She had taken possession of the sumac. The location was her selection
and he loudly applauded her choice. She placed the first twig, and
after examining it carefully, he spent the day carrying her others just
as much alike as possible. If she used a dried grass blade, he carried
grass blades until she began dropping them on the ground. If she
worked in a bit of wild grape-vine bark, he peeled grape-vines until
she would have no more. It never occurred to him that he was the
largest cardinal in the woods, in those days, and he had forgotten that
he wore a red coat. She was not a skilled architect. Her nest
certainly was a loose ramshackle affair; but she had built it, and had
allowed him to help her. It was hers; and he improvised a paean in its
praise. Every morning he perched on the edge of the nest and gazed in
songless wonder at each beautiful new egg; and whenever she came to
brood she sat as if entranced, eyeing her treasures in an ecstasy of
proud possession.
Then she nestled them against her warm breast, and turned adoring eyes
toward the Cardinal. If he sang from the dogwood, she faced that way.
If he rocked on the wild grape-vine, she turned in her nest. If he
went to the corn field for grubs, she stood astride her eggs and peered
down, watching his every movement with unconcealed anxiety. The
Cardinal forgot to be vain of his beauty; she delighted in it every
hour of the day. Shy and timid beyond belief she had been during her
courtship; but she made reparation by being an incomparably generous
and devoted mate.
And the Cardinal! He was astonished to find himself capable of so much
and such varied feeling. It was not enough that he brooded while she
went to bathe and exercise. The daintiest of every morsel he found was
carried to her. When she refused to swallow another particle, he
perched on a twig close by the nest many times in a day; and with sleek
feathers and lowered crest, gazed at her in silent worshipful adoration.
Up and down the river bank he flamed and rioted. In the sumac he
uttered not the faintest "Chip!" that might attract attention. He was
so anxious to be inconspicuous that he appeared only half his real
size. Always on leaving he gave her a tender little peck and ran his
beak the length of her wing--a characteristic caress that he delighted
to bestow on her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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