# The Story of the Robins/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III.
THE NESTLINGS FRIGHTENED BY THE GARDENER.
The cock bird, having finished his breakfast, flew out at the window, followed by his mate; and as soon as they were out of sight, Mrs. Benson continued her discourse:—"And would you really confine these sweet creatures in a cage, Frederick, merely to have the pleasure of feeding them? Should you like to be always shut up in a little room, and think it sufficient if you were supplied with victuals and drink? Is there no enjoyment in running about, jumping, and going from place to place? Do you not like to keep company with little boys and girls? And is there no pleasure in breathing the fresh air? Though these little animals are inferior to you, there is no doubt but they are capable of enjoyments similar to these; and it must be a dreadful life for a poor bird to be shut ​up in a cage, where he cannot so much as make use of his wings, where he is separated from his natural companions, and where he cannot possibly receive that refreshment which the air must afford to him when at liberty to fly to such a height. But this is not all; for many a poor bird is caught and taken from its family, after it has been at the trouble of building a nest, has perhaps laid its eggs, or even hatched its young ones, which are by this means exposed to certain destruction. It is likely that these very redbreasts may have young ones, for this is the season of the year for their hatching; and I rather think they have from the circumstance of their always coming together."
"If that be the case," said Harriet, "it would be a pity indeed to confine them. But why, mamma, if it is wrong to catch birds, did you at one time keep canary-birds?"
"The case is very different in respect to canary-birds, my dear," said Mrs. Benson; "by keeping them in a cage I did them a kindness. I considered them as little foreigners who claimed my hospitality. This kind of bird came originally from a warm climate; they are in their nature very susceptible of cold, and would perish in the open air in our winters; neither does the food which they feed on grow plentifully in ​this country; and as here they are always bred in cages, they do not know how to procure the materials for their nest abroad. And there is another particular which would greatly distress them were they to be turned loose, which is the persecution they would be exposed to from other birds. I remember once to have seen a poor hen canary-bird, which had been turned loose because it could not sing; and surely no creature could be more miserable. It was starving for want of food, famishing with thirst, shivering with cold, and looked terrified to the greatest degree; while a parcel of sparrows and chaffinches pursued it from place to place, twittering and chirping with every mark of insult. I could not help fancying the little creature to be like a foreigner just landed from some distant country, followed by a rude rabble of boys, who were ridiculing him because his dress and language were strange to them."
"And what became of the poor little creature, mamma?" said Harriet. "I was going to tell you, my dear," replied Mrs. Benson; "I ordered the servant to bring me a cage, with seed and water in their usual places; this I caused to be hung on a tree, next to that in which the little sufferer in vain endeavoured to hide herself among the leaves from her cruel pursuers. No sooner did the servant retire than the ​poor little wretch flew to it. I immediately had the cage brought into the parlour, where I experienced great pleasure in observing what happiness the poor creature enjoyed in her deliverance. I kept her some years; but not choosing to confine her in a little cage, I had a large one bought, and procured a companion for her of her own species. I supplied them with materials for building; and from them proceeded a little colony, which grew so numerous that you know I gave them to Mr. Bruce to put in his aviary, where you have seen them enjoying themselves. So now I hope I have fully accounted for having kept canary-birds in a cage."
"You have indeed, mamma," said Harriet.
"I have also," said Mrs. Benson, "occasionally kept larks. In severe winters vast numbers of them come to this country from a colder climate, and many perish. Quantities of them are killed and sold for the spit; and the birdcatchers usually have a great many to sell, and many an idle boy has some to dispose of. I frequently buy them, as you know, Harriet; but as soon as the fine weather returns, I constantly set them at liberty. But come, my dears, prepare for your morning walk, and afterwards let me see you in my dressing-room."
"I wonder," said Frederick, "whether our ​redbreasts have got a nest? I will watch to-morrow which way they fly, for I should like to see the little ones."
"And what will you do, should you find them out?" said his mamma; "not take the nest, I hope?"
"Why," replied Frederick, "I should like to bring it home, mamma, and put it in a tree near the house; and then I would scatter crumbs for the old ones to feed them with."
"Your design is a kind one," said Mrs. Benson, "but you would greatly distress your little favourites. Many birds, through fear, forsake their nests when they are removed; therefore I desire you to let them alone if you should chance to find them." Harriet then remarked that she thought it very cruel to take birds' nests. "Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Benson, "those who commit such barbarous actions are quite insensible to the distresses they occasion. It is very true that we ought not to indulge so great a degree of pity and tenderness for animals as for those who are more properly our fellow-creatures—I mean men, women, and children; but as every living creature can feel, we should have a constant regard to those feelings, and strive to give happiness rather than inflict misery. But go, my dear, and take your walk." Mrs. Benson then left them, to attend her ​usual morning employments; and the children, attended by their maid, passed an agreeable half-hour in the garden.
In the meantime the hen redbreast returned to the nest, while her mate took his flight in search of food for his family. When the mother approached the nest, she was surprised at not hearing as usual the chirping of her young ones; and what was her astonishment at seeing them all crowded together, trembling with apprehension! "What is the matter, my nestlings," said she, "that I find you in this terror?" "Oh, my dear mother," cried Robin, who first ventured to raise up his head, "is it you?" Pecksy then revived, and entreated her mother to come into the nest, which she did without delay; and the little tremblers crept under her wings, endeavouring to conceal themselves in this happy retreat.
"What has terrified you in this manner?" said she. "Oh! I do not know," replied Dicky; "but we have seen such a monster as I never beheld before," "A monster, my dear? pray describe it." "I cannot," said Dicky; "it was too frightful to be described." "Frightful indeed!" cried Robin; "but I had a full view of it, and will give the best description I can. We were all sitting peaceably in the nest, and very ​happy together; Dicky and I were trying to sing, when suddenly we heard a noise against the wall, and presently a great round red face appeared before the nest, with a pair of enormous staring eyes, a very large beak, and below that a wide mouth with two rows of bones, that looked as if they could grind us all to pieces in an instant. About the top of this round face, and round the sides, hung something black, but not like feathers. When the two staring eyes had looked at us for some time, the whole thing disappeared."
"I cannot at all conceive from your description, Robin, what this thing could be," said the mother; "but perhaps it may come again." "Oh! I hope not!" cried Flapsy; "I shall die with fear if it does." "Why so, my love?" said her mother; "has it done you any harm?" "I cannot say it has" replied Flapsy. "Well, then, you do very wrong, my dear, in giving way to such apprehensions. You must strive to get the better of this fearful disposition. When you go abroad in the world you will see many strange objects, and if you are terrified at every appearance which you cannot account for, you will live a most unhappy life. Endeavour to be good, and then you need not fear anything. But here comes your father; perhaps he will be able to explain ​the appearance which has so alarmed you today."
As soon as the father had given the worm to Robin, he was preparing to depart for another, but, to his surprise, all the rest of the nestlings begged him to stay, declaring they had rather go without their meal, on condition he would but remain at home and take care of them. "Stay at home and take care of you!" said he; "why, is that more necessary now than usual?" The mother then related the strange occurrence which had occasioned this request. "Nonsense!" said he; "a monster! great eyes! large mouth! long beak! I don't understand such stuff. Besides, as it did them no harm, why are they to be in such terror now it is gone?" "Don't be angry, dear father," said Pecksy, "for it was very frightful indeed." "Well," said he, "I will fly all around the orchard, and perhaps I may meet this monster." "Oh, it will eat you up! it will eat you up!" said Flapsy. "Never fear," said he; and away he flew.
The mother then again attempted to calm them, but all in vain; their fears were now redoubled for their father's safety; however, to their great joy, he soon returned. "Well," said he, "I have seen this monster." The little ones then clung to ​their mother, fearing the dreadful creature was just at hand.
"What, afraid again?" cried he; "a parcel of stout hearts I have in my nest, truly! Why, when you fly about in the world, you will in all probability see hundreds of such monsters, as you call them, unless you choose to confine yourselves to a retired life; nay, even in woods and groves you will be liable to meet some of them, and those of the most mischievous kind." "I begin to comprehend," said the mother, "that these dear nestlings have seen the face of a man." "Even so," replied her mate; "it is a man, no other than our friend the gardener, who has so alarmed them."
"A man!" cried Dicky; "was that frightful thing a man?" "Nothing more, I assure you," answered his father, "and a good man too, I have reason to believe; for he is very careful not to frighten your mother and me when we are picking up worms, and has frequently thrown crumbs to us when he was eating his breakfast." "And does he live in this garden?" said Flapsy. "He works here very often," replied her father, "but is frequently absent." "Oh, then," cried she, "pray take us abroad when he is away, for indeed I cannot bear to see him." "You are a little simpleton," said the father, "and if you ​do not endeavour to get more resolution, I will leave you in the nest by yourself when I am teaching your brothers and sister to fly and peck; and what will you do then? for you must not expect we shall go from them to bring you food."
Flapsy, fearful that her father would be quite angry, promised to follow his direction in every respect; and the rest, animated by his discourse, began to recover their spirits.