WILD LIFE ABOUT MY CABIN 



der were shaking the heavens, and the big drops 

 were just beginning to come down, when, on looking 

 up, I saw three swifts high in air, working their way 

 slowly, straight into the teeth of the storm. They 

 were not hurried or disturbed ; they held themselves 

 firmly and steadily ; indeed, they were fairly at 

 anchor in the air till the rage of the elements should 

 have subsided. I do not know that any other of our 

 land birds outride the storms in this way. 



The phoebe-birds also soon found me out in my 

 retreat, and a pair of them deliberated a long while 

 about building on a little shelf in one of my gables. 

 But, much to my regret, they finally decided in favor 

 of a niche in the face of a ledge of rocks not far 

 from my spring. The place was well screened by 

 bushes and well guarded against the approach of 

 snakes or four-footed prowlers, and the birds pros- 

 pered well and reared two broods. They have now 

 occupied the same nest three years in succession. 

 This is unusual : Phoebe prefers a new nest each sea- 

 son, but in this case there is no room for another^ 

 and, the site being a choice one, she slightly repairs 

 and refurnishes her nest each spring, leaving the 

 new houses for her more ambitious neighbors. 



Of wood-warblers my territory affords many 

 specimens. One spring a solitary Nashville warbler 

 lingered near my cabin for a week. I heard his 

 bright, ringing song at all hours of the day. The 

 next spring there were two or more, and they nested 



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