26 BIRDS. 
May, a song-sparrow, that had evidently met with 
disaster earlier in the season, built its nest in a thick 
mass of woodbine against the side of my house, about 
fifteen feet from the ground. Perhaps it took the 
hint from its cousin, the English sparrow. The nest 
was admirably placed, protected from the storms by 
the overhanging eaves and from all eyes by the thick 
screen of leaves. Only by patiently watching the 
suspicious bird, as she lingered near with food in her 
beak, did I discover its whereabouts. (That brood is 
safe, I thought, beyond doubt. But it was not; the 
nest was pillaged one night, either by an owl, or else 
by a rat that had climbed into the vine, seeking an 
entrance to the house. ‘The mother-bird, after reflect- 
ing upon her ill-luck about a week, seemed to resolve 
to try a different system of tactics and to throw all 
appearances of concealment aside. She built a nest 
afew yards from the house beside the drive, upon a 
smooth piece of greensward. ‘There was not a weed 
or a shrub or anything whatever to conceal it or mark 
its site. The structure was completed and incubation 
had begun before I discovered what was going on. 
“Well, well,” I said, looking down upon the bird 
almost at my feet, “this is going to the other extreme 
indeed; now, the cats will have you.” The desper- 
ate little bird sat there day after day, looking like a 
brown leaf pressed down in the short green grass. 
As the weather grew hot, her position became very 
trying. It was no longer a question of keeping the 
eggs warm, but of keeping them from roasting. The 
sun had no mercy on her, and she fairly panted in the 
middle of the day. In such an emergency the male 
robin has been known to perch above the sitting 
female and shade her with his outstretched wings. 
