46 JOURNAL OF MAINE ORNITHOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



within a few yards of where I sat. Once I saw him seize a worm 

 and kill it by turning lengthwise of a branch and tapping his bill 

 sharply against the bark. Often after this, as I filled my pitcher at 

 the spring, I heard his cheerful strain, "You see it. You know it. 

 Do you hear me? Do you believe it?" Time after time I was in- 

 veigled by the witchery of that song to drop my pitcher, crawl 

 through the fence, and wander after him. I hoped to get a peep at 

 his exquisite little domicile. My shoes were scratched, my skirt 

 frayed, and my hair disheveled day after day to no purpose. 



It was not until the twentieth of July that I discovered a cup- 

 shaped nest, suspended by silken tapes from a slender maple quite 

 twelve feet above the ground. I suppose as I placed my hand on 

 the sapling I jarred it slightly, for the most beautiful young bird I 

 ever saw peered over the side of his swinging cradle, and then flut- 

 tered to my feet. Underneath the little body was as white and soft 

 as newly fallen snow; the crown, back, tail, feet and legs were a 

 soft green grey; the beak grey, with touches of yellow; the eyes 

 black with a white ring around them and a white line over them; 

 the wings mostly green and yellow. When I would have picked up 

 this mite it gave a loud chirp and concealed its head under the near- 

 est big leaf. In a few moments, it was safe in my large loosely 

 woven hat; then I felt free to secure the nest and examine it. It, 

 too, was grey, but duller, about the warm grey color of the maple 

 trunk, and formed a charming contrasted harmony with the green 

 leaves and red stems of the foliage, yet so inconspicuous was it that 

 I almost overlooked it. At a very short distance it might easily 

 have been mistaken for a wasp's nest. The foundation of the dainty 

 structure was woven of strips of birch bark, wasp-paper, and fine 

 bark fibre. It was lined with the same bark fibre, pine needles, and 

 a few hemlock twigs, and the whole felted or pasted together in a 

 most wonderful manner. Here was a cradle for the young at once 

 beautiful, warm, strong and durable. 



The other nestlings I suppose had already gone. The parent 

 birds were not in sight. Instantly I conceived the idea of having my 

 prize photographed. The daint}' mite evidently hated the thought 



