The Nest-Hole of the Bluebird. 



fixed on the ground, and that a tent was then pitched so close to it that the birds 



could not fly straight to the entrance but had to flit first to the trunk, and then go 



around to the hole, it is not surprising that they held aloof. I waited exactly one hour 



and twenty-five minutes before the mother again brought food to her young. Meanwhile 



it was interesting to see what was happening, from a peep-hole of the tent. Both birds 



would fly to the tree which they had known as their home, and mechanically go through 



their usual motions in approaching 



the nest, hopping first to this branch, 



then to that, following a well-defined 



path, which they had traveled hun- 



dreds of times, and finally hover over 



the spot which was once occupied by 



the nest, as if to become assured 



that their eyes had not deceived 



them. 



These actions were repeated by 

 both Bluebirds many times, while 

 they ultered their responsive phee- 

 nr note. Again, calling eagerly, 

 both would fly towards the new po- 

 sition of the nest. Finally, the fe- 

 male, who in this case assumed the 

 whole task of feeding the brood, 

 came to the stump, paused a mo- 

 ment, quickly entered the hole and 

 came out in hot haste. The absolute 

 stillness, however, had restored confi- 

 dence, for in five minutes she re- 

 turned with a huge green grasshopper 

 and in ten minutes was back again 

 with another. In the course of 

 each visit the plaintive call would 

 announce her presence as she ap- 

 proached with insect in bill, and 

 alighted on a half-dead peach tree 

 close by. After a momentary survey 

 of the situation she would flit to the 



stump, sit for a few seconds on a dead branch at one side, then hop down, fly to the hole and 

 catch on the bark or cling to the rough edge of the circular opening with her sharp claws, 

 pausing there a tenth of a second, or long enough to cast a swift glance backwards. In 

 this position she was photographed many times, with grasshoppers, crickets, green larvae, 

 katydids, and once with a large robber fly in her beak, the profile of her head being sharply 

 vignetted by the dark circular entrance. The young must have been all a-quaver at the 

 sound of their mother's wings, for the old stump seemed to become suddenly alive with 

 brisk chirping sounds the moment she touched any part of it. The bird used her tail to 



Fig. 61. Female Bluebird about to enter nest-hole with green 



