Trouble Among the Birds 159 



nests were robbed, those of the Kentucky and hooded 

 warblers of their young, and that of the creeping warbler 

 of its eggs. I trust I am not naturally vindictive; but 

 had I the brigands in my power who despoiled those 

 nests, I certainly should wring their necks. 



Our small birds must ever be on the qm vive. Danger 

 is always lurking near, as a few concrete cases will show. 

 Brush was thrown into a certain hollow well known to 

 the writer, and one of the steep hillsides was covered 

 with timber of a medium-sized growth. One day I was 

 listening to a concert given by a company of towhees and 

 cardinals, which were sitting in the trees at the lower 

 border of the woodland. A flock of cedar waxwings 

 were also "tseeming" in the top of a tree, darting out at 

 intervals into the air for insects. Suddenly every song 

 ceased, and the whole company dashed down, pellmell, 

 hurry-skurry, into the thick brush heaps of the hollow. 

 At the same moment, or perhaps a moment later ;t 

 all occurred so quickly I could not be exact a covey 

 of juncos hurled themselves with reckless swiftness into 

 the brush pile, followed by a sparrow hawk, which uttered 

 a queer, uncanny call that meant death to any little bird 

 that should be overtaken. 



He flung himself through a network of branches and 

 twigs and lightly struck the ground below, his wings 

 partly opening as he lit, to break the force of the concus- 

 sion. He had dashed directly over my head. Before 

 I could collect my wits he gathered himself together, 

 wormed his way out through the branches in some way, 

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