THE RINGDOVE. 149 
ingly put together, that theeggs are easily seen 
through it by an eye habituated to look for them. 
On inspecting this apparent commencement or rem- 
nant of a nest, one is led to surmise, at the first 
glance, that the young are necessarily exposed to 
many a cold and bitter blast during the spring of 
this ever-changing climate. “ But God tempers the 
wind,” said Maria, “to the shorn lamb;” and in 
the case before us, instinct teaches the parent bird 
to sit upon its offspring for a longer period after 
they are hatched than, perhaps, any other of the 
feathered tribe. In the mean time, the droppings 
of the young, which the old birds of some species 
carefully convey away, are allowed to remain in the 
nest of the ringdove. They soon form a kind of 
plaster strong and scentless. This adds consistency 
to the nest, producing, at the same time, a defence 
against the cold. The ornithologist, while going 
his autumnal beats, in quest of knowledge, on seeing 
this, will know immediately that the nest has con- 
tained young: should this be wanting, he may con- 
clude that the nest has been abandoned at an early 
period. As he will find but very few nests with 
this species of plaster in them, he may conclude, to 
a certainty, that the ringdove has a host of enemies 
in this country, and that it is seldom fortunate 
enough to rear its young to that state in which the 
faculty of flying saves them from destruction. 
No bird in the British dominions seems to resort 
to so many trees and shrubs for the purpose of incu= 
bation as the ringdove. Not a tree, from the tow- 
ering pine to the lowly thorn, ever comes amiss to 
L 3 
SSS eee 
