THE COMMON-SENSE VIEW 179 



you. She watches you all the time from the 

 proper distance, and knows by your conduct the 

 moment you have found her nest. And before 

 you have even had time to admire the skill 

 displayed by the mother in blending so perfectly 

 her abode with its surroundings, a single peculiar 

 note from her has caused the whole nestful of 

 cuddling young ones to dart out of their cradle 

 and disappear among the surrounding clods as if 

 by magic. No amount of searching can fmd one 

 of them. They have vanished as effectually as if 

 they had evaporated. And it is enough to touch 

 the heart of the most indifferent to see the anxious 

 mother bird, as I have seen her from the cranny 

 of a neighbouring rock-pile, come back to her 

 nest and call her scattered children together again 

 after they have once dispersed at her command. 

 Circling around the nest two or three times to 

 assure herself that no one is nigh, she alights and 

 begins a low clucking sound like that of a hen 

 calling her brood. The little ones come out of their 

 hiding-places one after another as mysteriously 

 as they vanished. You can't see for the life of 

 you where they come from. They seem to just 

 emanate. And if one of them fails to come at her 

 call — for the devoted mother knows very well just 

 how many she has — she extends her search farther 

 out from her nest, looking all around and keeping 

 up that peculiar little cluck, until the half-scared- 

 to-death little slyboots finally comes creeping out 

 from his improvised snugger}^ somewhere. If a 

 kildeer's nest has once been found, and the mother 



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