WOODLAND AND WATER-COURSE. 671 



is, says Coues, " obscure, its only pertinence being in geo-, eartb, sig- 

 nifying the humility of this bird of brake and brier." 



Keeping a sharp lookout, I see the pair flit down among the sedges, 

 the white tops of the meadow rue trembling as they push against the 

 stout stems, and go skulking here and there among the tussocks of 

 rushes where their nest is concealed. Approaching cautiously and 

 tenderly, pushing aside every culm and stem, I at last discover their 

 home, exquisitely placed in a tuft of sedge, some of the spears of which 

 are bent over it so as to form a regular canopy. Ornithologists say 

 that the nest is often built over at the top, with a hole for the entrance. 

 This one has no such contrivance, the thick, overbending sedges an- 

 swering as a dome and portal. The foundation is composed of dead 

 leaves and coarse grasses, very compact, as if the architects were aware 

 of the dampness of the situation, and had taken the necessary precau- 

 tions to prevent the eggs from spoiling before hatching-time. The 

 cavity is quite deep and wide for the size of the bird, and has the un- 

 usual though sparse lining of horse-hair. There are two eggs in the 

 nest, and, though I read from no authority that the general ground- 

 color should be of a flesh-tint, it is certainly true of these, the larger 

 end being covered thickly with dark purple and brown blotches. Bend- 

 ing the spikes over the nest again, as naturally as a clumsy hand could 

 perform such a delicate task, I went away, trusting that the disturbed 

 pair had comprehended my purpose of merely looking in upon them. 

 But it was of no use ; their nice sense of the proprieties had been dis- 

 turbed, and a week afterward the ogre had the remorse of gazing into 

 the deserted home from which the songs, confined in their little round 

 prisons, were never to be set free. 



The streams and swamps offer more attractive entertainment, at 

 this season, than the dry uplands. Every bird in the vicinity comes 

 here to slake its thirst and bathe. Here is a merry skating carnival 

 of gerris, and a larger party of whirligig water-beetles dodging about 

 in every direction, but never appearing to collide, as they pounce upon 

 the drowning flies, or the twisting, jerking larva? of the gnat. Down 

 through the thick alders and overhanging sprays of sambitcus the red- 

 eyed vireo flits from water to twig and from twig to water, striking it 

 with her wings, and sipping it as she flutters over the stream. I am 

 inclined to believe that this may be the manner in which all birds be- 

 longing to this group perform their ablutions and quench their thirst. 

 They are not groundlings, and shun the earth as the swallows do the 

 foliage. 



Ah ! here is a small flock of chickadees (Parus atricapillus), that 

 I have surprised, climbing about on the trunk of this patriarchal wil- 

 low. The black-capped titmouse is a real Mark Tapley among birds, 

 and actually seems to be less joyous in the midst of summer sunshine 

 and foliage than when the cold winds whirl the snows of winter be- 

 fore his door. How wonderful it is that such a wee bit of a bird 



