THE ORCHARD. 259 



sort of pie, or prepared in other ways, before they are 

 palatable. An "apple bee" was different from a "corn 

 husking," in that the women could more generally take 

 part; but it was like one in that it usually wound up 

 with a dance or the Virginia reel. It was always seen 

 to it that a fiddler was among those asked to attend. 

 "Bobbing" for apples in a tub of water was a sport 

 for Hallowe'en. 



The orchard is a great place for the birds in the 

 spring. I see little gleams of yellow, and blue, and 

 red, with glimpses of the more somber brown, dart 

 from tree to tree and flit among the branches. It seems 

 to be the favorite home of the yellow-breasted chat, 

 as he talks away at us or cooes and warbles from among 

 his leafy coverts. The robin also homesteads among 

 its crotches. The bluebird makes her nest in a hollow 

 limb; or enters by some knot-hole into the dim fast- 

 nesses of the trunk, and there rears her young. Orioles 

 hang their abodes from the tips of the branches. The 

 little chickadees peep about in their endless search 

 up and down the bark and about the sprays. Wood- 

 peckers tap the trees with their bills, and some old 

 orchards are literally riddled and tattooed from head 

 to foot with the bullet-like perforations of their drill- 

 ing. Perhaps a dove will construct her simple dwell- 

 ing on a bough, and we shall hear the mournful gurgle 

 of her mate while they select their site. From every- 

 where, from every tree, and oftentimes apparently from 

 nearly every bough, comes the tireless and incessant 

 love-fluting of the birds. And not only while mating, 

 but also during nesting time, while the female sits on 

 the nest, does that speckled beauty, the wood thrush, 



