THE TRAGEDIES OF THE NESTS 71 



ornamental trees near a large unoccupied house. 

 They sat down amid plenty. The wolf established 

 himself in the fold. The many birds — robins, 

 thrushes, finches, vireos, pewees — that seek the 

 vicinity of dwellings (especially of these large coun- 

 try residences with their many trees and park-like 

 grounds), for the greater safety of their eggs and 

 young, were the easy and convenient victims of 

 these robbers. They plundered right and left, and 

 were not disturbed till their young were nearly 

 fledged, when some boys, who had long before 

 marked them as their prize, rifled the nest. 



The song-birds nearly all build low; their cradle 

 is not upon the treetop. It is only birds of prey 

 that fear danger from below more than from above, 

 and that seek the higher branches for their nests. 

 A line five feet from the ground would run above 

 more than half the nests, and one ten feet would 

 bound more than three fourths of them. It is only 

 the oriole, the wood pewee, the tanager, the war- 

 bling vireo, and two or three warblers, that, as a 

 rule, go higher than this. The crows and jays and 

 other enemies of the birds have learned to explore 

 this belt pretty thoroughly. But the leaves and 

 the protective coloring of most nests baffle them as 

 effectually, no doubt, as they do the professional 

 oologist. The nest of the red-eyed vireo is one of 

 the most artfully placed in the wood. It is just 

 beyond the point where the eye naturally pauses in 

 its search; namely, on the extreme end of the 

 lowest branch of the tree, usually four or five feet 



