196 BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES 



a feather-flash. It was wonderful. There was no 

 pause or stay, not one light little perch on the 

 smooth brink, not a flutter above it even, no twist 

 or twirl in the air, nothing at all ; but he just flew 

 right through it, as though on through the wide 

 fields of air. I doubt if he touched the sides of it, 

 even, though the hole looks as small as himself. 

 And it is the same every time. With absolute 

 precision of aim each bird comes down on that dark 

 little portal, and vanishes through it, Hke a ball 

 disappearing through its cup. If they touch it at 

 all, they fit it like that. 



For upwards of an hour, now, the two birds pass 

 and repass one another, popping in and out and 

 carrying something in with them each time, but 

 such a small something that I can never make out 

 what it is — a little pinch of stuff, one may call it, 

 only just showing in the beak. Sometimes it is green, 

 as though the birds had picked off tiny pieces of 

 the growing pine-needles, and sometimes it looks 

 brown, which may mean that they have pulled off 

 some bark — but always very small. An attempt to 

 follow the birds on their collecting journeys, and see 

 what they get, is unsuccessful. They fly, very 

 quickly, into the tops of the firs, which stand dark 

 and thick all around, and are immediately lost to 

 view. Whatever the material is, they come to the 

 nest with it every Hvq or six minutes, nor do they 

 once make their entrance except by flying directly 

 through the aperture. They would be ashamed, 

 I think, to perch and hop down into it. Very 

 pretty it was to see these little birds coming and 

 going — especially coming. Sometimes they would 



