80 IN THE HEMLOCKS. 



is the speckled Canada warbler. I find no 

 authority in the books for this bird to build 

 upon the ground, yet here is the nest, made 

 chiefly of dry grass, set in a slight excava- 

 tion in the bank, not two feet from the wa- 

 ter, and looking a little perilous to anything 

 but ducklings or sandpipers. There are two 

 young birds and one little speckled egg, just 

 pipped. But how is this ? What mystery 

 is here ? One nestling is much larger than 

 the other, monopolizes most of the nest, and 

 lifts its open mouth far above that of its 

 companion, though obviously both are of the 

 same age, not more than a day old. Ah ! I 

 see ; the old trick of the cow-bunting, with a 

 stinging human significance. Taking the 

 interloper by the nape of the neck, I deliber- 

 ately drop it into the water, but not without 

 a pang, as I see its naked form, convulsed 

 with chills, float down stream. Cruel ? So 

 is Nature cruel. I take one life to save 

 two. In less than two days this pot-bellied 

 intruder would have caused the death of the 

 two rightful occupants of the nest ; so I step 

 in and turn things into their proper channel 

 again. 



It is a singular freak of Nature, this in- 

 stinct which prompts one bird to lay its eggs 



