208 SIGNS AND SEASONS 



had never seen birds do before: they pulled the 

 nest to pieces and rebuilt it in a peach-tree not 

 many rods away, where a brood was successfully 

 reared. The nest was here exposed to the direct 

 rays of the noonday sun, and, to shield her young 

 when the heat was greatest, the mother bird would 

 stand above them with wings slightly spread, as 

 other birds have been known to do under like cir- 

 cumstances. 



To what extent the catbird is a nest-robber I 

 have no evidence; but that feline mew of hers, and 

 that flirting, flexible tail, suggest something not 

 entirely bird-like. 



Probably the darkest tragedy of the nest is 

 enacted when a snake plunders it. All birds and 

 animals, so fa* as I have observed, behave in a 

 peculiar manner toward a snake. They seem to 

 feel something of the same loathing toward it that 

 the human species experience. The bark of a dog 

 when he encounters a snake is different from that 

 which he gives out on any other occasion; it is a 

 mingled note of alarm, inquiry, and disgust. 



One day a tragedy was enacted a few yards from 

 where I was sitting with a book : two song sparrows 

 were trying to defend their nest against a black 

 snake. The curious, interrogating note of a chicken 

 who had suddenly come upon the scene in his walk 

 first caused me to look up from my reading. There 

 were the sparrows, with wings raised in a way 

 peculiarly expressive of horror and dismay, rushing 

 about a low clump of grass and bushes. Then, 



