The Gnat-catchers 



By Millie Noel Long 



I was spending the summer at a country place in southern Ohio. My study 

 was a large, breezy attic shaded by tall trees. Just outside my west window were 

 the slender branches of a young poplar tree, and one May morning I discovered 

 that the tree contained a nest. For years I had been an observer of birds, but 

 had never discovered so queer a nest as this one. The outside was many-colored, 

 and, in spots, shone with a silky lustre. With the aid of my glass I soon obtained 

 a correct idea of the materials. The silky spots were composed of the strong, 

 glossy fibres of plants. The bright-colored patches were petals of flowers which 

 had been woven into the structure. The nest was small and cup-shaped, and 

 suspended from one of the most slender twigs. The next morning, at early dawn. 

 I heard a soft little warble, and creeping noiselessly to the window, saw both the 

 male and female birds, the former sitting above the nest, singing his little song — 

 the latter greatly agitated as she balanced herself on the edge of the nest. After 

 studying the outlines and coloring of the tiny couple, I decided that they were 

 Blue-gray Gnat-Catchers. The female continued her anxious flutterings, and at 

 intervals, poked and thrust at something in the depths of the nest. Finally, the 

 male bird ceased singing and descended to help her. Together they worked anc* 

 pushed, and managed to rollover the edge an egg, which seemed enormous com- 

 pared with that tiny nest. 



As fast as possible I descended to the spot where the egg had fallen, a 

 distance of thirty feet, and although it was badly crushed, I could identify it 

 as the egg of the cow troupial, that well-known tramp among birds. It was of 

 a dull white, inclined to buff, and marked with irregular spots of brown. After- 

 ward I frequently heard the soft little warble of the male bird from my window, 

 but the song could not be heard from the ground because of its small volume. 

 At times, when the birds were very busy, I could hear a soft "tsee, tsee, tsee," 

 no louder than the squeak of a mouse. 



The resemblance between this pair was stronger than is usual among birds. 

 Both were bluish-gray on the upper part of the body, and bluish white beneath. 

 The female appeared a shade lighter than her mate, and the black line over the 

 eye in the male was absent in the female. 



Including the long slender tail, the birds did not exceed five inches in length. 

 They continued their house-keeping, but the nest was too deep to afford me a 

 glimpse of the eggs or of the young birds when they appeared. 



Just at the most interesting time, when the young birds were at the right 

 age to begin to fly, I was called away for a period of several weeks, and on my 

 return all the birds had disappeared, leaving the faded, dingy, empty nest still 

 firmly clinging to the bough. 



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