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Updated: May 17, 2025
The pity is that there is no one to point the moral to the crowd when the father-bird is seen returning with delicacies for the mother, who tends her nest and its occupants. The reader will already have anticipated the conclusion, to which, as I see it, the study of the fundamental laws of life must lead the sociologist in this case.
We searched diligently, but without avail, while the father-bird sat quietly in a tree, calling with all sweetness and with never a trace of anger or trepidation, cherawink, cherawink.
Alas, it grieves me even now to tell, though many long years have since then passed away! One day the father-bird went from the nest, and never returned! Long and patiently waited his little mate, hoping each moment to hear his welcome note, as swiftly he winged his way back to her. But the day wore on, the evening sun grew golden, then faded in the purple west but still he came not!
'He has eaten our children and sleeps after it; he must die, said the father-bird, and flew back to the hills and clawed up a huge stone which he meant to let fall on the prince's head.
The question is often asked, should not the story of motherhood precede that of fatherhood in all this early teaching? Up to a certain point it may be well, and the story of the life and development of the egg can be told to young children, with the father-bird merely an æsthetic factor, so to speak.
'He has eaten our children and sleeps after it; he must die, said the father-bird, and flew back to the hills and clawed up a huge stone which he meant to let fall on the prince's head.
All his brothers and sisters put up their heads and giggled, as the young do when one of their number misbehaves. "Don't make that noise!" said his mother; "it's not decent!" "It's low!" said the father-bird. The littlest young Jackdaw was overwhelmed with astonishment. When he tried to explain, his unseemly melodies led to his immediate expulsion from the family circle.
Then, too, there was her beautiful mate for company and help; for when Ardea needed to leave the nest for food and a change, the father-bird kept house as carefully as need be. To her next-bush neighbors and the little blue herons Ardea paid no attention, unless, indeed, one of them chanced to come near her own mangrove bush.
It was great amusement, after this, to watch the daily feeding of the little birds, and to observe how, when not feeding them, the mother sat brooding on the nest, warming them under her soft wings, while the father-bird sat on the topmost bough of the apple-tree and sang to them.
The birds, too, are all asleep in the tree; the mother-bird spreading her wings over the young ones in the nest, and the father-bird sitting on a twig close by with his head under his wing. Even the chattering monkey has curled himself up for the night. Soon the large round moon comes up. She, too, must look into the swinging bed, and shine upon the closed eyes of the little brown baby.
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