INDIGO-BIRD. 121 



This June a pair of indigo-birds built in the 

 edge of the woods only a few rods from the house, 

 but I think they never ceased to regret their 

 temerity. The nest was a pretty little bunch of 

 dry leaves and grass, and its deep, narrow cavity 

 was lined with hair. It was wedged into the fork 

 of a tiny beech, only six inches from the ground, 

 and not more than three feet from the carriage 

 drive. The mother would sit quietly when wag- 

 ons passed, but as soon as she found that I had dis- 

 covered her nest would fly off in distress whenever 

 I happened to be walking by. Unlike goldfinches 

 and sparrows, the mother never got used to me, 

 and to the last suspected me of I don't know 

 what murderous intentions darting off into the 

 low bushes with her metallic cheep, cheep, as soon 

 as she caught sight of me, and almost refusing to 

 feed her babies till I had gone back to the house. 

 Her husband, though somewhat suspicious, could 

 not share her alarm ; he chirped and jerked his 

 tail about, but his anxiety had a perfunctory air. 



Earlier in the season I saw a very marked in- 

 stance of this difference in temperament. I was 

 walking through the edge of a clearing when I 

 scared up a mother indigo-bird, apparently look- 

 ing for a good site for her nest. She was much 

 excited, and twitched her tail as she flew about 

 crying cheep, cheep. She made so much noise 

 that her husband heard her, and came flying home 

 to rescue her. He did not think either my dogs or 



