AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 143 



Last autumn I was watching some little Juncos, quite a flock of 

 which had collected in some shrubby plum-trees, just about dusk. 

 The air was just cool enough to brace one up and perhaps it reminded 

 the Juncos of their Canada homes — and how happy they seemed — 

 picking themselves, softly uttering the call note "tceep" and now and 

 then warbling a little song, scarcely above a whisper. As I watched 

 them, I heard the queer nasal cry of a Hawk in the orchard. A 

 moment later he darted by me like a flash, and the little Juncos with a 

 startled cry dropped to the ground below — all but one and it was being 

 borne swifty away in the pitiless talons of the Hawk. 



Near my home there is a small plot of ground, grown up in dense 

 shrubbery and thickets and dotted here and there by large stumps, — 

 reminders of trees that once held sway there. The plot is divided by a 

 small stream and is altogether an ideal place to study bird-life. 



Many species are found there, and there are some of the prettiest 

 little bird homes in the country. I visit there so often that the birds 

 have naturally come to consider me a part of the necessary surround- 

 ings. One day when I had sat quietly on a stump for more than three 

 hours, royally entertained by these "little brothers of the air," I heard 

 a sharp protest from some bushes near by. On looking over 

 there I saw a bush violently shaking, and hopping excitedly around it 

 a pair of Indigo Buntings and a Yellow Warbler. Just then a female 

 Cowbird flew out of the bush and my suspicions were immediately 

 aroused. In the bush I found an Indigo's nest containing one egg — 

 and that was a Cowbh-d's. It was the first time I actually witnessed a 

 Cowbird's visit to a nest. It is generally supposed that these visits 

 are always made in secret but this was at least one exception to the 

 rule. And what was to me still more surprising was that she had laid 

 an egg in the nest before, even the owner had deigned to do so. It 

 was simply adding insult to injury. The egg was freshly laid for it 

 was still warm. The next day there was still another Cowbird's egg 

 in the nest. I can't offer but one theory which is rather a lame one, 

 and that is that she, being unable to find any other nest, had to 

 choose between the vacant one and the ground. It is needless to say 

 that the Indigo Buntings abandoned the nest. It was only one of the 

 many little homes that are blighted every year by the unwelcome 

 visits of the Cowbird. 



