THE TRAGEDIES OF THE NESTS. 37 



way, but whether in the open day or under cover of 

 darkness I have no means of knowing. The frisky red 

 squirrel was doubtless the culprit. The other nest 

 was in a maple sapling, within a few yards of the 

 little rustic summer-house already referred to. The 

 first attempt of the season, I suspect, had failed in 

 a more secluded place under the hill ; so the pair had 

 come up nearer the house for protection. The male 

 sang in the trees near by for several days before I 

 chanced to see the nest. The very morning, I think, 

 it was finished, I saw a red squirrel exploring a tree 

 but a few yards away ; he probably knew what the 

 singing meant as well as I did. I did not see the in- 

 side of the nest, for it was almost instantly deserted, 

 the female having probably laid a single egg, which 

 the squirrel had devoured. 



If I were a bird, in building my nest I should fol- 

 low the example of the bobolink, placing it in the 

 midst of a broad meadow, where there was no spear of 

 grass, or flower* or growth unlike another to mark its 

 site. I judge that the bobolink escapes the dangers to 

 which I have adverted as few or no other birds do. 

 Unless the mowers come along at an earlier date than 

 she has anticipated, that is, before July 1st, or a skunk 

 goes nosing through the grass, which is unusual, she is 

 as safe as bird well can be in the great open of nature. 

 She selects the most monotonous and uniform place 

 she can find amid the daisies or the timothy and clover, 

 and places her simple structure upon the ground in 

 the midst of it. There is no concealment, except as 

 the great conceals the little, as the desert conceals the 

 pebble, as the myriad conceals the unit. You may 

 find the nest once, if your course chances to lead 

 you across it and your eye is quick enough to note 



