208 



Bird -Lore 



•of its bill with my finger. Though it would 

 have its picture taken, this was too much, 

 -and it flew away. Probably the bird had 

 become accustomed to people passing by 

 about a rod away, so that I was nothing 

 out of the ordinary. 



While I was going homeward I heard 

 the song of one of these birds nearby. In 

 almost the exact spot from which the notes 

 seemed to come I found the nest contain- 

 ing one egg. Had this bird been singing 

 on its nest as the Warbling Vireo often 

 ■does? Surely, circumstances would point 

 to this, for many times before I have found 

 the nest in the same place where I have 

 heard the bird singing. The next time I 

 ■came to these nests was on June 22, 

 and I made it a point to discover whether 

 my belief was true. From some distance 

 away, I approached silently behind a bank 

 ■over which I soon was able to observe the 

 laird in question, through a glass, from about 

 rfive rods away. It was unaware of my 

 presence and, of course, acted in a natural 

 way. From the nest it watched for insects, 

 and occasionally sang, thus confirming my 

 suspicions. 



But to return to the nest first found. 

 On this same day I found the bird on its 

 nest as usual and just as tame as ever. 

 This time, after taking a couple of pictures 

 a.t close range, I again reached out my 

 hand and stroked its tail, then its back and 

 finally the top of its head. At this it flew 

 ■off but was soon back again at the edge of 

 the nest while I was looking at the eggs. 

 Doubtless the bird would 'soon have dis- 

 covered that I could be trusted, but unfor- 

 tunately I was now obliged to leave home 

 and therefore had no further opportunity 

 to gain its confidence, or learn the history 

 of its family. — Walter W. Bennett, 

 Sioux Cilv, la. 



weather, and left an unsightly place among 

 the green. It was over a "dry well" for 

 roof water, and I saw a chance to accom- 

 plish two things at once. (I was going to 

 say "to kill two birds with one stone," but 

 the figure would be out of harmony with 

 Bird-Lore's motto!) Finding an old 

 wash-bowl in my neighbor's barn, left 

 over from a renovation of the bathroom, 

 I plugged up the overflow and put a 

 removable cork in the outlet. Then, tak- 

 ing up a circular piece of sod from above 

 the dry well, and removing a few stones 

 beneath, I sank the bowl flush with 

 the surface. I then procured a round, flat 

 stone from a wall near by and placed it in 

 the bowl, so that when the latter was full 

 there should be an inch or so of water for 

 a bird to wade in; and the bath was com- 

 plete. The bowl is filled every day, and 

 from time to time — once a week or oftener 

 — I clean it out b}' removing the cork and 

 turning the hose into it. The water runs 

 off below through the stones of the dry 

 well. (If the bath is not emptied frequent- 

 ly, it may become, as I discovered, a 

 breeding-place for mosquitoes). 



The birds soon began to avail themselves 

 of the drinking and bathing privileges 

 afforded them, though I think they were 

 at first a little shy of the glaring white rim 

 of the bowl. This was soon overgrown 

 with grass, however; for now the grass 

 flourishes there, and from being dry and 

 unsightly the spot has become one of the 

 greenest on the lawn. So my two objects 

 were accomplished; and the bath has 

 performed a third service besides, for a 

 small leopard frog made his home in it for 

 some time last summer. Before winter, I 

 removed the bowl and filled the hole up 

 with stones. — Fr.a.ncis H. Allen, West 

 Roxburv, Mass. 



An Inexpensive Birds' Bath 



My birds' bath cost me nothing, except 

 a few minutes' work, and though the con- 

 ditions were perhaps exceptional, an 

 account of it may contain a suggestion or 

 two for some reader. In a certain spot on 

 my lawn the grass "burned up" in dry 



Shovelers in Massachusetts 



On April 18, while spending the day at 

 Marshfield, Mass., I came across a pair of 

 Shovelers (Spatula dypeata) and watched 

 them for over three hours. They were 

 feeding in a fairly good-sized pond on the 

 salt-marshes, which at the time was hardly 



