198 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



been sitting under that very morning! The 

 female seated herself on top of the oak, watching 

 me with raised crest, while her mate disappeared 

 in a dark mat of leaves, probably mistletoe, where 

 he stayed so long that the possibility of a nest 

 waxed to a probability, and I made a rapid but 

 ecstatic ascent to the observer's seventh heaven. A 

 phainopepla's nest right on my own doorsill ! I 

 could hardly restrain my impatience, and was 

 tempted to shoo the birds away so I could go to 

 the nest ; when suddenly they opened their wings 

 and, crossing the valley, disappeared up a side 

 canyon ! Pulling myself together and reflecting 

 that I might have known better than to imagine 

 there- would be a nest so near home, I took up my 

 camp-stool and trudged back to the house. 



After that came a number of tantalizing hints. 

 When watching the third gnatcatcher's nest I 

 had seen a pair of phainopeplas flying sugges- 

 tively back and forth from the brush to the vari- 

 ous oaks, and thought the handsome lover fed 

 his mate as his relative the gentle high-bred wax- 

 wing does. Surely the wooing of these beautiful 

 birds should be carried on with no less fine feel- 

 ing, courtesy, and tenderness ; and so it seems to 

 be. The black knight flew low over my head 

 slowty, as if inspecting me, and then came again 

 with his lady, as if having said, " Dear one, I 

 would consult you upon this impending danger." 



After that, something really delightful came 



