trepidation flew to the place, uttering loud screams and outcries,
sometimes settling on the fence just before the cat, which was unable to
make a spring in consequence of the narrowness of its footing. After a
little time, seeing that their distress made no impression on their
assailant, the male bird flew at the cat, settled on its back, and
pecked at its head with so much violence that it fell to the ground,
followed by the blackbird, which at length succeeded in driving it away.
Foiled in this attempt, the cat a short time after again returned to
the charge, and was a second time vanquished, which so intimidated her
that she relinquished all attempts to get at the young birds. For
several days, whenever she made her appearance in the garden, she was
set upon by the blackbirds, and at length became so much afraid of them,
that she scampered to a place of security whenever she saw them
approach."

"That was very bold indeed, Uncle Thomas. Birds seem to be all very much
attached to their young."

"Very much so, Harry; but perhaps not more so than many quadrupeds. Here
is a story of the squirrel's affection, which, though it does not
exhibit an instance of active defence against its enemies, affords one
of endurance equally admirable.

"In cutting down some trees on the estate recently purchased by the
crown at Petersham, for the purpose of being annexed to Richmond park,
the axe was applied to the root of a tall tree, on the top of which was
a squirrel's nest. A rope was fastened to the tree for the purpose of
pulling it down more expeditiously; the workmen cut at the roots; the
rope was pulled; the tree swayed backwards and forwards, and at length
fell. During all these operations a female squirrel never attempted to