116 ■ BIRDS'-NESTS. 



lay far in among the mountains, had twice lost our 

 course in the trackless forest, and, weary and hungry, 

 had sat down to rest upon a decayed log. The chat- 

 tering of the young, and the passing to and fro of tho 

 parent birds, soon arrested my attention. The en- 

 trance to the nest was on the east side of the tree, 

 about twenty-five feet from the ground. At intervals 

 of scarcely a minute, the old birds, one after another, 

 would alight upon the edge of the hole with a grub 

 or worm in their beaks ; then each in turn would 

 make a bow or two, cast an eye quickly around, and 

 by a single movement place itself in the neck of the 

 passage. Here it would pause a moment, as if to de- 

 termine in which expectant mouth to place the mor- 

 sel, and then disappear within. In about half a min- 

 ute, during which time the chattering of the young 

 gradually subsided, the bird would again emerge, but 

 this time bearing in its beak the ordure of one of the 

 helpless family. Flying away very slowly with head 

 lowered and extended, as if anxious to hold the offen- 

 Bive object as far from its plumage as possible, the 

 bird dropped the unsavory morsel in the course of a 

 few yards, and alighting on a tree, wiped its bill on 

 the bark and moss. This seems to be the order all 

 day, — carrying in and carrying out. I watched the 

 birds for an hour, while my companions were taking 

 their turn in exploring the lay of the land around us, 

 and noted no variation in the programme. It would 

 DC curious to know if the young are fed and waited 

 *pon in regular order, and how, amid the darknesf 



