I am sure I need not say that father and mother birds love their little ones.

So much does the mother love her nestlings that she is often willing to die for them. Orioles and chickadees will let themselves be caught in the hand of one who has taken their young, rather than desert them.

Some birds live in our chimneys, generally in a flue that is not in use, and are called chimney swifts. If a chimney takes fire the mother swift tries hard to get her little ones out, but if they cannot fly, she has been seen to fly into the fire herself, and die with them.

Robins have been found frozen to death on their nest. They could easily have saved themselves, but they would not leave their young ones to perish. A ground bird has been known to sit on her nest during a freezing storm, till she died, rather than go and leave her little ones to suffer.

Once when a young cedar-bird was caught and carried off, the father followed it for miles, crying and showing so much distress that the man who had stolen it was sorry for him, and let the little one go.

Every one who has watched them knows that birds love their mates. A man once shot a sea bird, when her mate came about him, crying and showing his grief as well as if he could speak.

I could easily fill a book with stories to prove that birds are loving to their mates and young, and all of them true.

It does not seem strange that birds are fond of their own, but they love others also. And not only other birds, but even animals like cats, dogs, and horses sometimes.

I once had an English goldfinch in the house. He was a little fellow, not so big as a canary, and he was very fond of another bird in the room. This was a scarlet tanager, who was much larger than himself.

The small bird showed his love for his red friend, just as people show love, by staying close to him, singing to him, and driving away any bird who came too near.

A lady once told me this story showing the love of a pigeon for a cat. The cat was fond of lying on the broad window sill. When the pigeon saw her there, he would fly down, and alight beside her. Then he would press up close to her, and rub against her fur, as if glad to see her, and the cat seemed to enjoy it as much as the bird.

Often a bird who is tamed loves his human friends. A man had a crow who was very fond of him. He had reared the bird from the nest and never shut him up, but let him fly about wherever he chose.

One day he was out in a sudden rain, and his feathers got wet, so that he could not fly well. Then a boy caught him, and carried him seven miles away. He clipped one wing, so that the crow could not fly, and kept him shut in the house all winter. In the spring, the first time he could get out, the bird started for his old home.

He could not fly, but he walked the seven miles, through mud and wet, and came home so tired that he was almost dead. When his master saw him coming he went to meet him, took him up and petted him, and talked to him.

The poor fellow was so happy it seemed as if he could not live. But he was taken care of, and got well, and lived many years. But never after that would he leave the place, though when his new feathers came in he could fly as well as ever.Canary birds often love their mistresses. I have heard of one who was so grieved by a harsh word, that in a few minutes he fell off his perch dead.

These true stories show us how tender and loving these little creatures are, and how careful we should be to treat them gently and kindly.

An interesting and true story is told by a clergyman in Ohio. It is a habit of wrens to find a good nesting-place, and then look for a mate to occupy it. One spring a wren chose a nice bird-box on his place, and held it ready for the expected bride. But she did not come, and a pair of English sparrows took a fancy to the same house.

Sparrows expect to get what they want, and are always ready to fight for it, so they gave battle to the wren. But wrens also will fight for their own, and this wren held his house against the enemy for two weeks. Still the mate did not appear, and finally the lonely bird lost heart, and let the sparrows set up house-keeping in his box, though he did not go away.

When the young sparrows were hatched, and feeding began, the wren suddenly became friendly. He hunted up small green worms, probably such as are good for wrenlings, and offered them to the young sparrows.

Nestlings are never known to refuse anything to eat, and wren food seemed to suit the sparrows, for they soon outgrew the nursery.

All summer this queer thing went on. The sparrows reared three or four broods, and the wren did his full share of the work,—and not only of feeding the young, but of repairing and rebuilding the nest for each fresh brood.