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JOURNAL OF MAINE ORNITHOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



we see at the foot of this old decayed 

 stub? A fallen tree-top rather ob- 

 structs our view, but we see tail 

 feathers protruding up against the 

 trunk and as we kneel to peer through 

 the brush, we catch a pair of eyes. 

 Not a move, not so much as a wink! 

 Still as a mounted bird this little 

 mother sits on her eleven brown 

 beauties, which are about to give 

 forth eleven little, fluffy, yellow, 

 downy sprites, which will out of the 

 nest and dart under a green leaf, 

 with a flea-like movement, in a few 

 days. This is a female Canada Ruffed 

 Grouse (Bonasa umbellus togata). 

 She allows us to kneel before her only 

 a few feet away. With a sad, startled 

 look in her pretty eyes, she reluctant- 

 ly leaves the nest and flies off into a 

 thick clump of bushes beyond, scatter- 

 ing the dry leaves about the nest, and 

 over the eggs, nearly concealing them 

 from our view. A little cry from the 

 clump where she flew, nearby, warns 

 us that the mother bird is anxious to 

 return to her treasures, lest they get 

 damp and cold. Not for the world 

 would we detain her, so we hasten our 

 steps toward our hawk's nest, which 

 we believe to be in that old, yellow 

 birch that leans out over the brook, a 

 few rods hence. 



As we approach this tree we can see 

 through the young leaves a large nest 

 of sticks and twigs. Stealthily we 

 creep along, as we near the tree, 

 a hawk, perched on a tall stub be- 

 yond, gives utterance to a warning 

 cry, and the other bird (female, we 

 presume) silently leaves the nest. 9nd 

 together they cross the stream to the 

 other side, and remain in silence. We 

 can see the green hemlock twigs and 

 strips of yellow birch bark, witll 

 which they are relining this old nest 

 We presume the boy will allow 

 them to hatch the single egg they 

 will lay in this nest, undisturbed, so 

 not quite discouraged, they will re- 



turn another year. As we stand gaz- 

 ing at this nest, we see a crow Corvus 

 americanus) noiselessly flap through 

 among the tree-tops, to a tall hem- 

 lock nearby. In silence we watch 

 her, for she has food in her month. 

 She goes to a bulky nest of sticks and 

 dead bark, part way up the hemlock. 

 Perched on the edge of the nest, with 

 our glass we watch her deposit food 

 in the mouth of her young. We are 

 well concealed behind a thick clump 

 of spruce bushes, or her quick eye 

 w T ould have detected us. 



Carefully she re-arranged a bit of 

 the bark lining the nest. This is 

 nothing but a black crow, but see how 

 she fondles those, little, ungainly nes- 

 tlings! Are they not as dear to her 

 as though they never would have an 

 appetite for corn? Did they not re- 

 ceive their liking for corn from the 

 same source that man received it 

 from? Is it such a sin to like corn? 

 Are there not beings of a higher or- 

 der who have a strong liking for corn 

 and its various products? At first, as 

 we watched the crow, perched on her 

 nest, we were tempted to raise the 

 gun and shoot. It seemed to be the 

 natural thing to do, but as we watch- 

 ed her feed her helpless young, and 

 caught in her eye that wary, hunted 

 look, our hearts softened toward the 

 crow, and were there a bounty on 

 crow's heads, we would not take from 

 the young nestlings their mother. 

 Not even to hear the farmer, whose 

 long rows of corn stretched beside 

 the stream, say: "I'm right glad you 

 got that old black fellow," would we 

 shoot this bird. Silently she leaves 

 her nest and young and flies off for 

 more food, for there are five young 

 with growing appetites in this nest. 

 Suddenly, from over the brook, ripples 

 a wild, bubbling song, and such a 

 song! Positively nothing like it any- 

 where! It gushes on. Will it never 

 stop? Judging from the volume of it, 



