THE BLACK TERN 29 



when I passed on a few rods she become less excited and 

 less loud in her protests of anger. 



When I was a boy we used to play a game called magic 

 music. A boy or girl was sent from the room and the 

 rest of the party agreed on some object which he was to 

 find on his return. When he again entered the room 

 some one began playing a violin, playing slowly and 

 softly when he was no where near the thing agreed upon 

 and faster and louder as he approached the object he 

 was to find. Guided by this music alone he was sup- 

 posed to discover what the company had decided upon. 

 Now it struck me that this bird and I were playing a game 

 of magic music. At any rate, had it been her greatest 

 anxiety to help me find her nest she could not have done 

 it better. I turned and retraced my steps, when her 

 outcry became more constant and more excited and again 

 she began darting close to my head. When I came within 

 three or four feet of her nest she actually struck my hat 

 I stopped at once and peering about saw the nest — a pile 

 of rushes and reeds apparently dumped with no par- 

 ticular order in the edge of the shallow water among 

 the rushes. She had not even taken the trouble to wallow 

 a respectable depression in the top of this pile, but had 

 merely laid her three eggs together on the top. I never 

 have been able to understand how she could brood these 

 eggs; first, because there were so many openings in the 

 under side of the nest that I do not see how she could 

 keep them warm, placed as they were only four or five 

 inches above the water; second, I do not see how she 

 could hover and turn them, as every bird must turn her 

 eggs, without their rolling apart if not into the water. 



Her eggs must be wonderfully vital and capable of 



