OVEN-BIRD. 133 



up, less like a chewink than like a hen, you have 

 probably found your friend. 



His olive-green back makes him inconspicuous 

 when he is among the leaves, and the thick brown 

 spotting on his white breast serves as a disguise 

 when he is on the ground. If you are fortunate 

 you will discover his orange-brown crown, enclosed 

 by two black stripes that converge toward the 

 biU. 



Like the partridge, the crow, the blackbirds, 

 and the meadow-lark, the oven-bird is a walker, so 

 that you can distinguish him at a glance merely 

 by his leisurely dignified gait, it is such a con- 

 trast to the hopping of the chewinks and spar- 

 rows. 



The leaf-house from which the oven-bird gets 

 his name varies in its roofing, but the first nest I 

 ever found may be taken as a type of the com- 

 monest style of architecture. It was a bright morn- 

 ing in June, and while walking through the edge 

 of a grove of young maples a brown shadow started 

 up from under my feet and disappeared in the 

 woods. On looking down beside a blooming Solo- 

 mon's seal, I saw what at first glance seemed to 

 be a bunch of dry leaves, one of the thousand 

 pushed up by mice or crowding spring flowers. 

 But the hint given by the fleeting shadow could 

 not be ignored, and I stooped down to examine 

 the bunch. I felt it over eagerly, one, two, 

 three sides, no opening ; the fourth, my fingers 



