UNDER THE MAPLES 



in the act. When she comes again and again 

 and again, she is filled with the same apprehension. 



After a night of heavy but warm rain two of the 

 half-fledged young were lying on the ground in 

 front of the nest, dead. There were no murderous 

 marks upon them, and the secret of the tragedy I 

 could not divine. 



What automatons these wild creatures are, ap- 

 parently so wise on some occasions and so absurd 

 on others! This vesper sparrow in bringing food 

 to her young, going through the same tactics over 

 and over, learns no more than a machine would. 

 But, of course, the bird does not think; hence the 

 folly of her behavior to a being that does. The 

 wisdom of nature, which is so unerring under 

 certain conditions, becomes to us sheer folly under 

 changed conditions. 



When the mother bird's suspicion gets the better 

 of her, she often devours the food she has in her 

 beak, so fearful is she of betraying her precious 

 secret. But the next time she comes she may only 

 maneuver briefly before approaching the nest, and 

 then again hesitate and parley with her fears and 

 make false moves and keep her eye on me, as if I 

 had only just appeared upon the scene. 



One of the best things a bird-lover can have in 

 front of his house or cabin is a small dead tree with 

 numerous leafless branches. Many kinds of birds 

 love to perch briefly where they can look around 



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