NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH 
home of our red-heads. We watched it 
sway, and realizing how the beetles had 
riddled it at the ground, we feared the worst. 
Both birds were in it, and as their doorways 
were toward the west, they faced the full fury 
of the storm. At last a harder blast caused 
it to rock once or twice and then fall. As 
it went over, out flew both parents and one 
young bird. The rain came in torrents, 
and whether the little one was beaten to 
earth or whirled away by the wind and 
killed, I never knew, for we never found 
him. After the storm was over and the 
sun came out for a farewell look at the 
ruin the wind had wrought, the poor wood- 
peckers came back likewise. As if not 
realizing what had happened, they circled 
over and around the spot where the tree 
had stood, always at about the former height 
of their nest. It was as if they still expected 
to find it there and could not understand 
the mystery. On the ground in the broken 
trunk, exposed to full view, lay a nestling 
fully feathered, one just hatched, and the 
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