HIDDEN TREASURE 91 



I hid behind an apple tree and waited nearly half 

 an hour. At last from the woods sounded a low 

 "Cluck, cluck, cluck," and instantly nine little par- 

 tridge chicks, one by one, started up from the most 

 impossible hiding-places. It was like watching a 

 resurrection. Some came from under leaves, others 

 out of clumps of grass, and two or three rose from 

 the almost bare ground, where they had lain in per- 

 fect concealment. Falling into single file, they hur- 

 ried like little ghosts into the thicket, and the last I 

 heard of that little family was a few soft and very 

 satisfied clucks from the hidden mother bird. 



During that golden week of treasure-hunting I 

 found a number of common nests which, although 

 everyday affairs to an experienced ornithologist, 

 were then, as they are now, a source of never-ending 

 interest. There was the robin's nest partly made of 

 wool, which I found in a thorn-bush in the sheep- 

 pasture, with its four long, sky-blue eggs. Over in 

 the woods, just back of the deserted house where 

 Nat Bunker, the Indian, used to weave wonderful 

 baskets out of maiden-hair stems, I found the nest 

 of a wood thrush in a witch-hazel about seven feet 

 from the ground, by the simple process of running 

 my head against the bush while going through the 

 thick undergrowth. This accident bunted the mo- 

 ther thrush off the nest; and pulling the bush down, 

 I peered in and saw three light-blue eggs. 



If I had taken these eggs, as some bird 's-nesters 

 do, I never should have had the experience of actually 

 seeing a little wood thrush come into the world. It 



