here on Silverwater. I suppose they've been crowded out from the
places they really prefer, along the skirts of the settlements on the
other side of the Ridge. They would rather live always somewhere near
the farms and the cleared fields. Not that they have any special
affection for man. Far from it. They dislike him, and distrust him,
and seem to think him a good deal of a fool, too. His so-called
'scarecrows' are a great joke to them, and have been known at times to
afford some fine materials for the lining of their nests. But they
find him so useful in many really important ways that they establish
their colonies in his neighborhood whenever they possibly can."

Here Uncle Andy made another long pause. He looked at the Babe
suspiciously.

"Is anything the matter?" he demanded.

"No, thank you, Uncle Andy," replied the Babe politely.

"But you haven't asked a single question for at least seven minutes,"
said Uncle Andy.

"I was too busy listening to you," explained the Babe. "But there's
one I'd like to ask, if it's all the same to you."

"Well, fire away," said his uncle.

"_Why_ did they all fly away like that, as if they had just remembered
something awfully important? And why would you rather be a little tiny
humming-bird than a crow? And why did it take the whole flock that way
to teach the young ones to fly? And--and why are they afraid, when