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Bird- Lore 



The morning they left there were 27 here 

 at breakfast, and after they had eaten 

 they gave me a rare concert, sitting on 

 fence-posts and mounds of snow. One 

 was on a post near the house and next to 

 the street. When he flew up there, the 

 post was piled high with snow, and he 

 went though all the motions of taking a 

 bath. Then he proceeded to make his 

 toilet and practise his spring song, pay- 

 ing not the slightest attention to people 

 and sleighs passing, nor to me when I 

 shook my dry mop out of the window near 

 him. That night when I scattered the 

 seeds for supper, only one Lark came, and 

 he did not appear again. I became very 

 much interested in these Larks, and wish 

 some one who knows them in their sum- 

 mer home would write Bird-Lore about 

 them. — Mrs. Arthur F. Gardner, 

 Troy, N. Y. 



A Curious Bluebird's Nest 



A few weeks ago (May 12) the caretaker 

 of one of our local cemeteries showed me 

 the nest of a Bluebird which is unique in 

 my experience. As usual, the nest was 

 placed in a cavity, but the astonishing 

 thing was that the cavity was lying directly 

 on the ground. In short, the birds had 

 chosen an earthen jar used to hold flowers 

 for the dead. This jar was lying upon its 

 side. The nest was composed of grasses 

 and feathers and contained four pale-blue 

 eggs. Both birds were close by. The jar 

 measured about five inches across the 

 bottom, two and a half inches across the 

 narrowed opening, and about seven 

 inches in length. The eggs could not have 

 been more than an inch or an inch and a 

 half above the ground. — Manley B. 

 TowNSEND, Nashua, N. H. 



Was It the Mother Bird? 



One summer day, last year, as my aunt 

 and I were driving through a pretty 

 country road, we nearly ran over a young 

 Phoebe. I jumped out of our runabout 

 in eager haste and picked it up, intending 



to put it over the stone wall into the 

 meadow, out of harm's way. However, 

 my mind turned to cats, which are always 

 lurking about the country, and other ene 

 mies to small, helpless birds. So I decided 

 to take the small captive home with me, 

 and I kept it imprisoned in my hands 

 until I reached there. 



From the spot where I found the bird 

 it was over four miles to our destination. 

 When we arrived home, we were kept 

 busy feeding our small guest, which was 

 indeed a task, for the Phoebe eats only 

 insects caught on the wing. 



The next morning, as we were break- 

 fasting, the window in the dining-room 

 was open and we heard as usual the songs 

 of birds, and occasionally the young 

 Phoebe would chirp as though in answer 

 to the call of a Robin in a nearby tree. 

 The Phoebe was on the window-sill, with 

 the window open and screened. 



Presently we heard a whir or flutter as 

 of wings. Upon looking up we observed 

 on the outside of the screen a grown 

 Phoebe hovering above the small one, and 

 darting at it as if to reach it. 



We hastened out-doors and placed a 

 small branch in the same window (on the 

 outside). Then we put the young Phoebe 

 on the branch, where he clung with all his 

 tiny might. Nearby there were some dense 

 shrubs. The Phoebe finally became im- 

 patient and flew into these, and it was 

 indeed a difficult task to find him. How- 

 ever he was soon returned to the 

 branch. 



Then the other Phoebe returned and 

 fed the young bird insects. Presently the 

 mate came, and together all the morning 

 they fed the young bird, calling it from 

 tree to tree, and from bush to bush, and 

 coaxing it until it finally left our premises 

 entirely and, to our knowledge, never 

 returned. 



We have always wondered whether it 

 was the mother bird that followed the 

 young one and fed it, or whether it was 

 an adoption in bird life. What do Bird- 

 Lore's readers think? — Jeannette K. 

 Finnemore, Chippens Hill, Bristol, Conn. 



