250 FIELD AND HEDGEROW. 



BIRDS' NESTS, 



* Perfectly lovely ! ' ' Such pretty colours ! ' 'So 

 neat ; isn't It wonderful how the little things do it with 

 their beaks ? ' ' The colours are so arranged as to con- 

 ceal it ; the instinct is marvellous ; ' and so on. These 

 comments were passed on a picture of a bird's nest — 

 rather a favourite subject with amateur painters. The 

 nest was represented among grass, and was tilted aside 

 so as to exhibit the eggs, which would have rolled out 

 had they been real. It was composed of bright-green 

 moss with flowers intertwined, and tall bluebells, rising 

 out of the grass, overhung it. Nothing could be more 

 poetical. In reality, the flowers — if ever actually used 

 by a bird — would have faded in a day, and the moss 

 would never have had so brilliant and metallic a tint. 

 The painter had selected the loveliest colours of the mead 

 and gathered them into a bouquet, with the nest in the 

 centre. This is not exactly like nature : a robin's nest 

 for instance, the other day was discovered in an old 

 shoe, discarded by a tramp and thrown over the wall 

 into the shrubbery. Nests are not always made where 

 flowers grow thickest, and birds have the oddest way of 

 placing them — a way which quite defeats rational 

 search. After looking into every nook, and places where 

 if built a nest would be hidden from passers-by, sud- 

 denly it is found right in front of you and open to view. 

 You have attributed so much cunning to the bird that 



