THE NIDOLOGIST 33 
the tree I encountered the mother, which 
showed more concern than usual, leading 
me to believe that the young bird was still 
in the vicinity, but I was unable to find it, 
nor did I ever see it again. 
From data at my command I am satisfied 
that this species, at least, often lays its eggs 
when the nest is but half completed, leav- 
ing the ornaments of lichen, etc., until the 
eggs are nearly hatched. 
San Diego, Cal. 
—+o-+—_—_ 
An Outing with the Boys. 
BY P. M. SILLOWAY. 
always enjoy an outing with the boys, 
| because somehow I can learn facts 
then which I can not obtain otherwise. 
The boys can find so many more rare speci- 
mens that I can chance upon, and their 
knowledge of the birds is so different from 
the formal facts I have derived from other 
sources and my own experiences, that it is 
refreshing to spend a day with the boys in 
rambling along the hedges and through the 
forest and meadows. Isn't it strange that 
boys who do not know anything about the 
value of eggs can so frequently find speci- 
mens for which we older fellows search long 
and unsuccessfully? This spring a boy 
brought to me three eggs of the Long-eared 
Owl, roughly blown through chipped holes 
in the side, for identification, and told me 
that he found a nest of six eggs in an old 
Crow’s nest near town. He and a friend 
had divided the set, but his friend had 
broken one of the three which fell to him 
in the distribution of the spoils. Now I 
have never found a nest of the Long-eared 
Owl, and so with a companion I set ought 
the next evening for the grove in which the 
nest was found, but after climbing tree 
after tree we found not even a Crow’s egg, 
and it was apparent that the guileless boys 
had accidently stumbled upon the only nest 
of the Owl in the first tree they climbed. 
It is safe to say that I have peeped into 
hundreds of nests of the Brown Thrasher 
without spying an egg of the Cowbird, but 
this spring two sets of eggs of the Brown 
Thrasher were brought to me by the boys, 
who desired me to identify the peculiar egg 
among the well-known products of the 
Thrasher, and I was forced to recognize the 
fact that luck is ever on the side of the 
small boy. And after I tramped over a 
meadow until I thought I had explored 
every foot of its grassy tufts, it was disgust- 
ing tome to have the boys bring to we 
two sets of Grashopper Sparrow of five 
each, and an incomplete set of six eggs of 
the Prairie Chicken, taken from the same 
meadow. 
The outing with the boys to which I 
refer in this article was on a bright and 
tempting May day. We started out with 
the intention of spending the day at a 
spring in the woods about three miles from 
town, and soon we were on the road in the 
rural districts. [he boys seemed anxious 
to form collections of eggs for themselves, 
and though they had no boxes or cotton, 
they collected one or two eggs from every 
nest of the Brown Thrasher found. It 
appeared that they were not collecting sets, 
but only choice singles, perhaps with the 
idea of forming choice sets of these choice 
singles, as I have heard that more advanced 
collectors frequently have done with some 
degree of temporary success. Every bird 
that flitted from the hedge or started up 
from the ground was a signal for a rush to 
find the nest, and some fine series of singles 
of the Brown Thrasher would have been 
formed if the boys were not forced to carry 
the eggs in their hands, and thus most of 
the specimens taken were broken. 
Noticing a low, recently trimmed hedge 
bordering a residence and orchard along the 
road, it occured to me that here was a favor- 
able place to find a nest of the Chipping 
Sparrow, of which I had seen numbers in 
every similar piece of hedge in my early 
years, but which I have not chanced upon 
for a number of years, doubtless owing to 
the illbred bullying of this domestic species 
by the ubiquitous English Sparrow. Soon 
the boys called my attention to a nest, and 
sure enough, there was the little nest of 
woven horse hair, but its only con- 
tents was a token of the Cowbird, and the 
owners of the tenement had rightly refused 
to assume the care thus imposed and had 
doubtless constructed another home for 
themselves. Now I walk along the long 
hedge, though the boys are ahead of me 
chasing out Thrashers and Sparrows. They 
are too intent on their big game to notice 
the second little nest, and awaiting me about 
sixty yards farther on I find the little nest 
of hair set in a crotch about a foot from 
the top of the hedge. It contained four 
eggs somewhat advanced in incubation, 
valuable to me simply as a reminder of the 
