INDIGO-BIRD. 121 
This June a pair of indigo-birds built in the 
edge of the woods only a few rods from the house, 
but I think they never ceased to regret their 
temerity. *The nest was a pretty little bunch of 
dry leaves and grass, and its deep, narrow cavity 
was lined with hair. It was wedged into the fork 
of a tiny beech, only six inches from the ground, 
and not more than three feet from the carriage 
- drive. The mother would sit quietly when wag- 
ons passed, but as soon as she found that I had dis- 
covered her nest would fly off in distress whenever 
I happened to be walking by. Unlike goldfinches 
and sparrows, the mother never got used to me, 
and to the last suspected me of —I don’t know 
what murderous intentions — darting off into the 
low bushes with her metallic cheep, cheep, as soon 
as she caught sight of me, and almost refusing to 
feed her babies till I had gone back to the house. 
Her husband, though somewhat suspicious, could 
not share her alarm; he chirped and jerked his 
tail about, but his anxiety had a perfunctory air. 
Earlier in the season I saw a very marked in- 
stance of this difference in temperament. I was 
walking through the edge of a clearing when I 
seared up a mother indigo-bird, apparently look- 
ing for a good site for her nest. “She was much 
excited, and twitched her tail as she flew about 
erying cheep, cheep. She made so much noise 
that her husband heard her, and came flying home 
to rescue her. He did not think either my dogs or 
