mate. As she brooded over her eggs, he brooded over her; and
that she might realize the depth and
constancy of his
devotion,
he told her
repeatedly, with every tender inflection he could
throw into his tones, that she was "So dear! So dear!"
The Cardinal had not known that the coming of the mate he so
coveted would fill his life with such unceasing
gladness, and
yet, on the very day that happiness seemed at fullest measure,
there was trouble in the sumac. He had overstayed his time,
chasing a fat moth he particularly wanted for his mate, and she,
growing thirsty past
endurance, left the nest and went to the
river. Seeing her there, he made all possible haste to take his
turn at brooding, so he arrived just in time to see a pilfering
red
squirrel starting away with an egg.
With a
viciousscream the Cardinal struck him full force. His
rush of rage cost the
squirrel an eye; but it lost the father a
birdling, for the
squirrel dropped the egg outside the nest. The
Cardinal mournfully carried away the tell-tale bits of shell, so
that any one
seeing them would not look up and discover his
treasures. That left three eggs; and the brooding bird mourned
over the lost one so pitifully that the Cardinal perched close to
the nest the
remainder of the day, and whispered over and over
for her comfort that she was "So dear! So dear!"
Chapter 5
"See here! See here!" demanded the Cardinal
The
mandaterepeatedly rang from the topmost twig of the thorn
tree, and yet the Cardinal was not in
earnest. He was beside
himself with a new and
delightfulexcitement, and he found it
impossible to
refrain from giving vent to his feelings. He was
commanding the farmer and every furred and
feathered denizen of
the river bottom to see; then he fought like a wild thing if any
of them ventured close, for great things were
happening in the sumac.
In past days the Cardinal had brooded an hour every morning while
his mate went to take her exercise, bathe, and fluff in the sun
parlour. He had gone to her that morning as usual, and she
looked at him with
anxious eyes and refused to move. He had
hopped to the very edge of the nest and
repeatedly urged her to
go. She only ruffled her feathers, and nestled the eggs she was
brooding to turn them, but did not offer to leave. The Cardinal
reached over and
gently nudged her with his beak, to
remind her
that it was his time to brood; but she looked at him almost
savagely, and gave him a sharp peck; so he knew she was not to be
bothered. He carried her every
dainty he could find and hovered
near her, tense with anxiety.
It was late in the afternoon before she went after the drink for
which she was half famished. She scarcely had reached a
willowand bent over the water before the Cardinal was on the edge of
the nest. He examined it closely, but he could see no change.
He leaned to give the eggs careful scrutiny, and from somewhere
there came to him the faintest little "Chip!" he ever had heard.
Up went the Cardinal's crest, and he dashed to the
willow. There
was no danger in sight; and his mate was
greedily dipping her
rosy beak in the water. He went back to the
cradle and listened
intently, and again that
feeble cry came to him. Under the nest,
around it, and all through the sumac he searched, until at last,
completely baffled, he came back to the edge. The sound was so
much plainer there, that he suddenly leaned, caressing the eggs
with his beak; then the Cardinal knew! He had heard the first
faint cries of his shell-incased babies!
With a wild
scream he made a flying leap through the air. His
heart was
beating to suffocation. He started in a race down the
river. If he alighted on a bush he took only one swing, and
springing from it flamed on in
headlongflight. He flashed to
the top of the tallest tulip tree, and cried cloudward to the
lark: "See here! See here!" He dashed to the river bank and told
the killdeers, and then visited the
underbrush and informed the
thrushes and wood robins. Father-tender, he grew so delirious
with joy that he forgot his
habitual aloofness, and fraternized
with every bird beside the shining river. He even laid aside his
customary
caution, went chipping into the sumac, and caressed his
mate so boisterously she gazed at him
severely and gave his wing
a
savage pull to recall him to his sober senses.
That night the Cardinal slept in the sumac, very close to his
mate, and he shut only one eye at a time. Early in the morning,
when he carried her the first food, he found that she was on the
edge of the nest, dropping bits of shell outside; and creeping to
peep, he saw the tiniest coral baby, with closed eyes, and little
patches of soft silky down. Its beak was wide open, and though