Even a bird is smart enough to push the fledgling out of the nest when it fails to fly on its own.
Be it as it may, both seem happy as pigeons in a bird bath with their modest lives.
It had been a perfect day at Bird Song—until the phone call came and tanked any semblance of tranquility into a mire of despair.
Occasionally, he even lent a hand with the chores at Bird Song.
A party of Bird Song's male residents plus the Dawkins gals had gathered in the parlor.
I've chased more bad guys running Bird Song bed and breakfast than when I was a Parkside, Pennsylvania police detective.
A young couple whose life dream was owning a Bird Song look-alike learned from Fred the principals would be absent for the day and offered to stick around playing temporary innkeepers.
At once a little girl rose from her seat and walked to the door of the car, carrying a wicker suit-case in one hand and a round bird-cage covered up with newspapers in the other, while a parasol was tucked under her arm.
She set down the bird-cage and poked the boy with her parasol.
Jumping out of the buggy he put Dorothy's suit-case under the seat and her bird-cage on the floor in front.
They heard the sudden twittering of a bird, but could not find the creature anywhere.
In the open space between the clouds and the black, bubbling sea far beneath, could be seen an occasional strange bird winging its way swiftly through the air.
They are too young to fly, and the mother bird is making a great fuss about it.
Here's another bird from Mr. Boyle.
No doubt the bird had mistaken the purple silk for something good to eat.
The great bird was high in the air and flying towards the far-off mountains with all his money.
Some large bird has stolen it from his palace.
For instance, I could hand carve bird calls and then advertise them only to people who are looking at online content about hand-carved bird calls or who search the Internet for information about hand-carved bird calls.
One brief spring, musical with the song of robin and mocking-bird, one summer rich in fruit and roses, one autumn of gold and crimson sped by and left their gifts at the feet of an eager, delighted child.
Helen write anna george will give helen apple simpson will shoot bird jack will give helen stick of candy doctor will give mildred medicine mother will make mildred new dress [No signature]
Perhaps the mocking bird is singing them to sleep.
The blue-bird makes her nest in a hollow tree and her eggs are blue.
The blue-bird with his azure plumes, the thrush clad all in brown, the robin jerking his spasmodic throat, the oriole drifting like a flake of fire, the jolly bobolink and his happy mate, the mocking-bird imitating the notes of all, the red-bird with his one sweet trill, and the busy little wren, are all making the trees in our front yard ring with their glad song.
No wonder that man added this bird to his tame stock--to say nothing of the eggs and drumsticks.
The young suddenly disperse on your approach, at a signal from the mother, as if a whirlwind had swept them away, and they so exactly resemble the dried leaves and twigs that many a traveler has placed his foot in the midst of a brood, and heard the whir of the old bird as she flew off, and her anxious calls and mewing, or seen her trail her wings to attract his attention, without suspecting their neighborhood.
Some station themselves on this side of the pond, some on that, for the poor bird cannot be omnipresent; if he dive here he must come up there.
When I went to get a pail of water early in the morning I frequently saw this stately bird sailing out of my cove within a few rods.
Yet I rarely failed to find, even in midwinter, some warm and springly swamp where the grass and the skunk-cabbage still put forth with perennial verdure, and some hardier bird occasionally awaited the return of spring.
The regiment fluttered like a bird preening its plumage and became motionless.
Once more something whistled, but this time quite close, swooping downwards like a little bird; a flame flashed in the middle of the street, something exploded, and the street was shrouded in smoke.
Napoleon rode on, dreaming of the Moscow that so appealed to his imagination, and "the bird restored to its native fields" galloped to our outposts, inventing on the way all that had not taken place but that he meant to relate to his comrades.
"Look out!" came a frightened cry from a soldier and, like a bird whirring in rapid flight and alighting on the ground, a shell dropped with little noise within two steps of Prince Andrew and close to the battalion commander's horse.
He turns into a bird in his hands and flies away.