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I think it is nicer to have a wind coming you don't know from where, and making all the leaves flutter about, than to have the wings of birdies making the wind. And I don't care about the man in the moon much. He's not so nice as you, Willie. And yon red ray of the sun through there on the fir-tree is as good nearly as the moon." "Oh! but you may have the moon, if you wait a bit.
So Uncle Wiggily hopped up on the stump, and Mrs. Wren got off her nest, and there, on the bottom, in among some egg-shells, were a lot of tiny, weeny little birdies, about as big as a spool of silk thread or even smaller. "Why, where in the world did they come from?" asked the old gentleman rabbit, rubbing his eyes. "Out of the eggs to be sure," answered Mrs. Wren.
He would sometimes travel along the back yards, twist his mouth and call to nobody in particular: "A few crumbs for the birdies, lady?" And presently through an open window a crust would fly, and with this buried in his hat he would be off. Only among the poor would he hobble about.
"Come and help me throw crumbs to the pretty wee birdies in the garden." In his attempt to 'smash 'em in detail' the Prince was acute enough to use the Colonel, and condescending enough to use me, as supporters.
Then, as you know, Tattine flew to make sure that treacherous Black-and-white was kept close guarded, and then back she flew again to the aid of the little birds themselves. Softly she drew nearer and nearer, saying over gently, "Whoa, Lizzie! dear little birdies!" until she came very near and then she put out one hand towards them. That was enough for the fledglings.
I have often been consulted by some sweet, impulsive child about its "pet robin" or "dear little swallow," as to why it did not seem to eat or feel happy? and have found the poor victims quietly starving to death on a diet of oats, canary seed, or even green leaves, the infant mind not feeling quite sure what the "pretty birdies" lived upon.
Wren was gone some time, as the store was crowded and she couldn't get waited on right away, and Uncle Wiggily stayed with the birdies. And they got hungrier and hungrier, and they cried real hard. Yes, indeed, as hard as some babies. "Hum! I don't know what to do," said the old gentleman rabbit. "I can't feed them. I guess I'll sing to them."
Now be good little birdies, and hop round here together till mamma comes back." She went into her own room, to the tiniest little birdie of all, that was just waking. Sinsie and Marmaduke had got a new play, now. They were quite contented to be sparrows, and chirp at each other, springing and lighting about, from one green spot to another in the pattern of the nursery carpet.
Then they moved between the fire and the two officers, blocking the view. "'Bout time ye woke up and listened to the birdies," Tim chaffed. "Fight's over, and we been hangin' round waitin' for ye to quit snorin' so's we could hear ourselves think. Lay still, now! Ye're all plastered up nice and comfy and don't preach to me no more about the girls.
This subject of nicknames is a curiosity. All rules of euphony, fitness, and common sense, that apply to other things, are utterly at fault here. A baby who cannot talk plainly, dubs himself "Tuty," or "Dess," or "Pet," or "Honey," and forthwith becomes Tuty, Dess, Pet, or Honey, the rest of his mortal life. All the particularly cross and disagreeable girls are Birdies and Sunbeams.
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