THE TRAGEDIES OF THE NESTS. 39 



than that, they hugged the nest so closely and formed 

 such a compact mass, that though there were five of 

 them, they preserved the unit of expression, — no 

 single head or form was defined ; they were one, and 

 that one was without shape or color, and not separa- 

 ble, except by closest scrutiny, from the one of the 

 meadow-bottom. That nest prospered, as bobolinks' 

 nests doubtless generally do ; for, notwithstanding 

 the enormous slaughter of the birds during their fall 

 migrations by Southern sportsmen, the bobolink ap- 

 pears to hold its own, and its music does not dimin- 

 ish in our Northern meadows. 



Birds with whom the struggle for life is the sharpest 

 seem to be more prolific than those whose nest and 

 young are exposed to fewer dangers. The robin, the 

 sparrow, the pewee, etc., will rear, or make the at- 

 tempt to rear, two and sometimes three broods in a 

 season ; but the bobolink, the oriole, the kingbird, the 

 goldfinch, the cedar-bird, the birds of prey, and the 

 woodpeckers, that build in safe retreats, in the trunks 

 of trees, have usually but a single brood. If the bob- 

 olink reared two broods, our meadows would swarm 

 with them. 



I noted three nests of the cedar-bird in August in 

 a single orchard, all productive, but all with one or 

 more unfruitful eggs in them. The cedar-bird is the 

 most silent of our birds, having but a single fine note, 

 so far as I have observed, but its manners are very 

 expressive at times. No bird known to me is ca- 

 pable of expressing so much silent alarm while on 

 the nest as this bird. As you ascend the tree and 

 draw near it, it depresses its plumage and crest, 

 stretches up its neck, and becomes the very picture 

 of fear. Other birds, under like circumstances, hardly 



