BIRDS' NESTS 



cover that we are looking at an egg. We avert 

 our eye for a moment. When we look again the 

 egg has gone ; nothing remains but the white shingle, 

 diversified by the black and reddish spots. But we 

 know now how we have been deceived, and in a Uttle 

 while the eggs seem to grow all around us, each 

 exactly counterparting the area upon which it 

 rests. Many birds, including the ringed plover, 

 lay on this shingle, and in each case the deception is 

 perfectly contrived. 



The use of sticks in nest-building is, of course, 

 common. Such nests vary from the slight platform 

 of the wood pigeon, through which the eggs may be 

 seen, and which often appear too frail to support 

 the sitting bird, to the vast eyrie of the golden eagle — 

 the accumulation of years — which easily bears the 

 weight of a man. The stick-builders, indeed, 

 generally seem to be fond of accumulating material, 

 which they heap upon the old year's nest ; the 

 collection of a pair of jackdaws, for instance, having 

 been known to completely block the stairway of the 

 old castle which they had chosen as a nesting site. 

 The rooks, too, frequently build on to the old 

 homestead in preference to constructing a new 

 domain, and in the older rookeries great platforms 

 are often foimd which contain several hay-Hned 

 hollows, in which the eggs are laid. 



Amongst British birds the great crested and the 

 little grebe are essentially the water builders. The 

 coot and the waterhen build nests so close to the 

 water that their nests are often immdated ; but it 

 is reserved to the grebes to build upon rafts which 

 actually float upon the surface. 



The statement may still be found in some of the 

 older natural histories that the grebes thrust their 

 legs through the nests when sitting, and so 

 paddle them from place to place. One very ancient 



29 



