their nests in hollow tree trunks; they were pretty birds. We often. 
     
     climbed the trees to find their eggs, and, frequently did more harm 
     
     than we intended. Woodcocks nest on the ground. 
     
    

    
     Frogs are not birds but I want to tell you about them. here. They 
     
     slept all winter in the deep mud. The frog ponds, in spring and 
     
     summer, were full of life and noise. The frogs had an orchestra of 
     
     their own; they were all musicians; when they started up they could 
     
     be heard all about the settlement; they did not cease the whole night 
     
     through. It was amusing to hear their sleepy songs. One would pitch 
     
     a high key and another would give a loud deep “chung-a-rung” that 
     
     sounded over all the others, like a bass violin. We liked the frogs but 
     
     we often pelted stones and sticks at them, and occasionally killed one. 
     
     Sometimes we caught them with hooks made of pins. It was not 
     
     interesting like catching fish. We always felt guilty of wrongdoing 
     
     when we killed, or hurt them. When we got hurt ourselves we thought 
     
     it was punishment for killing frogs. We liked to hear them, they 
     
     heralded the spring. 
     
    

    
     The seashore and sand beaches were the summer resort of great 
     
     flocks of many kinds of birds. They were the more interesting be- 
     
     cause they were only summer residents or tourists. They began to come 
     
     early in the spring. Every day and night additions were made to their 
     
     number and variety. Some flew only at night, as the warblers, spar- 
     
     rows, thrushes, and others. The robin and the bluebird came about the 
     
     same time as the geese, or a little later. The robin was tame, and 
     
     sang a sweet little song we loved to hear. “Cheer up, cheer up, cheer.” 
     
     The first little rhyme I learned was about the robin: 
     
    
   
   
    
     "Hopping o’er the carpet, 
     
     Picking up the crumbs, 
     
     Robin knows the children, 
     
    
   
   
    
     Love him when he comes.” 
     
    
   
   
    
     Boys that pelted stones at robins were looked upon as bad boys. 
     
     The robins would refresh their last year’s nest, and lay their beauti- 
     
     ful blue coloured eggs, .and hatch their young there. It was interesting 
     
     to watch them feeding their young ones with worms and berries. 
     
     When the parents would come with a worm the whole family would 
     
    
   
   
    
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