The Song of the Cardinal | Page 4

rasping scream of
the blue heron, as he strikes terror to the hearts of frogdom; while the
occasional cries of a lost loon, strayed from its flock in northern
migration, fill the swamp with sounds of wailing.
Flashing through the tree-tops of the Limberlost there are birds whose
colour is more brilliant than that of the gaudiest flower lifting its face to
light and air. The lilies of the mire are not so white as the white herons
that fish among them. The ripest spray of goldenrod is not so highly
coloured as the burnished gold on the breast of the oriole that rocks on
it. The jays are bluer than the calamus bed they wrangle above with
throaty chatter. The finches are a finer purple than the ironwort. For
every clump of foxfire flaming in the Limberlost, there is a cardinal
glowing redder on a bush above it. These may not be more numerous
than other birds, but their brilliant colouring and the fearless disposition
make them seem so.
The Cardinal was hatched in a thicket of sweetbrier and blackberry. His
father was a tough old widower of many experiences and variable
temper. He was the biggest, most aggressive redbird in the Limberlost,
and easily reigned king of his kind. Catbirds, king-birds, and shrikes
gave him a wide berth, and not even the ever-quarrelsome jays plucked
up enough courage to antagonize him. A few days after his latest
bereavement, he saw a fine, plump young female; and she so filled his
eye that he gave her no rest until she permitted his caresses, and carried

the first twig to the wild rose. She was very proud to mate with the king
of the Limberlost; and if deep in her heart she felt transient fears of her
lordly master, she gave no sign, for she was a bird of goodly proportion
and fine feather herself.
She chose her location with the eye of an artist, and the judgment of a
nest builder of more experience. It would be difficult for snakes and
squirrels to penetrate that briery thicket. The white berry blossoms
scarcely had ceased to attract a swarm of insects before the sweets of
the roses recalled them; by the time they had faded, luscious big berries
ripened within reach and drew food hunters. She built with far more
than ordinary care. It was a beautiful nest, not nearly so carelessly
made as those of her kindred all through the swamp. There was a
distinct attempt at a cup shape, and it really was neatly lined with dried
blades of sweet marsh grass. But it was in the laying of her first egg
that the queen cardinal forever distinguished herself. She was a fine
healthy bird, full of love and happiness over her first venture in
nest-building, and she so far surpassed herself on that occasion she had
difficulty in convincing any one that she was responsible for the result.
Indeed, she was compelled to lift beak and wing against her mate in
defense of this egg, for it was so unusually large that he could not be
persuaded short of force that some sneak of the feathered tribe had not
slipped in and deposited it in her absence. The king felt sure there was
something wrong with the egg, and wanted to roll it from the nest; but
the queen knew her own, and stoutly battled for its protection. She
further increased their prospects by laying three others. After that the
king made up his mind that she was a most remarkable bird, and went
away pleasure-seeking; but the queen settled to brooding, a picture of
joyous faith and contentment.
Through all the long days, when the heat became intense, and the king
was none too thoughtful of her appetite or comfort, she nestled those
four eggs against her breast and patiently waited. The big egg was her
treasure. She gave it constant care. Many times in a day she turned it;
and always against her breast there was the individual pressure that
distinguished it from the others. It was the first to hatch, of course, and

the queen felt that she had enough if all the others failed her; for this
egg pipped with a resounding pip, and before the silky down was really
dry on the big terracotta body, the young Cardinal arose and lustily
demanded food.
The king came to see him and at once acknowledged subjugation. He
was the father of many promising cardinals, yet he never had seen one
like this. He set the Limberlost echoes rolling with his jubilant rejoicing.
He unceasingly hunted for the ripest berries and seed. He stuffed that
baby from morning until night, and never came with food that he did
not find him standing a-top the others calling for