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CITIZEN BIRD
The apple trees were in full bloom the day that the Doctor again found time to be with the children. It was exactly the kind of a day that birds like. The ground was soft enough to let the earthworms come up to breathe, so that Robins could catch them easily, and the air was full of all kinds of insects newly out from their long winter sleep in their soft cocoon beds, much to the delight of the Swallows and Flycatchers.
It was also a beautiful day for House People to watch their bird neighbors; for it was mild but not too bright, and every one knows how it hurts the eyes to look at flying birds with the sun shining in them.
Olive, Dodo, and Nat went out first and found Rap waiting. The Doctor followed, carrying something in his hand in a black leather case. When they arrived at the old tree in the orchard, he told them to look up. There was the perch arranged as it had been when he was a boy. Not a perch for birds, but for House People—narrow board seats fitted in between the largest branches and a bar fastened across some of the highest ones, so that it was quite safe to climb up and look out of the top of the tree. The branches had been trimmed away here and there, so that a good view could be had of what was happening elsewhere in the orchard. A scream of surprise and delight came from the group, in which Olive joined. Quickly as the children scrambled into the tree, the Doctor was up there first, laughing and saying that it was thirty years since he had climbed that apple tree; for after he went away to college the old seats had decayed and fallen down.
"Give me your hand and I'll help you up," called Nat to Rap, who had dropped his crutch and was looking up at the others.
"No, you needn't," said Rap. "I can climb all right. Sometimes it isn't so handy for me, but other times it's easier, for in tight places one leg doesn't take up as much room as two;" and he swung and pushed until he was up as high as the rest.
"Here's a nest with eggs in it," whispered Dodo, who had crept out on a limb, where a rather large round nest, made of grass and little sticks plastered together with mud, was saddled on the branch—in fact, a Robin's nest.
"Four lovely smooth eggs, not quite blue and not quite green! Please, can I have them? I saw them first."
"Think a minute, Dodo," said the Doctor. "A bird will come from each of those eggs. Suppose you take the eggs away from the poor Robins, you will be killing four young birds, besides hurting the feelings of their parents and making them leave the orchard, very likely. You must not take any eggs in the nesting season—not even one. I will tell you what happened once in a field where there were some birds' nests in the bushes.
"The man who owned the field was fond of birds and wished to protect them, but he was so good-natured that when his little boy came to him and said, 'I wish so much to have some birds' eggs—all the boys collect them—please let me take a few, father—only on our own land,' he did not wish to say 'No.' Sometimes, to be good-natured is as bad as to be cruel. This man said, 'You may take one egg from each nest, but only one, remember.' So the boy went out and took a few eggs, but then he carried them to school, showed them to the other boys, and told them where they came from. Then each boy said to himself, 'It will be all right if I take only one egg from each nest.' But when four or five boys had each taken one, all the nests were quite empty. So the poor birds left that man's field, where the bugs and worms grew and throve, till they ate up his hay and all the rest of his crops.
"When the nesting season is over eggs that have not hatched are often left in the various nests, that you can take without doing any harm. Of course I know it is not easy to keep your hands off such pretty things as birds' eggs; but if by doing so you can be patriotic and useful, it is an act of self-denial that you will be glad to do for the good of the country."
"What is in that black case, uncle?" asked Dodo. "Is it a pistol to shoot birds? I think it looks too fat for that."
"Not the kind of a pistol that you mean, Dodo, but the only kind that you youngsters need to bring down birds so that you can see them. It is a double-barrelled gun, but you must use your eyes for bullets, instead of leaden balls. See!"—and he took a fine pair of field-glasses from the case, moved the screw a little, and held them before Dodo's eyes—"what do you see down there in the grass?"
"Why, it's a Robin, but how big it looks! Every feather shows by itself, and it has white rings round its eyes like spectacles. I never saw them before, I'm sure."
Then, as the Doctor handed the glasses to Nat, Dodo looked in her lap, expecting to find the bird there instead of a hundred feet away.
"This is jolly!" cried Nat, taking a peep and passing the glasses to Rap, who put them to his eyes, gave a little "ah," and looked through them until the Doctor said, "That will do now. Olive shall keep the glasses, and whenever you children want them she will give them to you; but you must be careful never to scratch them or rub your fingers over the lenses at either end. With this magnifying instrument you will be able to see the shape of beaks and wings, and many color markings you would never notice otherwise. But what did I promise to tell you of to-day, children?"
"Citizen Bird, you said," replied Nat, "though I don't think I quite know what you mean."
"What does citizen mean?" asked the Doctor, smiling.
"I think it is a person who lives in a city, but birds aren't people and they don't live much in the city."
"You are right in one sense, my boy, but the word citizen has also a far wider meaning. Do you know what it is, Olive?" But Olive was not sure, and the Doctor asked her to go to his study and look for the word in the big dictionary.
In a few minutes she returned with a slip of paper from which her father read: "Citizen—a member of a nation, especially of a republic; one who owes allegiance to a government and is entitled to protection from it."
"Now, if you listen carefully I think I can prove to you that every bird you can find is such a citizen of this country, and show you why we should protect him.
"I told you the other day how the body of a bird was planned and built to fill a place no other animal could take. Thus by his habits and character every bird fills a place as a citizen of our Republic, keeping the laws and doing work for the land that House People, with all their wisdom, cannot do. Every such fellow-animal of ours, besides having eyes to see with, and a brain which, if it does not tell him as many things as our brains tell us, yet teaches him all that he need know to follow the laws that Heart of Nature has set for him, has the same feelings and affections as ourselves. Parent birds love each other and their little ones, and often lose their lives in trying to protect them. They build their homes with as much care and skill as House People use in making theirs. Then they work hard, very hard indeed, to collect food to feed their children, for bird children are, oh, so hungry! They grow very quickly, and must eat constantly from morning until night.
"With them it is breakfast, luncheon, dinner, five-o'clock tea, and supper, with a great many other meals between times that would not be wholesome for House Children. So you can see for yourselves that we may well call the bird a fellow-being."
"Yes," said Rap, his eyes beaming as if he had something to tell, "some birds work as hard as mother does. I watched a pair of Robins all one day last spring, when I was sick. They had a nest in a bush by our kitchen window, where I could see it well, and all day long either the mother or the father came about every two minutes with something for the little ones to eat. I timed them by the clock until I was nearly dizzy, and they seemed to do the same thing every day until the young ones flew away. Then they went over to the grape vines, made a new nest, and raised four more the same way"—and then
