96 THE WILES OF A WARBLER 



hopping daintily from step to step of the 

 ladder left by fallen branches. Round and 

 round the trunk she went, now this side, now 

 that, tail wide spread and showing the great 

 yellow patch upon the brown, her tiny body 

 all life and animation and never pausing for 

 one second. 



Suddenly there burst out on one side a 

 perfect fusillade of " smacks " delivered with 

 an energy that instantly aroused me, and I 

 turned hastily. There on a battered old tree, 

 one of the outposts of the woods, appeared 

 a very much excited individual about as big 

 as one's thumb. She was hopping in jerky 

 warbler fashion over the lower branches and 

 evidently addressing me, protesting anxiously, 

 no doubt, against my presence in her vicinity. 

 While I looked, noticing the yellow throat 

 and breast, and trying to get further indi- 

 cations of her identity, she slipped behind 

 a tuft of moss and was silent. 



" Ah, a nest ! " I thought, and she must 

 be that moss-loving warbler, the parula, per- 

 haps the mate of the one I had seen. 



Redstart affairs faded into insignificance. 

 I could see redstarts any day. I turned my 



