As soon as father and son were alone, the father said: "Now you are going to catch Flies before sunset. You have let your poor mother nearly work her feathers off for you. (Of course, feathers do not come off so, but this was his way of speaking.) She is very tired, and you are not to act like this again. There comes a Fly. Catch him!"
The young Phoebe made a wild dash, missed his Fly, and came back to the syringa bush whimpering. "I knew I couldn't," he said. "I tried as hard as I could, but he flew away."
"Yes," said his father. "You tried once, just once. You may have to try a hundred times before you catch one, but that is no reason why you should not try. Go for that Mosquito."
The son went, and missed him, of course. This time he knew better than to talk about it. He just flew back to his perch and looked miserable.
"I think you got a little nearer to this one," said his father. "Go for that Fly!"
The young Phoebe was kept darting here and there so often that he had no time to be sulky. Indeed, if people have to keep moving quite fast, they soon forget to want to be sulky. At last he was surprised by his father's tucking a very delicious Bluebottle down his throat. "Just for a lunch," he explained. "Now try for that one."
The son made a sudden lurch and flight, and actually caught him. It was a much smaller Fly than the one which his father had fed him, but it tasted better. He swallowed it as slowly as he could, so as to feel it going down as long as possible. Then he began to be happier. "Watch me catch that Mosquito," he said. And when he missed him, as he did, he made no fuss at all--only said: "I'll get the next one!" When he missed that he simply said: "Well, I'll get the next one, anyhow!"
All day long he darted and failed or darted and succeeded, and more and more often he caught the insect instead of missing him.
When the long shadows on the lawn showed that sunset was near, his mother and sister came back. His mother had a delicious morsel for him to eat. "Open your bill very wide," she said, "you poor, tired, hungry child."
He did open his bill, because a Phoebe can always eat a little more anyway, but he did not open it until he had said: "Why, I'm not much tired, and I am not really hungry at all. You just ought to see me catch Flies!"