Came stealing."(1)

Silently they flew back and forth, each giving a vengeful dab at the
nest in passing. They did not fall-to and deliberately destroy it, for
they might have been caught at their mischief. As it was, whenever
the yellow-birds came back, their enemies were hidden in their own
sight-proof bush. Several times their unconscious victims repaired
damages, but at length, after counsel taken together, they gave it
up. Perhaps, like other unlettered folk, they came to the conclusion
that the Devil was in it, and yielded to the invisible persecution of
witchcraft.

(1) Shakespeare: *King Henry V.,* act i, scene 2.

The robins, by constant attacks and annoyances, have succeeded
in driving off the blue-jays who used to build in our pines, their gay
colors and quaint, noisy ways making them welcome and amusing
neighbors. I once had the chance of doing a kindness to a
household of them, which they received with very friendly
condescension. I had had my eye for some time upon a nest, and
was puzzled by a constant fluttering of what seemed full-grown
wings in it whenever I drew nigh. At last I climbed the tree, in spite
of angry protests from the old birds against my intrusion. The
mystery had a very simple solution. In building the nest, a long
piece of packthread had been somewhat loosely woven in. Three of
the young had contrived to entangle themselves in it, and had
become full-grown without being able to launch themselves upon
the air. One was unharmed; another had so tightly twisted the cord
about its shank that one foot was curled up and seemed paralyzed;
the third, in its struggles to escape, had sawn through the flesh of