40 STORIES OF BIRD LIFE 



self into as small a space as possible and with head drawn 

 down close seemed waiting for something to happen. But 

 their eyes were bright as they looked out over the vast 

 expanse of the lawn before them that trackless region, to 

 compass which they dared not yet trust their strength. The 

 other one could not be found. 



The old birds were making no alarm, in fact they were 

 not even in sight, nor have I ever seen them since to my 

 knowledge. Neither during incubation nor while the young 

 were being fed had they ever been noisy about the nest. 

 They approached and left it always in the most quiet man- 

 ner. When the male sang he was ever at a sufficient dis- 

 tance not to attract attention to the home in the balsam. 



After the family had once deserted the nest there was no 

 hope of their ever returning. So, in order to examine it 

 more closely, I removed it from the limb ; I wanted to see 

 how all that wonderful structure was put together. This 

 is what I found: In its building a framework of slender 

 balsam twigs had first been used. There were sixty- 

 three of these, some of which were as much as a foot in 

 length. They served as the sills and studding of the house. 

 Intertwined with them were twenty fragments of weed 

 stalks and large grass stems. The red clay cup, the plaster- 

 ing of the house, which came next inside, varied in thick- 



