THE CAT-BIRD 



curves by the river, on the near bank of which was the power 

 house. Below the house and oil-tanks was a grassy old orchard 

 running down to the water. Across the river was a deep wood, 

 with great pools frequented by Bittern and Heron; tangles of 

 underbrush, and forest trees of the height and size selected by 

 Hawks and Crows. Where could be found another such Paradise 

 for birds? 



Bob did have forty nests located, and he had not worked very 

 hard to do it. That day was spent in taking an inventory of 

 them, going into ecstasies over their beauty, and trying to decide, 

 by the condition of the nest and the bushes about, on which to 

 work first, until we reached the nest of the Cat -bird and there 

 I stopped, lost in admiration. Without a word Bob leaped the 

 old snake fence, crossed the orchard and started for a camera. 



The nest was in a red haw thicket in a corner of the fence 

 separating the orchard from the meadow. It was low enough 

 to take from a tripod, there was no obstruction to prevent my 

 setting it just where it should be placed and the light was fine. 

 Photographic conditions could scarcely have been bettered in 

 field work, and it was imperative to record the nest at once be- 

 cause browsing cattle, angered by flies, might run into the bushes 

 and destroy it any hour. 



The fence was a lichen-covered, linty, picturesque old affair; 

 the bushes were young and newly leaved in rare shades of golden 

 green; beautiful vines clambered everywhere, and moss, ferns 

 and wild flowers grew beneath. The nest was built of fine twigs 

 such as were thick underfoot in the fence corners ; but somewhere 

 in the fields about the Cat-birds had found a finely-shredded corn- 

 husk, or one so old that they could shred it themselves, for the 

 nest was lined with this material, bleached almost white. There 



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