52 HOME LIFE OF THE REDSTART. 



flew to a maple-tree, and poured out his soul in 

 the quaint though not very musical ditty of his 

 race. Sometimes he stood still on a branch, 

 like a bird who has something to say ; but more 

 often he rushed around after insects on this tree, 

 and threw in the notes between the firm snaps of 

 his beak. 



Promptly every half hour the little sprite took 

 his way to that precious apple branch, and 

 dropped, light as a snow-flake, on a certain twig 

 on the nearest side of his homestead. A flash 

 from the nest announced the departure of ma- 

 dame, and he popped into her place. Not to set- 

 tle down to business, as she did, — far from it ! 

 It is a wonder to me how even a female redstart 

 can sit still. On taking his place, he first ex- 

 amined the treasures it held, leaning over the 

 edge with a solicitude charming to see; and 

 when he did at last cover them from sight, his 

 black velvet cap still bobbed up and down, this 

 way and that, as though he were taking advan- 

 tage of his enforced quiet to plume himself. 

 Precisely three minutes he allowed his modest 

 spouse for her repast. At the expiration of that 

 time he deserted, darted away, and began to call 

 from the next tree, when she instantly returned. 

 Sometimes she was at hand, and alighted on a 

 twig on the farther side of the nest, when he 

 bounded off and out of sight. She carefully in- 



