136 Bird -Lore 



the trees of home lawns and orchard. Of the many nests that I have found 

 and handled or else observed closely with a glass, the majority have been 

 quite open at the top like the one pictured, and the only one with a nar- 

 row and funnel-like opening came from a wayside elm on the edge of a 

 dense wood. 



The female seems to be weaver-in-chief, using both claw and bill, though 

 I have seen the male carry her material. It is asserted that Orioles wilt 

 weave gayly colored worsteds into their nests. This I very much doubt, or, 

 if they do, I believe it is for lack of something more suitable. I have repeatedly 

 fastened vari-colored bunches of soft linen twine, carpet thread, flosses and 

 the like under the bark of trees frequented by Orioles, and, with one excep- 

 tion, it has been the more somber tints that were selected. 



In the exceptional case a long thread of scarlet linen floss was taken and 

 woven into the nest for about half its length, the remainder hanging down; 

 but, on resuming my watch the next day, I found that the weaver had left 

 the half-finished task and crossed the lawn to another tree. Whether it 

 was owing to the presence of red squirrels close by, or that the red thread 

 had been a subject for domestic criticism and dissension, we may not know. 



Be this as it may, in spite of the bright hues of the parent birds and the 

 hanging shape of the nest that is never concealed by a branch upon which 

 it is saddled, like the home of so many birds, an Oriole's nest is exceed- 

 ingly difficult to locate unless one has noticed the trips to and fro in the 

 building process; but once the half-dozen white, darkly etched and spotted 

 eggs it contains hatch out, the vociferous youngsters at once call atten- 

 tion to the spot and make their whereabouts known, in spite of sky cradle 

 and carefully adjusted leaf umbrellas. 



If their parents bring them food, they squeal (yes, that is the only word 

 for it) ; if they are left alone, they do likewise. Their baby voices can be 

 heard above the wind, and it is only either at night or during a heavy 

 shower, when a parent would naturally be supposed to be upon the nest, 

 that they are silent. 



As an adult, the Oriole lives on rather a mixed diet and 



His Food has a great love of honey; but, of course, as a parent he is, 



with his sharp beak, a great provider of animal food for his 



home, and to his credit must be placed a vast number of injurious tree-top 



insects that escape the notice of less agile birds. 



Complaints are frequently heard of his propensity for opening pods and 

 eating young peas, piercing the throats of trumpet-shaped flowers for the 

 honey, and, in the autumn before the southward migration, siphoning grape 

 and plum juice by means of this same slender-pointed bill. 



Personally, I have never lost peas through his appetite for green vege- 

 tables, though I have had the entire floral output of an old trumpet vine 

 riddled bud and blossom; and I have often stood and scolded them from 



