Nesting Time, 



wonderful little homes. The cypress is 

 a favorite tree in which to build, al- 

 though I have found their nests in 

 many other trees and occasionally even 

 in tall bushes. The cradle is built with 

 infinite pains out of feathery seeds, bits 

 of bark or shreds of silk from cocoons, 

 fastened together with cobwebs and 

 with a soft felt lining of milkweed 

 seeds or similar material. Upon the 

 outside are placed bits of green moss 

 and lichens, making the nest, when com- 

 pleted, practically invisible even when in 

 full view. Both parents labor upon the 

 home, making innumerable visits to the 

 spot with the bits of fuzzy material 

 that ate so skilfully used in its con- 

 struction. Two white eggs are pres- 

 ently laid in the nest and tended with 

 anxious care. When the young are 

 hatched the little mites just fill the 

 basket, and, as they grow, the pliable 

 walls are stretched to contain them. It 

 is a pretty sight, this of the mother 

 hummer with her two tiny babies, and 

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