222 Bird - Lore 



small brown bird; and so intent was he upon his song that he never saw me at 

 all. As for his dear love, she had neither eyes nor ears for anyone but her sweet 

 singer. He hopped backward before her, pouring out a continual, wonderful 

 melody. She followed, closely, silently. So they passed into the wild rose 

 thicket, out of sight, and gradually out of hearing. 



Swallows often came and looped the loop under and over the bridge that 

 crossed the ravine just at the edge of our domain. Robins built as readily in 

 the twin pines as in orchard trees. One pair of Robins raised a brood on a 

 beam under the bridge. The next year a pair foolishly built on a protruding 

 beam, and a cat soon left the feathers of the brooding mother in a pathetic 

 little heap. Young Robins with spotted breasts fluttered in the buck brush on 

 the slopes, and many Robins from the neighborhood resorted to our sanctuary 

 brook for drinks and baths, although the Palouse River was within sight and 

 even within hearing. 



We tempted the Mountain Bluebirds to Imild in the ravine by nailing a 

 box in a tree on the slope, where we could see it from our windows. To our 

 great delight they took the box, and four broods were raised there in two 

 summers. It turned out, however, that this location was only second choice. 

 A rather dilapidated old house in the neighborhood was first choice, when it 

 was not otherwise occupied. The Mountain Bluebirds are as exquisitely, as 

 enchantingly blue as an October sky. They are not the gentlest of birds, how- 

 ever. Ours were inclined to dispute possession of the Wrens' houses with their 

 proper tenants, even after they had proved to themselves, by repeated trials, 

 that the Wrens' doors were too small. The Wrens visited garden, orchard, field, 

 and ravine at their own sweet will. The Chipping Sparrows, with their jaunty 

 little caps of cinnamon-red, were companions in friendliness and usefulness to 

 the Wrens. They came and went to and from their nests in the smaller pines 

 quite openly. The Juncos, nesting on the ground, were naturally much shyer. 

 They are the most trusting of birds at other times, and the flash of their white 

 petticoats from beneath their gray cloaks could be seen in the wild garden on 

 almost any day the whole year round; but they were very careful not to betray 

 their homes. After the youngsters could help themselves a little, they were not 

 so cautious. It was amusing to watch a row of little black-hooded heads pop 

 up above the top of my old stump-seat every time either one of the parent 

 birds flew past me down the hill. 



The twin pines lured many visitors besides the Doves. The Meadowlarks 

 delighted to stand on their topmost twigs and pour out their high, sweet, varied 

 melodies. Magpies were both seen and heard there, occasionally. Brewer's 

 Blackbirds chose those trees for their convention hall in the autumn. When 

 the first brown needles began to sift down through their branches, the Nut- 

 hatches returned from the mountains and walked upside down all over them, 

 breaking off small bits of bark and dropping them into my eyes, quite carelessly 

 and cheerfully. 



