62 IN THE HEMLOCKS. 



not three feel from my head, as I stoop down, and, as 

 if severely lamed or injured, flutters through the grass 

 and into the nearest bush. As I do not follow, but 

 remain near the nest, she chips sharply, which brings 

 the male, and I see it is the speckled Canada warbler. 

 I find no authority in the books for this bird to build 

 upon the ground, yet here is the nest, made chiefly of 

 dry grass, set in a slight excavation in the bank, not 

 two feet from the water, and looking a little perilous to 

 anything but ducklings or sandpipers. There are two 

 young birds and one little specked egg, just pipped. 

 But how is this ? what mystery is here ? One nestling 

 is much larger than the other, monopolizes most of 

 the nest, and lifts its open mouth far above that of its 

 companion, though obviously both are of the same 

 age, not more than a day old. Ah ! I see ; the old 

 trick of the cow-bunting, with a stinging human sig- 

 nificance. Taking the interloper by the nape of the 

 neck, I deliberately drop it into the water, but not 

 without a pang, as I see its naked form, convulsed with 

 chills, float down stream. Cruel ? So is Nature cruel. 

 I take one life to save two. In less than two days 

 this pot-bellied intruder would have caused the death 

 of the two rightful occupants of the nest ; so I step 

 in and turn things into their proper channel again. 



It is a singular freak of Nature, this instinct which 

 prompts one bird to lay its eggs in the nests of others, 

 and thus shirk the responsibility of rearing its own 

 young. The cow-buntings always resort to this cunning 



