76 THE TRAGEDIES OF THE NESTS. 



again beyond the reach of owl's talons or jay-bird's 

 beak. 



The first song-sparrow's nest I observed in the 

 spring of 1881 was in a field under a fragment of a 

 board, the board being raised from the ground a 

 couple of inches by two poles. It had its full com- 

 plement of eggs, and probably sent forth a brood of 

 young birds, though as to this I cannot speak posi- 

 tively, as I neglected to observe it further. It was well 

 sheltered and concealed, and was not easily come at 

 by any of its natural enemies, save snakes and weasels. 

 But concealment often avails little. In May, a song- 

 sparrow, that had evidently met with disaster earlier 

 in the season, built its nest in a thick mass of wood- 

 bine against the side of my house, about fifteen feet 

 from the ground. Perhaps it took the hint from its 

 cousin, the English sparrow. The nest was admira- 

 bly placed, protected from the storms by the over- 

 hanging eaves and from all eyes by the thick screen 

 of leaves. Only by patiently watching the suspicious 

 bird, as she lingered near with food in her beak, did 

 I discover its whereabouts. That brood is safe, I 

 thought, beyond doubt. But it was not : the nest 

 was pillaged one night, either by an owl, or else by a 

 rat that had climbed into the vine, seeking an en- 

 trance to the house. The mother-bird, after reflect- 

 ing upon her ill-luck about a week, seemed to resolve 

 to try a different system of tactics and to throw all 

 appearances of concealment aside. She built a nest 

 a few yards from the house beside the drive, upon a 



