38 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 



Whatever went on, the woodpeckers took no 

 part in it. Back and forth they passed, ahnost 

 stealthily, caring not who ruled the grove so 

 that their precious secret was not discovered. 

 Neither of them stayed to watch the nest, nor 

 did they come and go together. The birds in 

 the neighborhood might be inquisitive, — there 

 was no one to resent it; blackbirds scrambled 

 over the oak, robins perched on the screening 

 branch, and no one about the silent entrance 

 disputed their right. 



In the first flush of dismay at finding them- 

 selves watched, the golden-wings, as I said, re- 

 doubled their cautiousness. They tried to keep 

 the position of the nest secret by coming from 

 the back, gliding around on the trunk, and 

 stealing in at the door, or by alighting quietly 

 high up in the body of the tree, and coming 

 down backward, — that is, tail first. But by 

 remaining absolutely without motion or sound 

 while they were present, I gradually won their 

 toleration, and had my reward. The birds 

 ceased to regard me as an enemy, and, though 

 they always looked at me, no longer tried to keep 

 out of sight, or to hide the object of their visits. 

 During the first day of watching I had the good 

 fortune to see a second empty shell brought out 

 of the nest, and dropped a little farther off than 

 the first had been ; and I feel safe in assuming 



