The Turquoise Story Book: Stories and Legends of Summer and Nature
General
The Turquoise Story Book: Stories and Legends of Summer and Nature
Nature -- Juvenile literature; Summer -- Juvenile literature
Here all the heavy heads poked forward, closing in a circle round their
Nestor; while all their great round eyes opened in full stare upon his.
"To-morrow you must all sleep as usual, until I give a long hoot; then
you must all open your eyes and observe what shall chance."
Tired with so unusual a debate, all went to sleep accordingly, and
snored louder than usual; until, just as the sun had awakened to full
life and stir all the feathered tribe, the old owl hooted and screeched
forth such a yell, as first terrified and then attracted on wings,
spurred by curiosity, though still trembling with fear, every bird of
the air from the giant eagle to the diminutive wren.
"A vision! a vision!" cried the owl; and again he screeched and again he
hooted, rustling up all his feathers, flapping his wings, blinking his
eyes, and tumbling head over tail like a bird distracted.
Every creature present stared and wondered.
"A vision, a vision! A miracle, a miracle!" again shouted the owl.
"I have seen a bird larger than the ostrich and stronger than the eagle.
Lightnings flame from his eyes, and thunder roars from his beak. He has
spoken; and lo! his command was: _The owls are my servants and to them I
make known my will. Let all the birds of the air_ _hearken to their
voice. Let them do their bidding, respect their repose, and feed them
with the fat of the land; or, behold, I will feed upon them._"
Thereupon, the owls set up a hoot in chorus, and all the birds scattered
to the four winds to collect food for the servants to eat, lest the
unseen master should eat them.
From this time forth these stupid owls were deemed the wisest of the
birds of the air; they supped every night upon fat yearlings; and when
they hooted all the feathered tribe clapped their wings and sang a song
of praise.
BIRDS' NESTS
ERNEST INGERSOLL
A bird's nest is a bird's house. Sometimes it is strong, well made and
tightly roofed, and sometimes it is not, just as with men's houses. The
principal difference between the bird's house and ours is that we build
ours to be used all the year round, while the bird prefers to make a new
one each summer. There are some birds, such as the fish-hawk, however,
that keep the same nest many years in succession, repairing it each
spring; and I think more birds would do so were it not that their houses
are usually made so slightly that the winter's gales knock them to
pieces when the owners are absent at some Southern health resort. This
is a pity, too, for many of our commonest nests are exceedingly pretty
and call for a great deal of work and care on the part of the builders,
whose only tools are their feet and beaks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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