Some large bird has stolen it from his palace.
Even a bird is smart enough to push the fledgling out of the nest when it fails to fly on its own.
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.
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.
Occasionally, he even lent a hand with the chores at Bird Song.
The regiment fluttered like a bird preening its plumage and became motionless.
I'll call him 'SB,' for 'Song Bird' instead of 'BS' for 'Bird Song.'
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.
The blue-bird makes her nest in a hollow tree and her eggs are blue.
No wonder that man added this bird to his tame stock--to say nothing of the eggs and drumsticks.
I've chased more bad guys running Bird Song bed and breakfast than when I was a Parkside, Pennsylvania police detective.
The great bird was high in the air and flying towards the far-off mountains with all his money.
I had a mug, and little bird and candy.
Even before I knew her, she had handled a dead chicken, or bird, or some other small animal.
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.
The ten-year-old girl had resided at Bird Song with David Dean, his wife Cynthia, and Dean's seventy-seven-year-old stepfather, Fred O'Connor, for the past six months.
Once when a boy gave him a pair of doves which he had snared, St. Francis had a nest made for them, and the mother bird laid her eggs in it.
He turns into a bird in his hands and flies away.
Her residence was compliments of Janet O'Brien, one of a long line of Bird Song's temporary domestics.
Now, thanks to an overzealous social worker, Martha was scheduled to become reacquainted with mommy dearest—in Denver, over three hundred miles away from Bird Song's nest.
This was unusual, as Bird Song's matron had pestered him about the details of the emerging flora since he had arrived at the inn the prior week.
The rocking chairs were back, four in a row, red, green, yellow, and purple, adding a blaze of color against the century-old white building of Bird Song.
The last of Bird Song's unfed guests arrived with a yawn.
Dean wondered if Bird Song could afford the food bill as he sat down and joined Pumpkin for a cup of coffee.
He knew Cynthia wanted to update him on her talk with Martha, but both realized time was short as they planned to take Martha to dinner for her last night under Bird Song's wing.
Caleb and me—when he and his family stayed here at Bird Song—we played a lot together.
When Saturday's daylight arrived to David Dean's exhausted eyes, the time had slipped past his usual rising hour and voices and footsteps rattled the old timbers of Bird Song.
I wanted a bird to remind you of Bird Song, and that you're gonna fly back here real soon.
I wanted a bird to remind you of Bird Song, and that you're gonna fly back here real soon.
It's too busy at Bird Song and I've been—goofing off all morning.
While the Deans didn't like to leave Bird Song unattended, occasionally it was unavoidable.
Here's another bird from Mr. Boyle.
It is Nature's own bird which lives on buds and diet drink.
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.
The Deans had married a year ago and poured their life savings into Bird Song.
On Friday morning Bird Song's full complement of guests were treated to the usual bounty of Cynthia's baking, but with less zip and smiles than most days.
Fred was anxiously glancing between her bedroom and the front door where he was expecting the arrival of Bird Song's latest domestic helper candidate.
Bird Song's managerial pair tried to present a breakfast happy face over coffee cake and muffins, but their efforts continued to fall short as they waited for Martha to make an appearance.
So far, wee Maria stood head and shoulders over any other domestic helper Bird Song had employed.
Even Bird Song's gilded front sign, advertising the bed and breakfast, had been washed of a year's dust from the unpaved side street.
There was no time for Cynthia to talk to her husband, who was busy serving breakfast to the late sleepers while she showed Maria, by hand communication, the upstairs chores of Bird Song.
Bird Song's parlor began filling with guests whose canceled activities put them in a what-do-you-do-next? mood of bewilderment.
It will do you good to get away from Bird Song for a while.
He promised to return in an hour and ferry the group back to Bird Song, which was less than a mile away.
The sheriff's office was located only a few blocks east of Bird Song, behind the County Court House, where Fred O'Connor would report for jury duty the following Tuesday.
They had knocked heads and locked wills over the death of a Bird Song guest during the prior January's Ice Climbing Festival when bitter words were exchanged.
He was off with a jog and a wave, leaving the Deans in front of Bird Song.
While Bird Song fed its guests only breakfast, there was always fresh fruit available and the management triumvirate ate heartily of nature's stores.
She stomped on her cigarette butt and kicked it into the daisies before slamming her way into Bird Song.
Cynthia would attend the New Jersey wedding—thank God for Visa—while Fred and Dean would hold down Bird Song.
A party of Bird Song's male residents plus the Dawkins gals had gathered in the parlor.
Monday was transition day at Bird Song, with the arrival of six new guests to fill three vacated rooms, with only the four Dawkins, Brandon Westlake, and Pumpkin Green staying on.
Dean held back the door and Fitzgerald brushed past him, turning into the parlor where most of the Bird Song guests were gathered.
While he was pleased that Bird Song was starting the day on a pleasant note, the knot in his stomach remained to remind him of their pending trip to the mine.
By the time they were ready to leave, all of Bird Song was up and about, scurrying around like mice in a cheese shop.
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.
The couple was newly married, Bird Song still under construction, and with Fred out of town, they stole two days on a camping honeymoon.
They are too young to fly, and the mother bird is making a great fuss about it.
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.
Perhaps the mocking bird is singing them to sleep.
The mocking bird does not live in the cold north.
She learns because she can't help it, just as the bird learns to fly.
A bird sits on the next bough, life-everlasting grows under the table, and blackberry vines run round its legs; pine cones, chestnut burs, and strawberry leaves are strewn about.
Sometimes, after staying in a village parlor till the family had all retired, I have returned to the woods, and, partly with a view to the next day's dinner, spent the hours of midnight fishing from a boat by moonlight, serenaded by owls and foxes, and hearing, from time to time, the creaking note of some unknown bird close at hand.
Such an eye was not born when the bird was, but is coeval with the sky it reflects.
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.
Whichever side you walk in the woods the partridge bursts away on whirring wings, jarring the snow from the dry leaves and twigs on high, which comes sifting down in the sunbeams like golden dust, for this brave bird is not to be scared by winter.
Perched up there, you're more like a bird than a man.
As a result of this the unconsidered tune, like the song of a bird, was extraordinarily good.
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.
The Deans were on their way to their quarters in the rear of Bird Song when Fred O'Connor returned, fresh from an evening with Mrs. Worthington.
What's more, none seemed bent on murder, a decided improvement over some of Bird Song's earlier guests!
Cynthia devoured every publication she could find on the subject and was looking forward to spending some quality time hiking the high country, if the demand of Bird Song's chores would allow snatches of free time.
Maria was a wee bird of a woman—probably a teenager, Hispanic, and even shorter than Cynthia, who barely topped five feet.
Dean was in front of Bird Song, trying to mow the lawn, still blanketed with the moisture of the now-ended drizzle when he remembered his promise to pick up Pumpkin Green and whoever else needed chauffeuring from the pool.
As he was about to leave, Brandon Westlake returned with Cynthia and, being sympathetic to his labors, volunteered to ferry the returning swimmers back to Bird Song.
Dinner was a quiet affair, cooked by the returning Fred O'Connor—hamburgers, a tad over-broiled, but the Deans appreciated the effort as they were busy with Bird Song's other chores.
Dean continued to exhibit restrain with his comebacks in deference to the improved moods around Bird Song.
If that were the case, Dean wondered, why had Joseph also rented a Jeep and parked out of sight behind Bird Song?
He seemed compelled to explain his presence as he accompanied them back to Bird Song.
"Food and extra clothing, I guess," Cynthia answered as they neared Bird Song.
Mr. Dean wished he felt a modicum of confidence in himself as the three drifted off to sleep—David and Cynthia Dean, with SB, the Bird Song owl, snuggled next to them.
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.
Like a bird let loose, his horse leaped forward.
No doubt the bird had mistaken the purple silk for something good to eat.
A little bird had already sung the good news in my ear; but it was doubly pleasant to have it straight from you.
The mother bird lays her eggs in a nest and keeps them warm until the birdlings are hatched.
Suddenly something happened: the young officer gave a gasp and bending double sat down on the ground like a bird shot on the wing.
"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.
Be it as it may, both seem happy as pigeons in a bird bath with their modest lives.
He was just a guest at Bird Song.
She set down the bird-cage and poked the boy with her parasol.
Napoleon, after making the Cossack a present, had him set free like a bird restored to its native fields.