152 MATESHIP WITH BIRDS 



Evidently the Whistlers do not take long to build 

 a nest, for within eight days the birds were at 

 home on a bushy stump less than 100 yards from 

 the site of the Babblers' nest. The new nursery 

 contained two beautiful eggs soft-cream, spotted 

 with blue and sienna. I was able to photograph the 

 nest and sunlit eggs, but the owners could not be 

 persuaded to return while the camera was in posi- 

 tion. Timid little creatures at any time, their faith 

 in human nature had evidently been badly shaken by 

 rough experiences. 



It was worth while, however, to spend many hours 

 in the vicinity, if only to hear the airy wood-music 

 of the birds. The call most frequently used was a 

 ventriloquial "Chu p, chu p," which seems to roll 

 softly off the chest and swell powerfully as it leaves 

 the beak. So faintly does this chant commence that 

 you may imagine it to be coming from one hundred 

 yards away, until, as the sound gathers rapidly in 

 volume, the author is located close at hand. Here 

 again, as in solicitude for the home, the Whistler 

 shows its kinship with the Shrike-Robin; for this 

 call is distinctly reminiscent of the vesper hymn of 

 the familiar Psalmist of the Dawn. 



A third egg was duly added in the second home, 

 and housekeeping proceeded smoothly for a period 

 that was, alas, only too short. On 12th October one 

 of the trio of eggs was gone, the other two were 

 cold, the horse-hair lining of the nest was ruffled, 

 and the birds were calling in melodious pain two 

 hundred yards away. They came no more to that 

 nest, but clung with resolute loyalty to the chosen 



