214 Bird - Lore 



concealed. The hillside was covered by a matted growth of tall grass, brakes, 

 red clover, everlasting, and other weeds, and much caution had to be exercised to 

 avoid the danger of stepping on the nest. Parting a clump of fireweed,! at last 

 discovered a tunnel-like opening under a bunch of low Christmas ferns. A 

 few inches back from the mouth of the opening was the nest. Its roof of dried 

 fern fronds and grass, with its location on a north slope, protected it from the 

 sun, as well as from rain. I looked in vain for yawning bills, or other sign of 

 life. In the dim light, the nest seemed empty; but my fingers came in contact 

 ■with a soft, downy mass, the only motion of which was a slight rise and fall 

 from the breathing. Not wishing to be seen by the parents at the nest, I did 

 not investigate further. 



The parents seemed to share equally the responsibility of providing for the 

 young, though the mother was somewhat the more zealous. She visited the 

 nest without hesitation as long as I remained on the up-hill side of the nest, 

 near the house, where she was accustomed to seeing people pass, but would 

 not approach the nest if I appeared anywhere near it on the lower side. 

 The male was much more suspicious. He was always uneasy if any one appeared 

 in the neighborhood of the nest, and would approach it only after much delay, 

 and by a circuitous route among the weeds. Often, on finding a spectator, 

 he would, after waiting and scolding for some time, himself devour the food 

 he had brought, instead of taking it to the nest. Twice, on their arrival, the 

 old birds found me at the nest, and their behavior on these occasions was 

 remarkable. Instead of showing the frenzy of fear or anger that might have 

 been expected, they seemed quite unconcerned, and watched calmly from the 

 vines in an indifferent way, as if to say: "Do not hurry yourself on our account. 

 We can wait as long as you please." Was it the courage born of despair, or 

 a ruse to make me think that I was 'cold'? 



Two other Juncos, that came to the yew tree, were promptly driven away 

 by nesting pairs, both of whom happened to be at home, though no attention 

 was paid to the other birds of other species that frequented the tree. The 

 necessity of providing food for the young developed unsuspected fly-catching 

 powers in the Juncos. It was very amusing to watch the process. They were 

 not expert enough to 'strike' their prey, but clumsily chased it instead and, 

 often missing it, had to turn and try again. Sometimes the moth would drop 

 on being attacked, and the bird would drop after it, wheeling and jabbing and 

 turning somersaults in vain attempts to capture it. The male, on spying a 

 large winged ant below him, dropped for it, caught it and gave it a jerk to the 

 ground ; caught it again, and repeated the performance several times. When he 

 finally carried his prey to the nest, the wings were left behind. 



I allowed myself but one brief visit to the nest each day, and, with one 

 exception, always found the tree nestlings as motionless as graven images. 

 They lay close in the nest, facing the opening, with bills tightly closed. On 

 the fifth day, two of them had their eyes open for the first time. On the seventh 



