232 Bird - Lore 



sure to be somewhere near. After a few moments' search, I found it in the 

 fork of a cherry sprout, about 3 feet from the ground. The sole occupant of 

 the nest was a fat, lazy Cowbird. The details of this story were missing, but 

 it was not hard to see how several little Warblers were crowded off this earth 

 by this clumsy interloper. Other similar cases must have happened in the 

 vicinity, because, on two other occasions, I have witnessed the rather disgust- 

 ing, but still comical, sight of a tiny mother Warbler, or a Song Sparrow, 

 devoting its entire time to satisfying the enormous appetite of a young Cowbird. 



One morning I was asked to locate a Song Sparrow's nest which was some- 

 where in the vicinity of a thistle patch which Mr. Harvey wished to clear out. 

 A. few of the thistles had been cut, but operations had been suspended because 

 of the serious objection of the parent birds. I took my post nearby, being 

 partly concealed by the tall grass and weeds. Both the male and female birds 

 came down, time after time, with their mouths full of small moths and other 

 insects, only to be devoured by themselves after much chirping and shifting 

 of positions. I took this to be bird strategy, and for three hours I sat fighting 

 the mosquitos as best I could without making much commotion. It finally 

 dawned on me that the birds were as much baffled as to the whereabouts of 

 the nest as I was. On first thought I supposed that, because of part of the 

 thistles being cut, the birds had somewhat lost their sense of direction, but it 

 proved that the nest had been overturned. I turned it right side up, but could 

 see nothing of the Httle birds. With my hand I scratched away the dead leaves 

 and grass, and even the earth, and there, buried in the ground, were the three 

 little birds, still alive, and one egg. My next query was what to do with the 

 young birds since the nest was partially destroyed and the protecting thistles 

 gone. I decided, rather than to move the nest any distance where it would be 

 protected by the weeds, that I should move the protection to it. So I dug up 

 tufts of sod and transplanted them about where the nest had been. Then I 

 remodeled the nest and placed it in a pocket between the tufts of grass. The 

 little birds and the egg were then replaced in the nest. It was only a moment 

 before the parents were feeding the young just as if nothing had happened. 

 The egg proved to be infertile, but the young birds were soon fully feathered 

 and left the nest. 



Another Song Sparrow family had an exciting time when they were intruded 

 upon by an otherwise friendly dog. The little Song Sparrows, being now 

 fledged, promptly left the nest, as they had been instinctively taught to do 

 when the dog's sniff sounded too close. The movement, of course, attracted 

 the dog, and she caught one of the little birds. I was hurrying to the scene as 

 fast as I could, but speed was impossible since I was in a rowboat, with a short 

 board for a paddle. My shouts caused the dog to drop the bird and, upon 

 examination, I found an abdominal wound, large enough to allow the bowel to 

 protrude. I took the little Sparrow home and he was immediately placed on 

 the operating table. With a fine silk thread I sewed up the wound and then 



