72 - THE NIDOLOGIST 
quite a heavy rain, freezing as it fell, and 
the morning of the 16th dawned ona gloomy 
and singularly cheerless scene. Every weed 
stalk, every blade of the thick dead grass 
was transformed into an icicle, either stand- 
ing vertically or bowed down with the 
unusual weight, and not one seemed smaller 
thau alead pencil. A trip into the country 
took me past the nest, and there amidst the 
dreary waste of ice sat the little bird faith- 
fully covering her three eggs. The nest 
lining, of fine dried grasses only,was most 
neatly woven and shaped to the walls of 
the cavity, and all, together with the eggs, 
was warm and ary despite the surroundings. 
The eggs, measuring about .82x.62, show 
smooth polished shell of greenish-white, 
sprinkled and speckled with olive-brown, 
heavily enough at larger end to constitute 
confluent marking and wholly obscure 
ground color. The unusually heavy mark- 
ing at the larger end is offset by the scanty 
marking elsewhere, so that on the whole, 
the eggs appear of an uncommonly light 
type and are very pleasing specimens. 
Minnewaukan, N. D. 
(To be continued.) 
Oe ——- 
Two Bute’s. 
BY J. C. GALLOWAY. 
T was one of those balmy spring days 
when the sky isas blue as the woods are 
 beautiful,that a gang of us young fellows, 
accompanied by two old gentlemen, onea 
life-long curio collector, the other with a 
penchant for hunting, were ranging the 
woods ostensibly in search of ‘‘specimens”’ 
for your humble servant; but really the 
enjoyment of the perfumed air, the bird- 
songs, the glint of sunshine and the rustle 
of the wind among the forest leaves. 
After the discovery of a nest of the Oven- 
bird, curiously arched and woven of yellow 
grasses, under a bending limb that had 
fallen from some huge tree over-head, we 
walked on ’till some one reported a large 
nest about forty feet up in a beech. One 
of the boys, a big strapping fellow anda 
good climber, ascended the tree and an- 
nounced: ‘‘I'wo young Buzzards.”’ 
“Buzzards,’’ ejaculated the old hunter, 
“do they stink?” 
“No,’’ returned my friend whose posi- 
tien in regard to this question of identifica- 
tion was similiar to his bodily location. 
“They ain’t Buzzards then,’’ growley 
the veteran, and the historian of the party 
lost no time in removing supernumerard 
garments and shinning up the tree. There 
in a bulky nest of sticks, all but hidden 
from below were two complacent young 
Red-tails, not unlike goslings, covered with 
compact yellowish down. 
Carrying them down Z/az tree was out of 
the question, so off came a shirt and after 
tying it up with the sleeves, the youngsters 
were placed unprotesting within and 
brought to the ground. While the sports- 
men waited in vain for the parents to re- 
turn, the young Hawks sat on the ground, 
while the male who appeared to be the 
brighter of the two, stumped around on 
his heels in a ludicrous manner, while we 
made frequent attempts to keep from 
snickering, until we all broke out in a 
general snort when the performance was 
more than we could endure in silence. 
Then we began the triumphal march home. 
In the woodshed a square of carpet was 
thrown over a barrel, letting it bag a little, 
and in this artificial nest the fledglings 
were placed and covered up each night 
until they rebelled and climbed on top of 
the covers. 
Their irides were a clear silver gray and 
remained so as long as I had them. 
At this time the primaries were one-half 
an inch long and encased in their blue in- 
tecuments. As the feathers grew longer 
the birds picked and tore off the coverings, 
drawing the denuded feathers through 
their bills to further clean them. 
It soon developed that it was to be no 
small matter to keep. them supplied with 
food enough to satisfy them, especially 
when a few days later, a dainty, fluffy in- 
nocent baby of a Barred Owl was added to 
this happy family. All sorts of fresh meats, 
birds, fish and reptiles, everything but tad- 
poles, disappeared with astonishing rapid- 
ity, often followed by the hungry squeals 
so discouraging to their purveyors. One 
of my friends made a raid on some corn- 
barrels and brought in fifty-seven mice, 
large and small, but they were all gone by 
II A. M., and there was music in the 
wood-shed once more. 
After several days of civilized life they 
began to get restless and used to lumber 
around the nest or stand on the edge and 
flap their now rapidly growing wings, 
while the quills began appearing on their 
bodies, and they lost some of their infantile 
