AN IDEAL NOOK. 161 



by the Path Difficult, up to the world above. 

 The seat, across the court from the nest, had 

 plainly been arranged by some kind fate on 

 purpose for us. It was the trunk of a tree, 

 which in falling failed to quite reach the 

 ground, and so had bleached and dried, and it 

 was shaded and screened from observation by 

 vigorous saplings which had sprung up about 

 it. The whole was indeed an ideal nook, well 

 worthy to be named after its distinguished resi- 

 dents. 



Thoreau was right in his assertion that one 

 may see all the birds of a neighborhood by sim- 

 ply waiting patiently in one place, and into that 

 charming spot came " sooner or later " every 

 bird I had seen in my wanderings up and down 

 the ravine. There sang the scarlet tanager 

 every morning through July, gleaming among 

 the leaves of the tallest trees, his olive-clad 

 spouse nowhere to be seen, presumably occupied 

 with domestic affairs. There the Acadian fly- 

 catcher pursued his calling, fluttering his wings 

 and uttering a sweet little murmur when he 

 alighted. Into that retired corner came the 

 cries of flicker and blue jay from the high 

 ground beyond. On the edge sang the indigo- 

 bird and the wood-pewee, and cardinal and 

 wood-thrush song formed the chorus to all the 

 varied notes that we heard. 



