“What becomes of the poor little things pushed out of their own home by the ungrateful young cuckoo? If the nest is high above the ground all perish, crushed by their fall, and the ants immediately begin to suck their blood. If it is low, some live and take refuge in the moss, where the mother comes to console them and bring them something to eat. The cuckoo remains in sole possession of the nest.” “And the horrid toad will starve to death there,” said Jules. “The father and mother, now that their brood is destroyed, won’t bring it anything more to eat.” “That is where you are mistaken. They continue to feed it liberally, as if nothing had happened; they perform wonders to satisfy its big appetite; they do not allow themselves a minute’s rest in their efforts to fill that beak that is always open and is wide enough to swallow the nurses themselves.” “Then the warbler isn’t afraid of her greedy nursling that might gobble her up any moment?” queried Jules. “Although she is its mother only by chance, she is devoted to it. She comes joyfully with a caterpillar at the end of her beak while the cuckoo gapes at the edge of the nest, as ugly as a little monster. With no tremor of fear the warbler delivers the mouthful by putting her head into the yawning gulf. The gulf closes, swallows, and yawns again, demanding something more, and all haste is made to satisfy its needs.” “Kind warbler!” murmured Jules. “What self-denial in order to bring up the ugly rascal that has ravaged her nest!” “So it has to be,” Uncle Paul rejoined, “or we should long ago have been left with no cuckoos in the world to help us get rid of the processionary caterpillars of the oak-tree.” “All the same, I don’t like that bird.” And with this Jules took up the cuckoo’s egg he had found in the garden nest. “May I?” said he to his uncle, with a gesture. “Yes, I have no objection,” answered Uncle Paul, who preferred five warblers in his garden to one vagabond cuckoo. And smack went the egg as the boy dashed it to the ground. CHAPTER XXVI SHRIKES “All sorts of absurd stories have been made up about the cuckoo and its curious habits, and thus fable has added to the actual facts, which are in themselves strange enough. Even to-day there are in circulation any number of fairy tales on the subject of this bird. I will tell you a few of them in order to put you on your guard against these childish notions.