204 SIGNS AND SEASONS 



The life of birds is beset with dangers and mis- 

 haps of which we know little. One day, in my 

 walk, I came upon a goldfinch with the tip of one 

 wing securely fastened to the feathers of its rump 

 by what appeared to be the silk of some caterpillar. 

 The bird, though uninjured, was completely crip- 

 pled, and could not fly a stroke. Its little body 

 was hot and panting in my hands, as I carefully 

 broke the fetter. Then it darted swiftly away with 

 a happy cry. A record of all the accidents and 

 tragedies of bird life for a single season would show 

 many curious incidents. A friend of mine opened 

 his box stove one fall to kindle a fire in it, when 

 he beheld in the black interior the desiccated forms 

 of two bluebirds. The birds had probably taken 

 refuge in the chimney during some cold spring 

 storm, and had come down the pipe to the stove, 

 from whence they were unable to ascend. A pecu- 

 liarly touching little incident of bird life occurred 

 to a caged female canary. Though unmated, it laid 

 some eggs, and the happy bird was so carried away 

 by her feelings that she would offer food to the 

 eggs, and chatter and twitter, trying, as it seemed, 

 to encourage them to eat! The incident is hardly 

 tragic, neither is it comic. 



Certain birds nest in the vicinity of our houses 

 and outbuildings, or even in and upon them, for 

 protection from their enemies, but they often thus 

 expose themselves to a plague of the most deadly 

 character. 



I refer to the vermin with which their nests 



