THE SUMMIT OF THE YEARS 



habits of nest-building of her species, who can tell? 

 I had never before seen a junco's nest except on the 

 ground in remote fields, or in mossy banks by the 

 side of mountain roads. This nest is the finest to 

 be found upon the ground, its usual lining of 

 horsehair makes its interior especially smooth and 

 shapely, and the nest in the haymow showed only a 

 little f alling-off, as is usually the case in the second 

 nest of the season. The songs of the birds, the con- 

 struction of then* nests, and the number of their eggs 

 taper off as the season wanes. 



The junco impresses me as a fidgety, emphatic, 

 feather-edged sort of bird; the two white quills in 

 its tail which flash out so suddenly on every move- 

 ment seem to stamp in this impression. My junco 

 was a little nervous at first and showed her white 

 quills, but she soon grew used to my presence, and 

 would alight upon the chair which I kept for callers, 

 and upon my hammock-ropes. 



When an artist came to paint my portrait amid 

 such rustic surroundings, the bird only eyed her a 

 little suspiciously at first, and then went forward 

 with her own affairs. One night the wind blew the 

 easel with its canvas over against the haymow where 

 the nest was placed, but the bird was there on her 

 eggs in the morning. Her wild instincts did not 

 desert her in one respect, at least: when I would 

 flush her from the nest she would drop down to the 

 floor and with spread plumage and fluttering move- 

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