SHARP EYES 31 



has heard that note. The past spring the males came 

 about a week in advance of the females. A fine 

 male lingered about my grounds and orchard all that 

 time, apparently waiting the arrival of his mate. He 

 called and warbled every day, as if he felt sure she 

 was within ear-shot and could be hurried up. Now 

 he warbled half-angrily or upbraidingly, then coax- 

 ingly, then cheerily and confidently, the next mo- 

 ment in a plaintive, far-away manner. He would 

 half open his wings, and twinkle them caressingly, 

 as if beckoning his mate to his heart. One morning 

 she had come, but was shy and reserved. The fond 

 male flew to a knothole in an old apple-tree, and 

 coaxed her to his side. I heard a fine confidential 

 warble, — the old, old story. But the female flew 

 to a near tree, and uttered her plaintive, homesick 

 note. The male went and got some dry grass or 

 bark in his beak, and flew again to the hole in the 

 old tree, and promised unremitting devotion, but the 

 other said, "Nay," and flew away in the distance. 

 When he saw her going, or rather heard her distant 

 note, he dropped his stuff, and cried out in a tone 

 that said plainly enough, "Wait a minute. One 

 word, please," and flew swiftly in pursuit. He won 

 her before long, however, and early in April the 

 pair were established in one of the four or five boxes 

 I had put up for them, but not until they had 

 changed their minds several times. As soon as the 

 first brood had flown, and while they were yet under 

 their parents' care, they began another nest in one 

 of the other boxes, the female, as usual, doing all 



