174 EYE SPY 



wonder at the labor involved in the accumulation 

 of such a mass. A cloudy dandelion ball in the 

 grass doubtless looks inviting to the nest-builder, 

 but how much of this tuft would the bird be able 

 to secure in her bill when a mere touch or breath 

 perhaps is sufficient to scatter the ball to the 

 breeze? No; I cannot believe my bird of the 

 dandelion nest wasted her energies in picking up 

 a sino^le seed here and there from a dandelion 

 ball, or perhaps on the wing. A discovery of a 

 few years ago has shown me how dandelion 

 seeds may be cleverly gathered by a shrewd nest- 

 builder, and how a whole nest may be feathered 

 with them without much labor. 



For some years I was puzzled to account for a 

 peculiar mutilation which I often observed on the 

 dandelion. It was always at the same place — the 

 calyx of the blossom — the green portion which 

 incloses the bud, and, after blooming, closes again 

 about the withered flower, and so remains while 

 the seeds are growing. Most of my readers 

 have seen dandelion flowers in all their stashes of 

 growth. The flower usually blooms for three 

 mornings. By this time all the tiny yellow flow- 

 erets which make up the yellow cushion have 

 bloomed. The green calyx now closes, to remain 

 closed, for a week, while the stem generally bends 

 outward, and thus draws the withered flower tow- 

 ards the ground, often hiding it beneath the leaves. 



