38 THE OSPREY. 



walk. It appeared to be quite completed; but a visit several days later found 

 the nest still without eggs, and I took it the birds had deserted. Happening 

 that way in late July I noticed that a brood had been raised in the interim. 



On June 26, 1895, I found another nest some forty feet up in a large 

 maple shade tree at Constantia, N. Y., — and, as before, directlj' over a side- 

 walk. It was attached, like the last, to a rather thick branch and not far from 

 the main tree-trunk. Having climbed up to investigate I found three or four 

 very small occupants to the nest, and decided to watch feeding operations at 

 close range. But alas for my decision! I was far from showing proper cau 

 tion. One of the birds came with food while I was close by the nest and be- 

 trayed but mild curiosity till the mate, beak full, appeared. Then there ensued 

 a muffled discussion; and it was soon evident from their very pronounced un- 

 easiness that inquisitive folk were by mutual understanding barred from the 

 tree. By partially withdrawing, and sitting quietly, I spent some time in try- 

 ing to induce a less harsh ultimatum; but the ethics of the case were plainly 

 on the parents' side, and fearing that harm might come to the youngsters by 

 enforced abstinence I left the tree. Hardly had I done so when happy domestic 

 relations were resumed. Unfortunately I had no glass. 



About Washington I have seen but two nests. The first of these (June 

 7, 1901), thirty feet up in a giant beech in the 'Zoo' was rather too far out 

 on a limb for purposes of photography. One of the parents upon leaving the 

 nest was seen by Mr. Bartsch to swallow ordure of the young. My last and 

 most satisfactory experience — pleasant enough to atone fully for past failures 

 — was with a brood of three at Dyke, Virginia. The Washington contingent 

 know what a delightful 'birdy' spot this is; wooded slopes with a winding 

 path or two, thick undergrowth in places, a spring and a level stretch of low 

 woodland bordered by a marshy arm of the Potomac where the golden club 

 ( Orontium) flourishes and the Marsh Wrens gurgle all day long. On June 9th 

 last I had been wading in the marsh for Wrens' nests and was making for dry 

 land when I fell in with a faintly piping Vireo youngster crouched on an alder 

 branch at the margin of the marsh. The least I could do was to rescue from 

 eminent peril and carry to shore the vagabond. And there I beheld the amia- 

 ble junior editor of this journal closed jack-knife fashion on a slender tulip, 

 half way to the nest. The one bird within the nest foreseeing possible disaster 

 poised on the rim and fluttered to the ground. When the nest and branch 

 had been got, they were set up within range of the camera, and the two birds 

 posed with some success for snapshots. Shortly, a few faint chips close by 

 proclaimed another scion, and in a moment the nest complement of three was 

 completed. We tried to coax the parent to feed the youngsters at the nest. 

 With food in her beak she came tantalisingly near, and seemed each instant 

 about to approach within range; but after all, the net result of her presence 



