enfolding us with her warm, soft wings. Thus tenderly cared for we
passed the early sunny days of life.

After we could fly we often visited a fragrant orchard that sent its
odors across the grain fields. From its green shade we made short
excursions to the rich, black soil in search of some choice tid-bit of
a worm turned up by the plow expressly for our dessert. We were indeed
glad to be of use to the farmer by devouring these pests so destructive
to his crops, but did not limit our labors to these places; we also
made it our business to pick off the bugs and slugs that infested the
fruit trees, and often extended our efforts to the tender young grape
leaves in the arbor and the rose bushes and shrubs in the flower garden.

On a warm morning after a rain was our favorite time for work, and it
was pleasant to hear the tap-tap-tapping of our neighbor the
woodpecker, as he located with his busy little bill the bugs in the
tree limb. It was like the hammer of an industrious blacksmith
breaking on the still air. His jaunty red cap and broad white shoulder
cape made of him a very pretty object as he worked away blithely and
cheerily at his useful task. While the rest of us did not make so much
noise at our work, we were equally diligent in picking off the larvae
and borers that ruined the trees, and on a full crop we enjoyed the
consciousness of having aided mankind.

On several occasions I had seen our enemy, the cat, slinking stealthily
on his padded feet from the direction of the great brick house which
stood on the edge of the orchard. Crouched in a furrow he would gaze
upward at us so steadily and for so long a time without so much as a
wink or a blink of his green eyes, that it seemed he must injure its
muscles. Aside from the many frights he gave us it is sad to relate