THE OOLOGIST. 



229 



found in company with Sand Swallow's 

 nests, which may be deep, but almost 

 invariably have eliptieal openings. 



Securing the five pure white eggs it 

 contained, after a tiresome dig, I enter- 

 ed a small grove where the lisping ditty 

 of the Redstart proclaimed the nearby 

 presence of a nest, refusing the inces- 

 sant challenge of the Maryland Yellow.- 

 throat to "tackle me" "tackle me," and 

 espied a flimsy platform of twigs, where- 

 on was seated a Rose-breasted Gros- 

 beak, called by the natives, "Red heart," 

 which recalled to my mind the story of 

 the henpecked hubbj 7 taking care of the 

 children while his wife went calling. 

 Packing away this set of three eggs, I 

 went on to a small sapling where I saw 

 the trim little nest of the Redstart, its 

 owner seeming rather more distressed 

 than honored at my presence, and re- 

 lieving the nest of its four dainty treas- 

 ures did not tend to allay its distress. 



I had now reached the foot of the hill 

 where the stream rippled over the slate 

 in musical little cataracts, and the hem- 

 lock and beech formed an arch over- 

 head, when, like a tongue of flame a 

 Scarlet Tanager darted past in pursuit 

 of its better half, both alighting on a 

 branch of a small tree, seemingly un- 

 conscious of a hostile presence. The 

 female had something in its bill, which, 

 by the aid of my field glass, I made out 

 to be a few small twigs, and after wait- 

 ing a short time it flew to a limb of s 

 hemlock, whither the male closely fol- 

 lowed, and on approaching I saw a 

 nearly completed nest. Spotting this 

 nest for the futnre I proceeded up the 

 glen, to where the growth was smaller 

 and in a small shrub, about two feet 

 fi'om the ground I found a nest of the 

 Chestnut-sided Warbler. Gesticulations 

 did not seem to frighten its occupant 

 in the least, so I g' ntly removed it with 

 my hand and disclosed to my delighted 

 gaze four eggs of the Warbler and one 

 Cowbird's. 



Iu a grape vine near by a Black-billed 

 Cuckoo was sitting on six eggs. Three 



were of the normal size, but the re- 

 maining three c.e as large as those 

 of the Yellow-billed. 



Seated on the mossy bank of the 

 stream, I satisfied the cravings of the 

 inner man, occasionally tossing a stone 

 at an impudent Jay, which was eyeing 

 me with evident distrust. Watching 

 the Magnolia and Black-throated Green 

 Warblers Hitting from tree to tree and 

 listening to the twittering of a flock of 

 Pine Siskins, and the far off auk, auk 

 of the Nuthatch, I had gradully arrang- 

 ed myself for a quiet doze, when I 

 heard a harsh scream overhead and 

 starting up began to look for the in- 

 truder. It proved to be a Sharp-shin- 

 ned Hawk and a through canvass of the 

 district soon showed a nest, snugly 

 packed against the trunk of a lai'ge 

 hemlock. The tree was very lai'ge and 

 the birds daring, but after a- hard tussle 

 I reached the nest, and finally stepped 

 once more on terra firrna with four 

 heavily incubated eggs. They were 

 beauties, with a delicate clouding 

 around the larger end, and make a fine 

 appearance in my cabinet. The male 

 Hawk made an excellent skin. 



As it was nearly time for the return 

 train. I began to make my way toward 

 the depot, noting many nests on my 

 way, though few deserving mention, 

 and soon my attention was attracted by 

 the mellow lay of a Warbling Vireo. 



It has always been my experience, 

 that Ave are excusable, the Warbling 

 Greenlet prefers a popular tree, (Popul- 

 us tremuloicles or candicans) and as this 

 song came from such a tree I began to 

 search for the nest, soon finding it on 

 one of the topmost branches. The 

 owner of the 'premises offered some 

 slight objections, but these were readily 

 overcome by the judicious administra- 

 tion of Uncle Sam's all powerful coin. 



Ascending the tree I secured the sin- 

 gle egg it contained, reaching the depot 

 just iu time, and was soon whirling 

 towards home wrapped in the memoirs 

 of the pleasant day 1 had passed. 



Chas. C. Trembly, 

 Utica, N. Y. 



