THE ROBIN. 7 
dried grass. This is the typical nest, but of course, 
there are marked variations from it. Usually it 
is firmly fixed in the crotch of a branch or close 
to the body of the tree where its weight can be 
supported. 
But who does not know instances of oddly 
placed nests outside of trees? The “ American 
Naturalist” records one “on the top of a long 
pole, which stood without support in an open barn- 
yard,” and Audubon notes one within a few feet 
of a blacksmith’s anvil. A number of interesting 
sites have come within my notice. Among them 
are: the top of a blind; an eave trough; a shingle 
that projected over the inner edge of an open shed; 
and, most singular of all, one inside a milk-house, 
set precariously on the rim of a barrel that lay on 
its side, just above the heads of the men who not 
only appeared both night and morning with alarm- 
ingly big milk pails, but made din enough in ply- 
ing a rattling creaky pump handle to have sent 
any ordinary bird bolting through the window. 
Robins usually nest comparatively high, though 
Audubon tells of a nest found on a bare rock on 
the ground, and this summer I found one in the 
crotch of a small tree only two and a half feet 
from the earth. It was near a hen yard, so per- 
haps Madam Robin was following the fashion by 
laying her eggs near the ground. In any case, 
she was on visiting terms with the hen-roost, for, 
singularly enough, there were feathers plastered 
