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Updated: May 25, 2025
She would never again feel like a missel thrush with a safe-hidden nest. "Oh, don't don't don't don't do that!" she cried out. He stared as if he thought she had gone crazy! "Why?" he exclaimed. "You said you wanted to see it." "I do," she answered almost with a sob in her throat, "but if you make them open the door and take you in like that it will never be a secret again."
"Tha' can put up with me for a bit sometimes when tha's got no one better. Tha's been reddinin' up thy waistcoat an' polishin' thy feathers this two weeks. I know what tha's up to. Tha's courtin' some bold young madam somewhere, tellin' thy lies to her about bein' th' finest cock robin on Missel Moor an' ready to fight all th' rest of 'em." "Oh! look at him!" exclaimed Mary.
They were rather large birds, large as the missel thrush; they had thick curved beaks and were somewhat heavy in form; but the plumage of the males was like the rose-tint of dawn or evening when it falls lightly upon some grey cloud. They uttered no note, but, busy with their feast, fluttered and hopped with soft sound of wings.
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