124 RIVERBY 



the little bird was about it, too, — every moment on 

 her guard lest you discover her secret ! Five eggs 

 were laid, and incubation was far advanced, when 

 the storms and winds came. The cradle indeed did 

 rock. The boughs did not break, but they swayed 

 and separated as you would part your two inter- 

 locked hands. The ground of the little valley fairly 

 gave way, the nest tilted over till its contents fell 

 into the chasm. It was like an earthquake that de- 

 stroys a hamlet. 



No born tree-builder would have placed its nest 

 in such a situation. Birds that build at the end of 

 the branch, like the oriole, tie the nest fast; others, 

 like the robin, build against the main trunk; still 

 others build securely in the fork. The sparrow, in 

 her ignorance, rested her house upon the spray of 

 two branches, and when the tempest came the 

 branches parted company and the nest was engulfed. 



Another sparrow friend of mine met with a curi- 

 ous mishap the past season. It was the little social 

 sparrow, or chippie. She built her nest on the arm 

 of a grapevine in the vineyard, a favorite place with 

 chippie. It had a fine canopy of leaves, and was 

 firmly and securely placed. Just above it hung a 

 bunch of young grapes, which in the warm July 

 days grew very rapidly. The little bird had not 

 foreseen the calamity that threatened her. The 

 grapes grew down into her nest and completely filled 

 it, so that, when I put my hand in, there were the 

 eggs sat upon by the grapes. The bird was crowded 

 out, and had perforce abandoned her nest, ejected 



