THE TRAGEDIES OF THE NESTS 67 



indulging its propensity to peep and pry into holes 

 and crevices, alighted upon it and probably in- 

 spected the interior; but by some unlucky move it 

 got its wings entangled in this same fatal horse-hair. 

 Its efforts to free itself appeared only to result in 

 its being more securely and hopelessly bound; and 

 there it perished; and there its form, dried and 

 embalmed by the summer heats, was yet hanging 

 in September, the outspread wings and plumage 

 showing nearly as bright as in life. 



A correspondent writes me that one of his orioles 

 got entangled in a cord while building her nest, 

 and that, though by the aid of a ladder he reached 

 and liberated her, she died soon afterward. He 

 also found a "chippie" (called also "hair-bird") 

 suspended from a branch by a horse-hair, beneath 

 a partly-constructed nest. I heard of a cedar- bird 

 caught and destroyed in the same way, and of two 

 young bluebirds, around whose legs a horse-hair 

 had become so tightly wound that the legs withered 

 up and dropped off* The birds became fledged, 

 and finally left the nest with the others. Such 

 tragedies are probably quite common. 



Before the advent of civilization in this country, 

 the oriole probably built a much deeper nest than 

 it usually does at present. When now it builds in 

 remote trees and along the borders of the woods, 

 its nest, I have noticed, is long and gourd-shaped; 

 but in orchards and near dwellings it is only a deep 

 cup or pouch. It shortens it up in proportion as 

 the danger lessens. Probably a succession of disas- 



