THE WARBLER DELIGHTED. 165 



for we had not been there three minutes before 

 a small, inconspicuous bird dropped into the 

 bushes a few feet from us. My friend's eye fol- 

 lowed her, and in a second fell upon the nest the 

 little creature was lining, in a low maple about 

 two feet from the ground. 



But who was she ? For it is one of the diffi- 

 culties about nests, that the brightly-colored 

 male, whom one knows so well, is very sure not 

 to show himself in the neighborhood, and his 

 spouse is certain to look just like everybody else. 

 However, there is always some mark by which 

 we may know, and as soon as the watcher se- 

 cured a good look she announced in an excited 

 whisper, "We have it ! a female blue, building." 



So it proved to be, and we planted our seats 

 against trees for backs, and arranged ourselves 

 to stay. The dog seeing this preparation, and 

 recognizing it as somewhat permanent, with a 

 heavy sigh laid himself out full length, and 

 composed himself to sleep. 



The work over that nest was one of the pret- 

 tiest bits of bird-life I ever watched. Never 

 was a scrap of a warbler, a mere pinch of feath- 

 ers, so perfectly delighted with anything as she 

 with that dear little homestead of hers. It was 

 pretty ; it looked outside like the dainty hang- 

 ing cradle of a vireo, but instead of being sus- 

 pended from a horizontal forked twig, it was 



