to the plains, being a- bird of eastern 

 North America. It breeds from New 

 Jersey and Illinois northward. I once 

 found it breeding in central Iowa. 



The nest resembles that of the yellow 

 warbler, both in situation and compo- 

 sition. It is usually placed in the fork 

 of a bush or shrub from two to eightor 

 nine feet from the ground, made of the 

 fibrous bark of the milk-weed, or some 

 other hempen material, grass and 

 sometimes leaves, lined with some sort 

 of plant down and long hairs. The 

 bark fibers are wound about the bush 

 twigs, securely lashing the nest into 



the crotch. The four or five eggs are 

 of a creamy-white color, with a wreath 

 of reddish and dark brown spots and 

 dots around the larger end, the spots 

 becoming smaller and less numerous 

 both ways from this wreath. They 

 average about .66 x .50 of an inch. 



In the fall they are among the first 

 warblers to appear, often being seen 

 early in August, and continuing in the 

 region for several weeks. At this time 

 of year their bright colors are wanting, 

 but they are the same birds for all that, 

 and may be readily recognized by their 

 trim form and animated carriage. 



NATURE STUDY — HOW A NATURALIST IS TRAINED. 



SOME VIEWS OF JOHN BURROUGHS. 



THE knowledge of nature that 

 comes easy, that comes through 

 familiarity with her, as through 

 fishing, hunting, nutting, walk- 

 ing, farming — that is the kind that 

 reaches and affects the character and 

 becomes a grown part of us. We ab- 

 sorb this as we absorb the air, and it 

 gets into our blood. Fresh, vital knowl- 

 edge is one thing; the desiccated fact 

 is another. Do we know the wild 

 flower when we have analyzed it and 

 pressed it, or made a drawing of it? 

 Of course this is one kind of knowl- 

 edge and is suited to certain minds; 

 but if we cannot supplement it with the 

 other kind, the knowledge that comes 

 through the heart and the emotions, 

 we are poor indeed. 



I recently had a letter from the prin- 

 cipal of a New England high school 

 putting some questions to me touching 

 these very matters: Do children love 

 nature? How shall we instil this love 

 into them? How and when did I my- 

 self acquire my love for her? etc. In 

 reply I said: The child, in my opin- 

 ion, does not consciously love nature; 

 it is curious about things; about every- 

 thing; its instincts lead it forth into the 

 fields and woods; it browses around; it 

 gathers flowers; they are pretty; it 

 stores up impressions. Boys go forth 

 into nature more as savages; they are 

 predaceous, seeking whom they may 

 devour; they gather roots, nuts, wild 



fruit, berries, eggs, etc. At least this 

 was my case. I hunted, I fished, I 

 browsed, I wandered with a vague long- 

 ing in the woods, I trapped, I went 

 cooning at night, I made ponds in the 

 little streams, I boiled sap in the maple- 

 woods in spring, I went to sleep under 

 the trees in summer, I caught birds on 

 their nests, I watched for the little 

 frogs in the marshes, etc. One keen 

 pleasure which I remember was to take 

 off my shoes and stockings when the 

 roads got dry in late April or early May, 

 and run up and down the road until I 

 was tired, usually in the warm twilight. 

 I was not conscious of any love for na- 

 ture, as such, till my mind was brought 

 in contact with literature. Then I dis- 

 covered that I, too, loved nature, and 

 had a whole world of impressions stored 

 up in my subconscious self upon which 

 to draw. I found I knew about the birds, 

 the animals, the seasons, the trees, the 

 flowers, and that these things have be- 

 come almost a grown part of me. I 

 have been drawing upon the reservoir 

 of youthful impressions ever since. 



If nature is to be a resource in a 

 man's life, one's relation to her must 

 not be too exact and formal, but more 

 that of a lover and friend. I should 

 not try directly to teach young people 

 to love nature so much as I should aim 

 to bring nature and them together, and 

 let an understanding and intimacy 

 spring up between them. — The Outlook. 



