236 KNOWING BIRDS THROUGH STORIES 



derful things I had been doing and the still more wonderful 

 ones I meant to do. But before I got the story half out of 

 my mouth she said, "Floyd, do you know the hanging 

 birds are using your horsehairs today?'' Of course, I 

 could not eat dinner until I had gone out to watch, and 

 sure enough these birds were busy carrying strings and 

 horsehairs into the very top of the red maple tree, where 

 they were weaving them into a baglike nest. A place had 

 been selected where the strings could be woven about three 

 limbs, so the nest would be perfectly secure. For nearly 

 a week the birds worked busily carrying strings and hairs, 

 and after the second day more or less grass, to this nest. 

 When it was completed it was a sort of bag about six 

 inches deep and three or four inches in diameter. It had 

 been woven together so securely that it was almost as 

 strong as a cloth bag would have been. Inside of this 

 baglike network was a lining of wool from the sheep shed, 

 feathers from the chicken yard, and soft grass and moss. 

 The nest was so high that I could not climb to any place 

 where I could look into it, and both mother and father 

 told me that this bird is so shy that if I ever touched the 

 nest they would leave it even tho there were young birds 

 in it. I used to climb the maple tree to within ten or 

 twelve feet of the nest and watch it with longing eyes, but 

 never dared go nearer — ^not because I was afraid the birds 

 would leave the nest but because the limbs were so small 

 that I feared they would break with me. I spent so much 

 time watching this bird that she finally came to regard me 

 as a necessary evil, and went about her business as tho I 

 were not near. 



You will probably wonder what the real name of this 

 bird is, for doubtless you know that 'hanging bird" was not 



