"And I expect the poor mamma-bird cries and cries and weeps and grieves
when she comes home to supper and finds out her little children are
gone forever and ever." And with her bright eyes dimmed with tears of
pity, Marian, clasping a hand of each of the young ladies, walked
slowly to the house still bewailing the fate of the robin.

My heart warmed toward these sweet young girls for their tender
sympathy. I almost wished I were a carrier pigeon, that I might devote
myself hereafter to their service by bearing loving messages from them
to their friends.

But, alas! I was to have a rude awakening from this pleasant thought.
As we flew that evening to our roosting-place, I observed to my mother
that if there were no cats in the world what a delightful time we birds
might have.

"You have a greater enemy than the cat," she responded sadly. "It is
true the cat is cruel and tries to kill us, but it knows no better."

"If not the cat, what enemy is it?" I asked in surprise. "I thought
the cat was the most bloodthirsty foe the birds had."

My mother dipped her wings more slowly and poised her body gracefully a
moment. Then she said impressively, "Our greatest enemy is man. No,"
suddenly correcting herself, "not man, but women, women and children."

"Women and dear little children our enemies?" said I, in astonishment.
"The pretty ladies who speak so sweet and kind! The pretty ladies who
gather roses in the garden! Would they deprive us of life?"