A BARN-DOOR OUTLOOK 



ments seek for a moment to decoy me away from 

 the nest, after the habit of most ground-builders. 

 The male came about the barn frequently with 

 three or four other juncos, which I suspect were the 

 first or June brood of the pair, now able to take care 

 of themselves, but still held together by the family 

 instinct, as often happens in the case of some other 

 birds, such as bluebirds and chickadees. 



My little mascot hatched all her eggs, and all 

 went well with mother and young until, during my 

 absence of three or four days, some night-prowler, 

 probably a rat, plundered the nest, and the little 

 summer idyl in the heart of the old barn abruptly 

 ended. I saw the juncos no more. 



While I was so closely associated with the junco 

 in the old barn I had a good chance to observe her 

 incubating habits. I was surprised at the frequent 

 and long recesses that she took during school-hours. 

 Every hour during the warmest days she was off 

 from ten to twelve minutes, either to take the air or 

 to take a bite, or to let up on the temperature of her 

 eggs, or to have a word with her other family; I am 

 at a loss to know which. Toward the end of her 

 term, which was twelve days, and as the days grew 

 cooler, she was not gadding out and in so often, but 

 kept her place three or four hours at a time. 



When the young were hatched they seemed 

 mainly fed with insects spiders or flies gathered 

 off the timbers and clapboards of the inside of the 

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