54 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY. 
Such trays should all be of the same depth, Mf an inch is a convenient depth for general 
purposes; and of assorted sizes, say from one inch by one and one half inches up to three by 
six inches; it is convenient to have the dimensions regularly graduated by a constant factor 
of, say half an inch, so that the little boxes may be set side by side, either lengthwise or 
crosswise, without inierference. Eggs may also be kept safely, advantageously, and with 
attractive effect, in the nests themselves, in which a fluff of cotton may be placed to steady 
them. When not too bulky, too loosely constructed, or of material unsuitable for preservation, 
nests shovdd always be collected.t_ Those that are very closely attached to twigs should not be 
torn off. Nests threatening to come to pieces, or too frail to be handled without injury, may 
be secured by sewing through and through with fine thread: indeed, this is an advisable pre- 
caution in most eases. Packing eggs for transportation requires much care, but the precau- 
tions to be taken are obvious. I will only remark that there is no safer way than to leave them 
in their own nests, each wrapped in cotton, with which the whole cavity is to be lightly filled ; 
the nests themselves being packed close enough to be perfectly steady. 
§ 10.—CARE OF A COLLECTION. 
Well Preserved Specimens will last ‘‘ forever and a day,” so far as natural decay is 
concerned. I have handled birds in good state, shot back in the twenties, and have no doubt 
that some eighteenth century preparations are still extant. The precautions against detilement, 
mutilation, or other mechanical injury, are self-evident, and may be dismissed with the remark, 
that white plumages, especially if at all greasy, require the most care to guard against soiling. 
We have, however, to fight for our possessions against a host of enemies, individually despica- 
ble but collectively formidable, — foes so determined that untirig vigilance is required to ward 
off their attacks even temporarily, whilst in the end they prove invincible. It may be said that 
to be eaten up by insects is the natural end of all bird-skins not sooner destroyed. 
1 * 4 Plea for the Study of Nests,” made by Mr. Ernest Ingersoll in his excellent “ Birds’-Nesting,” suits 
me so well that I will transcribe it. ‘‘ Whether or not it is worth while to collect nests—for there are many per- 
sons who never do so —is, it seems to me, only a question of room in the cabinet. As a scientific study there is far 
more adyantage to be obtained from a series of nests than from a series of eggs. The nest is something with which 
the will and energies of the bird are concerned. It expresses the character of the workman; is to a certain extent 
an index of its rank among birds, — for in general those of the highest organization are the best architects, — and 
give us a glimpse of the bird’s mind and power to understand and adapt itself to changed conditions of life. Over 
the shape and ornamentation of an egg the bird has no control, being no more able to govern the matter than it 
can the growth of its beak. There is as much difference to me, in the interest inspired, between the nest and the 
egg of a bird, as between its brain and its skull, —using the word brain to mean the seat of intellect. The nest is 
always more or less the result of conscious planning and intelligent work, even though it does follow a hereditary 
habit in its style; while the egg is an automatic production varying, if at all, only as the whole organization of 
the bird undergoes change. Don’t neglect the nests then. In them more than anywhere else lies the key to the 
mind and thoughts of a bird, —the spirit which inhabits that beautiful frame and bubbles out of that golden 
mouth. And is it not this inner life, —this human significance in bird nature,—this soul of ornithology, that we 
are all aiming to discover? Nests are beautlful, too. What can surpass the delicacy of the hamming-bird’s home 
glued to the surface of a mossy branch or nestling in the warped point of a pendent leaf; the vireo’s silken ham- 
mock; the oriole’s gracefully swaying purse; the blackbird’s model basket in the flags; the snug little caves of the 
marsh wrens; the hermitage-huts of the shy wagtails and ground-warblers, the stout fortresses of the sociable 
swallows! Moreover, there is much that is highly interesting which remains to be learned about nests, and which 
can only be known by paying close attention to these artistic masterpieces of animal art. We want to know by 
what sort of skill the many nests are woven together that we find it so hard even to disentangle; we want to know 
how long they are in being built; whether there is any particular choice in respect to location; whether it be a 
rule, as is supposed, that the female bird is the architect, to the exclusion of her mate’s efforts further than his 
supplying a part of the materials. Many such points remain to be cleared up. Then there is the question of 
variation, and its extent in the architect of the same species in different quarters of its ranging area. How far is 
this carried, and how many varieties can be recorded from a single district, where the same list of materials is 
open to all the birds equally? Variation shows individual opinion or taste araong the builders as to the suitability 
of this or that sort of timber or furniture for their dwellings, and observations upon it thus increase our acquaint- 
ance with the scope of ideas and habits characteristic of each species of bird.”’ 
ote atlas 
