THE TRAGEDIES OF THE NESTS. 37 
way, but whether in the open day or under cover of 
darkness I have nomeans of knowing. The frisky red 
squirrel was doubtless the culprit. The other nest 
was in a maple sapling, within a few yards of the 
little rustic summer-house already referred to. The 
first attempt of the season, I suspect, had failed in 
a more secluded place under the hill; so the pair had 
come up nearer the house for protection. The male 
“sang in the trees near by for several days before I 
chanced to see the nest. The very morning, I think, 
it was finished, I saw a red squirrel eels a tree 
but a few yards away; he probably knew what the 
singing meant as well as I did. I did not see the in- 
side of the nest, for it was almost instantly deserted, 
the female having probably laid a single egg, which 
the squirrel had decawnads 
If I were a bird, in building my nest I should fol- 
low the example of the bobolink, placing it in the 
midst of a broad meadow, where there was no spear of 
grass, or flower, or growth unlike another to mark its 
site. I judge that the bobolink escapes the dangers to 
which I have adverted as few or no other birds do. 
Unless the mowers come along at an earlier date than 
she has anticipated, that is, before July 1st, or a skunk 
goes nosing through the grass, which is unusual, she is 
as safe as bird well can be in the great open of nature. 
She selects the most monotonous and uniform place 
she can find amid the daisies or the timothy and clover, 
and places her simple structure upon the ground in 
the midst of it. There is no concealment, except as 
the great conceals the little, as the desert conceals the 
pebble, as the myriad conceals the unit. You may 
find the nest once, if your course chances to lead 
you across it and your eye is quick enough to note 
