BIRDS'-NESTS 



cavernous. One immense layer projects many feet, 

 allowing a person or many persons, standing upright, 

 to move freely beneath it. There is a delicious 

 spring of water there, and plenty of wild, cool air. 

 The floor is of loose stone, now trod by sheep and 

 foxes, once by the Indian and the wolf. How I 

 have delighted from boyhood to spend a summer 

 day in this retreat, or take refuge there from a sud- 

 den shower! Always the freshness and coolness, 

 and always the delicate mossy nest of the phrebe- 

 bird! The bird keeps her place till you are within 

 a few feet of her, when she flits to a near branch, 

 and, with many oscillations of her tail, observes you 

 anxiously. Since the country has become settled, 

 this pewee has fallen into the strange practice of 

 occasionally placing its nest under a bridge, hay- 

 shed, or other artificial structure, where it is sub- 

 ject to all kinds of interruptions and annoyances. 

 When placed thus, the nest is larger and coarser. 

 I know a hay-loft beneath which a pair has regu- 

 larly placed its nest for several successive seasons. 

 Arranged along on a single pole, which sags down 

 a few inches from the flooring it was intended to 

 help support, are three of these structures, marking 

 the number of years the birds have nested there. 

 The foundation is of mud with a superstructure of 

 moss, elaborately lined with hair and feathers. 

 Nothing can be more perfect and exquisite than the 

 interior of one of these nests, yet a new one is built 

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