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Bird- Lore 



I certainly should not recommend Sparrow- 

 shooting to readers of Bird-Lore if my own 

 experiments in doing so had not proved highly 

 satisfactory as they have; for this year I have 

 had the pleasure of recording, in my yard, 

 more birds than ever before, and several 

 never seen there before; while the nests, built 

 all within twenty feet of the house, show that 

 the birds trust in us for their protection. Let 

 the following "nest-record" speak for itself: 



One Song Sparrow's nest and four young, 

 in shrubbery eight feet from our front steps; 

 one Chippy's nest in front-piazza vine, I'ust 

 built; two Bluebirds' nests in boxes, one 

 pair just raising second brood; one Yellow 

 Warbler's nest with young in bush; one Tree 

 Swallow's nest and eggs in box, live feet from 

 ground and near our parlor window, and one 

 Robin's nest and eggs on top of same box. 

 And I have killed no less than a score of 

 English Sparrows on these boxes since early 

 spring! And my Swallows are so tame that I 

 can stand within a yard of them without any 

 uneasiness on their part. — Richard M. 

 Hunt, Winchester, Mass. 



An Attractive Visitor 



On the ninth of May a friend gave me a 

 female Blackburnian Warbler which had evi- 

 dently been stunned in some way, as it was 

 lying with closed eyes when found. When the 

 exquisite little orange-throated creature came 

 into my possession she had greatly improved 

 and could fly about again. I brought her 

 home with me and placed her in my room 

 until after supper when I attempted to find 

 some insects with which to try to tempt her 

 appetite. Three circumstances greatly hind- 

 ered my success in this laudable undertaking. 

 In the first place, it was growing dusk. In the 

 second place, the season was but little ad- 

 vanced and the evening cool, and in the third 

 place, I am not related to the family Tyranni- 

 dae. However, I procured a few specimens 

 and attempted to feed my little friend, but 

 she refused to eat a mouthful. I picked up 

 my orange stick and found that the mite's 

 feet would close around it beautifully. After a 

 little I walked carefully to my bureau and 

 shut the sharpened end of the orange stick 

 in one of the drawers. I left the room, and 



when I returned later with the light I found 

 the tiny traveler still on the slick with her 

 head tucked carefully under her wing and 

 resembling a dainty pompon, save for the 

 almost imperceptible rising and falling of the 

 little breast. Later she roused a little and I 

 put out the light, fearing she would become 

 frightened and fly about the room. A few 



A VISITING BLACKBURXI.W WARBLER 



Photographed from nature 



moments later I lighted a match and found 

 that my guest had again tucked the head 

 under and was settled for the night. In the 

 morning she was still sitting on her perch 

 but later began to fly about the room. I 

 placed a fly on the rubber tip of my fencing 

 foil and slowly raised it toward her as she sat 

 on a picture-frame, but she still scorned my 

 advances. I climbed on a chair and placed a 

 fly on the picture-frame and on her return she 

 cocked her head and eyed it with interest. 

 The next time she came I was overjoyed to 

 see her snap up the little fly. I found a sunny 



