white, a stalk of a different sort grew, with red blossoms of a shade so rich that it is called the cardinal flower. Ever

on at sundown as at sunrise, for not one wonderful spray had been broken from its stem. So it happened, because the children who played there were Sandy and Peter and Pan, that the cardinal flowers lived the

be a sort of gypsy folk, with the love of wandering in their hearts; and it is pleasant to know that, as soo

re they were one year old. They went, in fact, way to the land where the insects live that are so hard and beautiful and gemlike that people sometimes use them for jewels. These are called

thern country to Brazil was not too much for a healthy bird, with its sure breath and pure rich blood. There was food enough alon

corations they ever wore were big dark polka dots on their vests. Perhaps they were all pleased with them, when their old travel-worn feathers dropped out

at quickened like the heart of a journeying gypsy when, with nod

blue-bells grew, and a shore spic

bird, "Northward ho!" But we know they come in the s

alling, "Peep," one to another? And do you think Mother Piper and Father Peter showed him the way to Faraway Island at sun-down, and g

r now, with a mate of his own, nodding her wise little head the livelong

teetered to

ce to sit, no doubt. At least, Dot liked it; and Peter must have had some fondness for it, too, for he slipped on when Dot was not there herself. It just fitted their little bodies, and there were four eggs in it of which any sandpiper might well have been proud; for the

nly they had been smaller) to tuck beneath a warm breast decorated with pretty polka dots. Bu

l fitted out with lungs and a heart and rich warm blood, and very slender legs, and very dear heads with very bright eyes, and all the other parts it take

ir legs and get used to being outside of shells instead of inside, those little babies

of her eggs might fool a person, but she had not worried. Why, indeed, should she be troubled? Those big shells had held food-material enough, so that her young, when hatched, were so strong and well-developed that they could go wand

to Nearby Island. So they were camped on the shore, and the prowling cat came very near. So near, in fact, that Mother Dot fluttered away from her young, calling back to them, in a language they understood, to scatter a bit, and then lie so s

broken wing, and she called for help with all the agony of her

ightened sandpiper begging protec

as if a dog were chasing a cat. A few minutes later Dot's voice again called in the dark-this time, not in anguish of heart, but very cosily and

e who had first pipped his eggshell was named Peter the Third, for his father and his grandfather, and a finer young sandpi

I never knew; and it didn't matter much

pily along t

ppily accepting the guidance of their mother, who made her slow flight from Faraway Island every now and then, usually so low

for a leisurely little flight to Brazil and back-to fill the days, as it were, with pleasant wanderings, from the time the hu