28 A WOODLAND INTIMATE. 



fore I could betray a confidence like this, 

 I must be a more zealous ornithologist or 

 a more unfeeling man, or both at once. 

 Science ought to be encouraged, of course, 

 but not to the outraging of honor and com- 

 mon decency. 



On the following day, after repeating 

 such amenities as I had previously indulged 

 in, I put forth my hand as if to stroke the 

 bird's plumage ; seeing which, she raised 

 her beak threateningly and emitted a very 

 faint deprecatory note, which would have 

 been inaudible at the distance of a few 

 yards. At the same time she opened and 

 shut her bill, not snappishly, but slowly, 

 a nervous action, simply, it seemed to me. 



Twenty-four hours later I called again, 

 and was so favorably received that, besides 

 taking hold of the nest, as before, I brushed 

 her tail feathers softly. Then I put my 

 hand to her head, on which she pecked my 

 finger in an extremely pretty, gentle way, 

 more like kissing than biting, and made 

 use of the low murmuring sounds just now 

 spoken of. Her curiosity was plainly wide 

 awake. She stretched her neck to the ut- 

 most to look under the nest, getting upon 



