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STORIES OF BIRD LIFE 



decayed from the top downward for three or four feet, 

 leaving a solid rim of wood on the outside. In this hollow 

 the wood duck had made her nest. She had come that 

 morning to lay an egg, and while thus occupied her mate 

 had gallantly waited to escort her back to the lake. Climb- 

 ing up I found four eggs lying in a soft bed of feathers 



which the female had 

 plucked from her body 

 to make the nest soft 

 and warm. 



The following after- 

 noon I went with a 

 friend to look at my 

 new-found treasures 

 in the wilderness. 

 Upon coming in sight 

 of the nesting snag, 

 great was our disgust 

 to find that old rascal, the crow, standing on a stump close 

 by eating one of the duck eggs. We rushed at him with 

 rough words, brandishing clubs and threatening to exter- 

 minate his race. The black rogue retired to the limb of a 

 tree and wiped his bill on the bark with the most diabolical 

 unconcern. He could see that we had no gun and so was 

 in no hurry to leave. The shrewd bird certainly guessed 



