80 Nightingales 



themselves acted as a buttress, whilst in the front 

 it was built out, until there was quite a solid col- 

 lection of withered leaves hanging down, and at first 

 sight appearing to have been merely blown there by a 

 winter gale. Within this cunningly-constructed negli- 

 gence was the neatest of cups, containing four olive- 

 brown eggs, on which the pretty little brown bird sat. 

 So beautifully was she hidden, owing to her colouring 

 and the deceiving appearance of the nest, that I had 

 put my hand close to her in order to look under the 

 reed-sheaf before I discovered her ; and then I only did 

 so on account of her flitting away under my very nose. 



After that, with great caution, I used to step through 

 the plants of giant poppies (Bracteatum) which grew 

 in the border between me and the nest, and without 

 appearing to notice her, take sly peeps. And she, 

 sweet little bird, used to sit tight, her bright eye 

 shining just over the edge of the nest's cup, her russet 

 tail pressed against the wall of reed behind her. 



Whenever I did this, the male bird would at once 

 make himself heard in the bushes near by, with his 

 " Wee ! pr-r-r — Wee ! pr-r-r " of alarm and warning. 

 I cannot help thinking that she must have said, 

 " Plague take the man, I wish he'd keep quiet, and 

 then I shouldn't be discovered." Birds often betray 

 the whereabouts of their nests by the clamour they 

 make, and the distress of mind they display. 



When the young ones were hatched and had 

 begun to feather, I took two out of the four to rear up 

 by hand, not being willing to deprive the poor birds 

 of all their offspring ; but hand-reared nightingales are 



