78 A BIRD'8-NEST HUNTER. 



as the first agony was past, the one who 

 had been sitting was not so entirely over- 

 come as not to be able to relish an occa- 

 sional insect, which she snatched here and 

 there between her vituperative exclama- 

 tions. Faithful and hungry little mother ! 

 her heart was not broken, let us hope, when 

 within a week or so some miscreant, to me 

 unknown, ravaged her house and left it 

 desolate. 



Not many rods from the vireos' cedar- 

 tree was a brown thrasher's nest in a bar- 

 berry bush. It had an exceedingly dilapi- 

 dated, year-old appearance, and I went by 

 it several times without thinking it worth 

 looking at, till I accidentally observed the 

 bird upon it. She did not budge till I was 

 within a few feet of her, when she tumbled 

 to the ground, and limped away with loud 

 cries. Perceiving that this worn-out ruse 

 did not avail, she turned upon me, and ac- 

 tually seemed about to make an attack. 

 How she did rave ! I thought that I had 

 never seen a bird so beside herself with 

 anger. 



Shortly after my encounter with this irate 

 thrush I nearly stepped upon one of her 



