196 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



been sitting- under that very morning! The 

 female seated herself on top of the oak, watching 

 me with raised crest, while her mate disappeared 

 in a dark mat of leaves, probably mistletoe, where 

 he stayed so long that the possibility of a nest 

 waxed to a probability, and I made a rapid but 

 ecstatic ascent to the observer's seventh heaven. A 

 phainopepla's nest right on my own doorsill ! I 

 could hardly restrain my impatience, and was 

 tempted to shoo the birds away so I could go to 

 the nest ; when suddenly they opened their wings 

 and, crossing the valley, disappeared up a side 

 canyon ! Pulling myself together and reflecting 

 that I might have known better than to imagine 

 there would be a nest so near home, I took up my 

 camp-stool and trudged back to the house. 



After that came a number of tantalizing hints. 

 When watching the third gnatcatcher's nest I 

 had seen a pair of phainopeplas flying sugges- 

 tively back and forth from the brush to the vari- 

 ous oaks, and thought the handsome lover fed 

 his mate as his relative the gentle high-bred wax- 

 wing does. Surely the wooing of these beautiful 

 birds should be carried on with no less fine feel- 

 ing, courtesy, and tenderness ; and so it seems to 

 be. The black knight flew low over my head 

 slowly, as if inspecting me, and then came again 

 with his lady, as if having said, "Dear one, I 

 would consult you upon this impending danger." 



After that, something really delightful came 



