98 IN BIRD LAND. 
consulted. I make reference to it here for the first 
time. I was strolling along the banks of a broad 
river in northern Indiana on the first of June, when 
a warm, steady rain set in. How the birds contrive 
to keep their eggs and nestlings dry during a shower 
had long been an enigma to me, and now was my 
time to find out. Knowing where a summer warbler 
had built her nest in some bushes, I cautiously ap- 
proached, and then stood looking down on the bird 
before me, which showed no disposition to leave her 
progeny to the mercy of the elements. It was a 
picture indeed! ‘The darling little mother — how 
can one help using an endearing term !—~sat with 
her wings and tail spread out gracefully over the rim 
of the nest all the way round, thus making a perfect 
umbrella of her lithe, dainty body. 
Nothing could differ more from the airy out-door 
nest of the summer warbler than the dark subter- 
ranean caverns of the swallows in the bank of the 
creek. One day, while sauntering along a stream, I 
noticed a hole in the opposite bank. I passed on, 
but on second thought turned to look at the excava- 
tion a little more closely, when a swallow darted like 
an arrow into it, and in a few moments made as 
quick an exit. Wading across the creek, I thrust 
my walking-stick, which was almost four feet long, 
into the orifice over its entire length without reach- 
ing the end! Why a bird, so neat in attire and so 
agile on the wing, should build her nest in a dark 
Erebus like that, is a Sphinx’s riddle that must be 
left to wiser heads to solve. 
ee een 
