^ott& from iTielQ auD ^tudp 



A Home in a Cellar 



The Plictbe of which I am about to 

 write was first observed on April 12. 

 Seven or eight days later its supposed mate 

 arrived, and it was amusing to see them as 

 they flew about together peering and exam- 

 ining different places near the house. Two 

 or three times I startled the pair by opening 

 a door which leads from the kitchen to a 

 back room or shed. 



In a week's time, after the arrival of the 

 mate, the building site was chosen, a small 

 board projecting from a beam above a win- 

 dow inside the cellar. Day after day they 

 brought grass, moss and mud and an 

 occasional feather until the structure was 

 complete. 



We were in the haiiit of closing and 

 locking the cellar door as night drew near; 

 but now that our feathered friends had con- 

 structed tiieir chjniicile in tlie cellar, we left 

 it open. 



On May 4 there was one pinkish white 

 egg in the nest. The next day another was 

 laid, and so on until, on May 7, there were 

 four eggs. Then the intervention of one 

 day, and on May 9 there were five eggs in 

 the nest to be hatched. Then the female 

 was confined more or less to the nest. 



After fourteen days there were twD naki-d 

 birds; a few hours later, three; tiie next 

 morning four, and later that morning, five. 

 The parents were kept very busy bringing 

 insects ant! bugs to appease the hunger of 

 the five little ones, which were soon clothed 

 in a suit of feathers reseml>ling their par- 

 ents', and also were fast filling their nest. I 

 thouglit that it was nearly time for them to 

 Hy, when a catastrophe befell tluin. 



One morning, fourteen days after their 

 birth, I went to make my customary call, 

 and not a young bird was to l>e seen and 

 the nest was torn to pieces. The poor par- 

 ents flew about crying piteously. I did not 

 know how to account for the accident unless 

 some rat wa> the depredalor. 



Any other bird would not have stayed in 

 the vicinity after such a mishap. But the 

 Phoebe, whose great characteristic is perse- 

 verance, did not allow such a calamity to 

 utterly discourage her from rearing a brood. 



Two days were taken for mourning, and 

 on June 10 they started with renewed vigor 

 to build over a shelf at a short distance from 

 the old site. They used what was left of 

 the first nest and brought fresh material, un- 

 til in four days a new one was completed 

 and one egg was deposited therein. By 

 June 18, another set of five eggs had been 

 laid, and incubation began once again. 



By this time the mother bird had become 

 acquainted with me, and ate stunned insects 

 which I had placed on the edge of the nest, 

 while I stood near by. 



Another two weeks passed, and Jul}- i 

 found the eggs hatching. They one and 

 all came at their respective time. The par- 

 ents had much the same duties to perform 

 as with the previous brood. 



Two weeks and five days elapsed, iluring 

 which time the young had grown large and 

 become feathered. Then came an impor- 

 tant epoch in their lives, the day for flying. 



After stretching and trying its wings, the 

 first-born was ready to leave its home and 

 with the encouraging calls of its parents 

 Hew fnitn the nest. It reached a clothes- 

 line a few yards from the door, where it sat 

 l>alancing itself and jerking its queer short 

 tail. -Before nightfall its parents had in- 

 duced it to fly a little farther to a pear tree. 

 Three more liirds had similar experiences. 



It took more coaxing and advising to get 

 tiie youngest away from home. While sit- 

 ting sleepily on tiie clotiies-line, a fly or 

 some insect chaiued to pass near iiis head. 

 \'ery suddenly and unexpectedly he leaped 

 into the air. caught the insect, but was un- 

 alile to regain his alighting pl.ice ami went 

 fluttering to the grouiul. Luckily, no cat 

 was near and his parents prompted him to 

 flv into a pear tree. There he sat ciiatting 

 very contentedly at regaining a perch. 



(95) 



