THE TANAGER SHOWS US THE NEST. 159 



at lengtli at a crossing road, on the other side of 

 which our path goes on, with a pile of logs like 

 a stile to go over. Over the logs we step, walk 

 a rod or two further, stop beside the blackened 

 trunk of a fallen tree, turn our faces to the left, 

 and behold the nest. 



Before us is one of nature's arches. A maple 

 sapling, perhaps fifteen feet high, has in some 

 way been bowed till its top touched the ground 

 and became fastened there, a thing often seen 

 in these woods. Thus diverted from its original 

 destiny of growing into a tree, it has kept its 

 "sweetness and light," sent out leaves and twigs 

 through all its length, and become one of the 

 most beautiful things in the woods — a living 

 arch. Just in the middle of this exquisite bow, 

 five feet above the ground, is the tanager's nest, 

 well shielded by leaves. We never should have 

 found it if the little fellow in scarlet had not 

 made so much objection to our going up this 

 particular passage that we suspected him of hav- 

 ing a secret in this quarter. He went ahead of 

 us from tree to tree, keeping an eye on us, and 

 calling, warily, "chip-chur!" When we sat 

 down a few moments to see what all the fuss 

 was about, we saw his spouse in her modest 

 dress of olive green on a low branch. She, too, 

 uttered the cry "chip-chur!" and seemed dis- 

 turbed by our call. Looking around for the 



