92 A BIRD'S-NEST HUNTER. 



Not far beyond the yellow-throats' brook, 

 and almost directly under one of the pewees' 

 oaks, was a nest which pretty certainly 

 had belonged to a pair of chewinks, but 

 which was already forsaken when I found 

 it, though I had then no inkling of the fact. 

 It contained four eggs, and everything was 

 in perfect order. The mother had gone 

 away, and had never come back ; having 

 fallen a victim, probably, to some collec- 

 tor, human or inhuman. The tragedy was 

 peculiar ; and the tragical effect of it was 

 heightened as day after day, for nearly a 

 fortnight at least (I cannot say for how 

 much longer), the beautiful eggs lay there 

 entirely uncovered, and yet no skunk, squir- 

 rel, or other devourer of such dainties hap- 

 pened to spy them. It seemed doubly 

 sad that so many precious nests should be 

 robbed, while this set of worthless eggs was 

 left to spoil. 



I have already mentioned the housekeep- 

 ing of a couple of chickadees in a low birch 

 stump. Theirs was one of three titmouse 

 nests just then claiming my attention. I 

 visited it frequently, from the time when 

 the pair were hard at work making the 



