100 IN BIRD LAND, 
‘would you like to see it?” ‘Tired out as I was 
with my long walk, 1 exclaimed: 4éwWes, sin) il 
follow you to the end of the world to see a plover’s 
nest.”” The sentence was added merely by way of 
mild (not wild) hyperbole. <A shallow pit in the 
open corn-field, lined with a few chips and pebbles, 
constituted the nest of the plover, not having so 
much as a spear of grass to protect it from rain and 
storm. It contained one egg and acallow youngster, 
the egg being quite large at one end and pointed at 
the other, which gave it a very uncouth shape. My 
young friend informed me that there had been five 
eggs when he found the nest, al] lying with their 
acute ends toward the centre; the next time he 
went to look there were only four, then three, and 
finally only two. Evidently the parent birds were 
having a serious time guarding their homestead from 
marauders. On going to the place some days later, 
I found both the egg and the baby plover gone, and 
I could only hope that no mischance had befallen 
them. 
Strange as it may seem, the winter is a favorable 
eason for nest-hunting. True, the birds are not 
then at home, to speak with a good deal of license, 
or engaged in rearing families; but the deserted 
structures may be more readily found after the 
leaves have fallen from the trees and bushes. As I 
stroll through the woods or the marsh on a winter 
day, scores of nests that escaped my eye during the 
summer are to be seen. Especially is this the case 
after a snowfall, for the nests catch the descending 
