Early in spring a couple of bluebirds set out to look for a home.
“What do you think of this vacant dove-cote for our nest, sweet wife?”
asked he. “The view from the top of the gable is beautiful.”
“I am afraid of all these windows,” said she, peeping in at each. “The
wind might prove too strong for our little ones when they come.”
“Parents must think of that,” said he. And on they flew.
Under the eaves of a barn they found an empty swallow’s nest. “The very
thing for us,” they both cried, and alighted to look at it. At this
minute who should arrive from the south but the swallow who owned it? He
saw at once what they were at and flew straight into it, crying,
“Kwi-kwi-kwivet,
My house is not to let.”
“How delightful to own a home of your own,” said the she-bluebird.
“Isn’t it?” agreed the he-bluebird.
“Is that a wren’s house over there?” asked she, flying over. But when she
attempted to poke her nose inside, out rushed two little wrens at her and
scolded her away.
“My love,” said he, “how you are trembling. Let us build a house of our
own.”
And that’s what they did. In a stump in an open field they found exactly
the hole they wanted and there they made their nest.
It wasn’t long before their little ones came and found it the snuggest in
the world.