270 THE LOG OF THE SUN 



by, scores of red-winged blackbirds and cowbirds 

 mingle amicably together, both of dark hue but 

 of such unlike matrimonial habits. A single male 

 red-wing, as we have seen, may assume the cares 

 of a harem of three, four, or five females, each of 

 which rears her brown-streaked offspring in her 

 own particular nest, while the valiant guardian 

 keeps faithful watch over his small colony among 

 the reeds and cat-tails. But little thought or care 

 does mother cowbird waste upon her offspring. 

 No home life is hers — merely a stealthy approach 

 to the nest of some unsuspecting yellow warbler, 

 or other small bird, a hastily deposited egg, and 

 the unnatural parent goes on her way, having 

 shouldered all her household cares on another. 

 Her young may be hatched and carefully reared 

 by the patient little warbler mother, or the egg 

 may spoil in the deserted nest, or be left in the 

 cold beneath another nest bottom built over it; 

 little cares the cowbird. 



The ospreys or fish hawks seem to circle south- 

 ward in pairs or trios, but some clear, cold day 

 the sky will be alive with hawks of other kinds. 

 It is a strange fact that these birds which have 

 the power to rise so high that they fairly disap- 

 pear from our sight choose the trend of terrestrial 

 valleys whenever possible, in directing their 

 aerial routes. Even the series of New Jersey 

 hills, flattered by the name of the Orange Moun- 

 tains, seem to balk many hawks which elect to 



