278 Old White Wing 



the privilege of seeing. After dark, with the help of 

 a friend my support was constructed and placed in 

 position, and a hole was cut through the trunk. 



Nature never seemed more beautiful than on that 

 May morning, as I prepared for my first day's study. 

 A house wren was singing his morning praises from 

 the old sweet apple tree, and as I passed through the 

 yard a mother hen was taking her brood for their 

 first little walk; in the lane which led to the woods 

 the bluebirds and robins were busy with their morn- 

 ing duties, and from over the meadows came the 

 thump-thump-thump-rup-rup-rup-r-r-r-r-r of the ruffed 

 grouse from Marble's Grove. 



I was soon in my place of concealment in the bass- 

 wood tree, and, with the aid of my glass, I could see 

 the nest and its surroundings as clearly as though they 

 were not more than twenty feet away. My position 

 was not one of ease, for I was standing on a slat nailed 

 across an upright. For five weary hours I watched 

 and waited, but not a sign of Old White Wing! On 

 the second day, when I was rewarded by seeing him 

 make a visit to the nest, the tree could scarcely 

 hold me! My legs ceased to ache, I forgot my weari- 

 ness, for now I believed that I had found the home 

 of Old White Wing. 



The first real thing that I saw him do was to relieve 



