WILD LIFE OP ORCHARD AND FIELD 



here and there with a living velvet of snowy white. 

 It is elastic and somewhat viscous, and with gossa- 

 mer serves an obvious purpose in such a nest as 

 the vireo's; but why the wrens scatter it through 

 their brush-pile is not so clear. 



One of my pleasantest memories is of a spark- 

 ling April morning in 1874, at Scott's Landing, a 

 little railway junction on the Ohio River. It was 

 bright and cold, and the wheezy steamboats pass- 

 ing up and down the river trailed from their tall 

 and slender stacks great golden banners athwart 

 the rising sun. The birds were up betimes. Crows 

 from far and near were gathering to breakfast at 

 the banks of the river, as is their custom at sea- 

 sons of high water. The crow - blackbirds re- 

 dundancy of title! were moving in small flocks 

 about some newly ploughed ground, smacking 

 their horny lips at one another over some luscious, 

 luckless grub; and their cousins, the military red- 

 wings, were in the highest glee. Cardinals are 

 the natural bird-feature there; and their bold whist- 

 ling resounded from every hill-side. Out of the 

 orchard came the sharp squeak of a black-and- 

 white creeper, the noisy chatter of chipping-spar- 

 rows, and the dee-dee-dee of the miniature Southern 

 chickadees. One tree was the haunt of a single 



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