136 Birds of Lakeside and Prairie 



tions of the law's protection. The bird lays but two eggs, 

 and the nest is so poorly constructed that a heavy rain-storm 

 frequently utterly demolishes it. The mourning dove's nesting 

 habits are erratic. In some sections of the country it builds 

 only upon the ground, while in other sections the nest is 

 invariably placed either in a tree or on a stump top. One 

 thing in favor of the perpetuation of the mourning dove's 

 species is the fact that the birds generally nest twice in a sea- 

 son. I saw a curious thing once in a Grand Prairie orchard. 

 A male mourning dove was feeding two fledgeling young that 

 were perched on a limb not four feet removed from the spot 

 where the mother bird was sitting on two newly laid eggs. I 

 met the father dove frequently during the next week. He 

 had led his charges away from the nest, but he was attending 

 faithfully to the duties of feeding the youngsters and of 

 teaching them to fly. The nest with its eggs was on a limb 

 that had been broken away partly from the body of the tree. 

 How the eggs were contained by the few wisps of straw and 

 the twig or two that did service as a nest was a puzzle. As 

 it was the mother had to be content that season with one 

 brood, for a heavy wind broke the limb on which her second 

 home was placed completely away from the tree trunk and 

 sent eggs and nest tumbling to the ground. 



In the same Grand Prairie orchard I found the nest of a 

 yellow-billed cuckoo, which showed but little more evidence 

 of a builder's ability than did that of a mourning dove. 

 From beneath the limb upon which it was placed one could 

 see the sky through the nest. There were four eggs in the 

 ramshackle structure, and it is a pleasure to say that they 

 escaped destruction in the storm that brought disaster to the 

 home of the dove. The cuckoo loves caterpillars. When a 



