298 RIVERBY 



two seconds, through an opening in the trees, but 

 it was long enough for my eye to take in the whole 

 situation: the gray wall of rock, the flitting form 

 of the bird and the half-finished nest into which 

 the builder settled. Yesterday, May 7, I went out 

 for an hour's walk looking for birds' nests. I made 

 a tour of some orchards, pastures, and meadows, but 

 found nothing, and then came home and found a 

 blue jay's nest by my very door. How did I find 

 it? In the first place my mind was intent upon 

 nest finding: I was ripe for a bird's nest. In the 

 second place I had for some time suspected that a 

 pair of jays were nesting or intending to nest in 

 some of the evergreens about my house; a pair had 

 been quite familiar about the premises for some 

 weeks, and I had seen the male feed the female, al- 

 ways a sure sign that the birds are mated, and are 

 building or ready to build. Many birds do this. 

 I have even seen the crow feed its mate in April. 

 Just at this writing, a pair of chickadees attracted 

 my attention in a spruce-tree in front of my win- 

 dow. One of them, of course the male, is industri- 

 ously feeding the other. The female hops about, 

 imitating the voice and manner of a young bird, her 

 wings quivering, her cry plaintive, while the male 

 is very busy collecting some sort of fine food out of 

 the just bursting buds of the tree. Every half min- 

 ute or so he approaches her and delivers his morsel 

 into her beak. I should know from this fact alone 

 that the birds have a nest near by. The truth is, 

 it is just on the other side of the study in a small 



