SHE SHOWED ME THE NEST. 109 



Almost immediately she passed me, and alighted 

 on one of a row of tall trees that lined the road. 

 There she hovered for a moment, giving sharp 

 digs at one spot, as though detaching something, 

 and then flew straight along the line to an im- 

 mense silver poplar. 



Here at last the bird settled, and a wild hope 

 sprang up in my heart. Stealing nearer to the 

 tree without taking my eyes from the spot; 

 ignoring the danger of pitfalls in my path, of 

 holes to fall into and rocks to fall over, of briers 

 to scratch and snakes to bite, I drew as near as 

 I dared, and then cautiously raised my glass to 

 my eyes, and behold ! the nest with my lady 

 upon it ! The thrill of that moment none but a 

 fellow bird-lover can understand. What now 

 was the most beguiling of chats ; what the dan- 

 ger of dislocating my neck ; what the dread of 

 neighborhood wonder ; what the annoyance of 

 mosquitoes, or dogs, or small boys, or loose cat- 

 tle, or anything ? There was the nest. (I am 

 obliged to admit, parenthetically, that nearly all 

 these calamities befell me during my devotion to 

 that nest, but I never faltered in my attentions, 

 and I never regretted.) 



At the moment of discovery, however, I was 

 too excited to watch. First carefully locating 

 the tiny object by means of a dead branch, — 

 for I knew I should have to seek it again if I 



