A Vireo as Hostess 257 



then as much as to say, "Hello; that is an ant's egg, isn't it?" stretched out 

 her neck and took it. For a moment she held it, rather doubtfully, it seemed, 

 in the tip of her bill, but presently she swallowed it, and then settled herself 

 very contentedly in the nest, with the air of one whose final decision had been 

 fully justified. It was not necessary to be an ornithologist to understand that 

 she thoroughly enjoyed that ant's egg, and she also had the appearance of one 

 whose mind had been set at ease on a very important question. 



A moment later she confirmed her own opinion by taking another ant's egg 

 in the same way, after which I quietly withdrew, leaving her to digest both 

 her food and her strange experience. 



Next day I returned and after she had promptly accepted a few more ants' 

 eggs from the end of the weed-stalk, I stepped up a little closer and offered 



"HELLO! THAT IS AN ANT'S EGG, ISN'T IT?" 



one between my thumb and forefinger. After a little hesitation she took it, 

 and from that moment we were on friendship's footing. She seemed much 

 interested, if not actually pleased, whenever I approached; she would some- 

 times stretch far out over the rim of the nest in order to make quick connections 

 with the food I brought her, and did not mind in the least if I stroked her on 

 the head or back with my finger. At first she was a little nervous when I 

 stroked her throat, and when I persisted she slipped off the nest. But as she 

 got used to me she minded less and less and would even allow me to lift her 

 off her eggs and put her gently back. 



In a day or two I felt sufficiently well acquainted with Madame Vireo to 

 introduce my friends. Usually the introduction came as a surprise. I would 



