When young,
I was present at an act of this sort, and, as an illustration of courage
and affection in the parent bird, I may relate the circumstance. The
nest, with four fledglings, was about a quarter of a mile outside the
village. It was carried through the village to a quarry, as far on the
opposite side. The parent bird followed the boys, uttering a plaintive
cry all the way. On reaching the quarry, the nest was laid on the
ground, and a certain distance measured off, where the boys were to
stand and throw stones at it. While this was being done, the parent bird
flew to the nest, and made strenuous efforts to draw it away; and when
the stones were thrown, it flew to a little distance, continuing its
cry; and only flew away when it was made the mark for the stones. These
boys would never have thought of doing the same thing to a nest of
robins. It was said to have a drop of the devil's blood in its veins,
and that its jerky and unsteady flight was a consequence of this. The
hatred to the yellow hammer, however, was only local.
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