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Hints to Audubon Workers. 



•she ever keep her babies quiet without a 

 cradle! The coarse mud-plastered house 

 •of the robin fills it with superior surprise. 

 For its part, it usually chooses a lithe slen- 

 •der sapling that responds to all the ca- 

 prices of the wind, and from the fork of 

 one of its twigs hangs a dainty birchbark 

 basket. For lining, it picks up leaf-bud 

 cases, the curving stems of the maple seeds 

 — wings the children call them — and now 

 and then a spray of hemlock. With the 

 artist's instinct it puts the strips of brown 

 bark next the lining, and keeps the shining 

 silvery bits for the outside. Sometimes it 

 puts in pieces of white, crisp, last year's 

 leaves, and often steals the side of a small 

 wasp's nest to weave in with the rest. For 

 ornament, bits of white cobweb-like sub- 

 stance that look as if taken from cocoons, 

 are fastened on here and there. What could 

 3'ou have more daintily pretty? Nothing, 

 after the four white oval eggs with their 

 delicate wreath of brown dots are laid on 

 the maple wing stems in the bottom. On 

 such a nest as this, with the tender green 

 leaves to shield her from stray sunbeams, 

 and the wind to rock her gently back and 

 forth, brooding must lose some of its weari- 

 some monotony; and you are tempted to 

 account for the difference between the ner- 

 vousness of some bird mothers and the con- 

 tented trustfulness of the vireo. 



One day I came quite unexpectedly upon 

 a nesting mother vireo, Here was a chance 

 to see her red eyes. I leveled my glasses 

 at them and stared with all the rudeness of 

 an enthusiast. Nearer and nearer I crept, 

 but got within two feet of the tree before 

 she stirred. Then she flew off with only a 

 mildly complaining whee-ough, and sat down 

 on a tree near by to see what I would do 

 next. What I did do was to discover a 

 wasp's nest about two feet over hers, to 

 wonder at the proximity, and, although it 

 looked as if it was "to let," to retreat with 

 more respectful consideration than I had 

 accorded her. 



There were a number of vireo families 

 that I was watching last spring, and one of 

 them built so low that by pulling down the 

 end of the branch I could reach into the 

 nest. One day when I went to examine the 

 eggs, they had turned into a family of such 

 big yellow-throated youngsters that they 

 filled the nest. The mother did not seem to 

 be about, so I sat down with my dogs near 

 by to wait for her. I supposed she was off 

 worm hunting, and would fly back in great 

 excitement when she discovered the intrud- 

 ers. But all at once, almost over my head, 

 I heard a low, crooning 7£///^^-a//./ I turned 

 in surprise, and there was my mother bird, 

 looking down at me with all the composure 

 of an old friend. JVha-w/ia-wha, she said, 

 as she saw the dogs and took in the group 

 again. But as we kept still, and did not 

 offer to molest her children, she soon began 

 looking about for worms, Sdiymg fer-ter-eater 

 as she worked. She would turn her head 

 and look down at us once in a while with 

 mild curiosity; but although I went back 

 to the nest to test her, she seemed to have 

 perfect confidence in me, not showing the 

 least alarm. Afterward I heard the vireo 

 song from her, and concluded that she was 

 the father of the family, left on guard while 

 the mother was taking her rest. I thought 

 perhaps that accounted for some of the in- 

 difference, but after that, when I went to 

 see them, I found both old birds, and always 

 met with the same trustful confidence. In- 

 deed, they would talk to me in the most 

 friendly manner, answering my broken bird 

 talk with gentle sympatlietic seriousness 

 that said very plainly they knew I meant 

 well, and sounded very sweet and winsome 

 in their low caressing tones. 



To their enemies, however, these beauti- 

 ful birds are neither gentle nor confiding. 

 Last June, as I was watching a chestnut- 

 sided warbler from the undergrowth near 

 my vireo's nest, I heard a great commotion 

 among the thrushes and vireos, and hurried 

 out of my cover to see what was the trouble. 



