THE CAT-BIRD 



of them, going into ecstasies over their beauty, trying to decide, 

 by the condition of the nest and the bushes around, on which to 

 work first, until we reached the nest of the Cat-bird there I 

 stopped, charmed with its beauty. Without a word Bob leaped 

 the old snake fence, crossing the orchard to bring the camera. 



The nest was in a red haw thicket in a corner of the fence 

 separating the orchard from the meadow. It was low enough to 

 take from a tripod, there was no obstruction to prevent my set- 

 ting it exactly where it should be placed, while the light was fine. 

 Photographic conditions could scarcely have been bettered in 

 field work. It was imperative to record the nest at once be- 

 cause browsing cattle, angered by flies, might run into the bushes, 

 destroying it any hour. 



The fence was a lichen-covered, linty, picturesque old affair; 

 the bushes were young and newly leaved in rare shades of golden 

 green; beautiful vines clambered everywhere, while moss, ferns 

 and wild flowers grew beneath. The nest was built of fine twigs 

 such as were numerous underfoot in the fence corners; but some- 

 where in the fields the Cat-birds had found a finely shredded 

 corn-husk, or one so old that they could shred it themselves, for 

 the nest was lined with this material, bleached almost white. 

 There was some dry grass also, while the eggs were that ex- 

 quisite deep blue-green of this species. That was the picture. 

 No wonder Bob hurried for the camera! Of all the forty nests 

 into which we had gazed with reverent wonder that morning, not 

 pendent purse of Oriole, cobweb-decorated cup of Vireo, living 

 green arch of Lark, or flat bowl of Quail had been so beautiful as 

 this. 



Of course it could not wait, so I made two exposures to be sure. 

 Then overtures to the Cat-birds began by sprinkling cracker 

 crumbs, of which they are very fond, on the top rail of the fence. 

 The mother bird proved why she was named by keeping up a 



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