192 A CLEVER CUCKOO. 



On the eighth day of our visits it happened 

 that I \vent to the woods alone. I found the 

 bird at home, as usual, and armed with an 

 opera-glass, 1 placed myself at some distance 

 to watch her. Half an hour passed before she 

 stirred a feather, but I was not lonely. A 

 mourning-warbler came about, eating and sing- 

 ing alternately, after the manner of his kind, 

 and the pretty trill of the black-throated green 

 warbler came out of the woods. Then a crow 

 mamma created a diversion by helping herself to 

 an egg for her baby's breakfast, when a robin 

 and a vireo — curious pair ! — took after her 

 with loud cries of indignation and reproach. 



When this excitement was over, the trio had 

 disappeared in the woods, and silence had fallen 

 upon us again, I heard the cuckoo call at a little 

 distance, and in a moment the bird himself 

 alighted on a twig three feet above the nest. 

 He was a beauty, but he appeared greatly ex- 

 cited. He threw up his tail till it pointed to the 

 sky over his head, then let it slowly drop to the 

 horizontal position. This he did three times, 

 while he looked down upon his household, so 

 absorbed that he did not see me at all. 



Then the patient sitter vacated her post, and 

 he flew down to the nest. The top was hidden 

 by leaves, so that I cannot positively affirm that 

 he sat on the eggs, but it is certain that he re- 



