68 WAKE-ROBIN 



of its companion, though obviously both are of the 

 same age, not more than a day old. Ah! I see; 

 the old trick of the cow bunting, with a stinging 

 human significance. Taking the interloper by the 

 nape of the neck, I deliberately drop it into the 

 water, but not without a pang, as I see its naked 

 form, convulsed with chills, float down stream. 

 Cruel? So is Nature cruel. I take one life to 

 save two. In less than two days this pot-bellied 

 intruder would have caused the death of the two 

 rightful occupants of the nest; so I step in and 

 turn things into their proper channel again. 



It is a singular freak of nature, this instinct 

 which prompts one bird to lay its eggs in the nests 

 of others, and thus shirk the responsibility of rear- 

 ing its own young. The cow buntings always re- 

 sort to this cunning trick; and when one reflects 

 upon their numbers it is evident that these little 

 tragedies are quite frequent. In Europe the paral- 

 lel case is that of the cuckoo, and occasionally our 

 own cuckoo imposes upon a robin or a thrush in 

 the same manner. The cow bunting seems to have 

 no conscience about the matter, and, so far as I 

 have observed, invariably selects the nest of a bird 

 smaller than itself. Its egg is usually the first to 

 hatch; its young overreaches all the rest when food 

 is brought; it grows with great rapidity, spreads 

 and fills the nest, and the starved and crowded 

 occupants soon perish, when the parent bird removes 

 their dead bodies, giving its whole energy and care 

 to the foster-child. 



