In old times they told fables of birds which had no feet, and lived always on the wing. There are no such birds. All birds have feet, all rest from flying. But the motion of flying is so beautiful and easy, that it is no wonder that birds of strong flight are much upon the wing. [Illustration: AT THE POND.] The eagle and hawk families are very swift of flight, and spend most of their time mounting and wheeling. They are keen of sight, and from great heights will see their prey, and swoop down upon it. The swallow family seems never tired of flying. They feed upon the wing. The tiny humming-birds move their wings so quickly, you cannot see them. They hover with this motion while they drink honey from flowers. They are very seldom seen resting. Pigeons are among our swiftest birds. Have you noticed how thirsty pigeons are? That is because they are very hot blooded. They need much hot blood to warm up in their lungs the air which they drive through their hollow bones. Thus they make a kind of balloon of their bodies. The pigeon’s body helps to keep it up in the air. Many of the birds that live much on the wing build their nests on or in trees. I shall tell you a little of nests in another lesson. Now we will speak of one or two tree-living birds. The butcher bird, or shrike, is about the size of a robin. It is a pretty bird, gray or brown in color. Its food is living things, as beetles, bees, mice, and young birds. It has a very curious habit. It brings home part of its food, and hangs it on a thorn near its nest. The butcher bird chooses trees with thorns or sharp twigs, and makes its nest among them. Then on the thorns, all about the nest, it hangs insects and little animals. I saw one of these nests once, about which hung a young bluebird, a beetle, three bees, and a big spider. I have thought it may hang up little dead animals partly as a trap for big blue-bottle flies. For these flies cluster about the dead bodies, and the shrike, keeping guard near his nest, picks them up at his ease. A much nicer bird, one which I wish lived in our country, is the bower bird. This bird makes its nest in a tree, but fashions a little arbor for itself, among the grasses. Into its grass palace it brings all the pretty things it can find. Shells, bright stones, bits of cloth, glass, bones, flowers, are all brought to its little play-house. Would you not love a bird which had such pretty ways? Of all the birds in our own land, none is more splendid than the cardinal bird of the South. He has a crimson beak and plumes. His song is very sweet. He is a brave bird, and very kind and polite to his mate. It is very cruel to kill such a creature for its feathers. In the North, we have the blue jay, nearly as fine a bird as the cardinal. He has a jet-black collar, a bright coat of shaded blue, and a white neck-tie. Indeed, he is a fine, gay, saucy, cheerful bird. But he has a very naughty way of breaking up the nests of other birds, and stealing their eggs.