314 Perry, Vesper Sparrow and Hermit Thrush. [July 



approached in the usual manner of hopping toward the nest. When 

 he reached the fence, he ran around it looking for an opening. He 

 had to do this several times before he felt positive that he could 

 not get through. He then became alarmed, and disappeared from 

 my view for about twenty-four hours. The female was more 

 determined than the male. It took her two hours before she felt 

 convinced that there was no opening. She then flew over. My 

 day was drawing to an end. So I picked up my camera, pocketed 

 my note book, and went home, feeling confident that I had pro- 

 vided against the danger of further snake enemies, and that the 

 female now knew how to reach her young. 



The next morning when I came to the nest, I found what I feared 

 was a castastrophe. There lay three cold, limp, apparently lifeless 

 birds. I cast aside the fence and entered my tent, heartsick. 

 The nestlings had been starved and unbrooded all the chill night 

 through. In a little while the female came to the nest and in her 

 efficient manner proceeded with the only sane treatment possible. 

 She brooded in a quiet, untiring way for four uninterrupted hours. 

 Finally hunger drove her forth. Then, still feeling guilty, I looked 

 in and found all three nestlings able to move about. By noon 

 they were again keeping the parent busy bringing food, and since 

 the male did not appear all day, it was a double task for her. 



The second family also had a snake visitor that I had to kill. 

 There seems little doubt that many young birds, especially those 

 that live in nests on the ground provide food for snakes. Even 

 after they leave the nest, they are likely to be (attacked. I visited 

 the first nest the day after the nestlings left. I had about decided 

 that there was nothing to see but the chirping parents in the near- 

 by trees, when I heard a screaming "Zee, zee," and saw the parents 

 flying about in distress. Hurrying out, I found a nestling held in a 

 snake's jaw. The snake wriggled away, and the bird lost itself in 

 the grass. I felt that the snake would come back. So I waited 

 until I again heard the call. This time I succeeded in killing the 

 snake and in capturing the bird. It had a jagged tear on its thigh 

 where the snake's teeth had held it. I put it in the nest, but it 

 would not stay. 



The objects of all this parental care and of much of my interest 

 were hatched blind and entirely naked, with the exception of a row 

 of short down feathers extending from the crown of the head to the 



