I could not find the nest ; so returning the 

 next day, I crept under cover to the foot of the 

 hill, and, ascending stealthily, saw the hen as she 

 slipped from the home tree. She melted away 

 among the dark pines like a shadow, but reap- 

 peared immediately with her mate to head me 

 off again. Not this time, however, for I had 

 their secret. My eye was upon the nest. It 

 was a loose, rough affair of coarse sticks, fixed 

 upon two dead branches well up against a slen- 

 der pine's trunk. I could see patches of light 

 sky through it, it was such a botch. But where 

 art failed nature perfected. I saw the sky 

 through the bungled structure, but not the eggs. 

 I had to climb to see them, for they were so 

 washed with shadowy green that they blended 

 perfectly with the color of the nest and the sub- 

 dued light of the pines. 



After my adventure with the jays I had an 

 interesting experience with a pair of tiny birds 

 in the sand-bank on the north side of Lupton's 

 Pond. 



The country immediately surrounding the 

 pond is exceedingly varied and full of life. 

 The high, level farm-lands break off into sand- 

 [195] 



