upon the nest. She remained fifteen min- 

 utes and then left the little home for just 

 three minutes. Her companion went 

 thither, standing upon the edge of the 

 nest. For an instant it seemed that he 

 was about to get into the nest, but he 

 did not. This was the first time he had 

 been seen even to touch it, and this was 

 but for a moment. After his mate re- 

 turned he took her food. He did not sing. 

 Once he drove another bird from the tree. 

 Here were four unusual conditions. What 

 did they signify? 



A baby, of course ! When the student 

 climbed to get a peep into the home that 

 day the nest was suddenly converted into 

 one great yawning mouth, which so 

 startled him that he almost fell from the 

 tree. 



By this time the bird students had four 

 sets of infants to look out for besides 

 their own. 



It was not until the tenth visit to the 

 vireo nest that the identity of the bird be- 

 came settled. On that occasion the ob- 

 server climbed the tree when the parents 

 were close to the nest. Their alarm was 

 very great. They uttered cries not before 

 heard and came so close to the invader 

 that the red in their eyes was plainly 

 visible. It was quite a relief to the stu- 

 dents, who had always believed the ruby 

 color to exist. 



The ground beneath that little home 

 became familiar and beloved to the chil- 

 dren, who made a garden there, plowing 

 it with sticks and planting with pebbles. 

 As to the red-eyed vireo, they say they 

 have never seen one, but they claim own- 

 ership in the nest which on July i was 

 carried home attached to the forked 

 branch from which it swung. The 

 little twigs are not more than half the 

 size of an ordinary lead pencil. The nest 

 contained two unhatched eggs; white, 

 thickly spotted with brown. 



The children are wondering why the 

 birds did not make little birds out of 

 those eggs. Not being familiar with the 

 laws of society, they are inquiring also 

 why mother cannot climb a tree. 



VI. 



When in the spring the two enthusi- 

 astic bird lovers were watching the move- 

 ments of a pair of wood-thrushes, they 



longed to hear the song of those sweet- 

 mannered birds, feeling that the music 

 from such throats would crown their 

 summer with delight. Before the coming 

 of August, that month of "universal 

 brooding stillness," the longed-for strain 

 — "the golden trillide-de" — had become 

 familiar. It was music of the diviner 

 kind. How often the notes fell upon the 

 ear! But the hearers ceased to be con- 

 tent. They had had a taste of glory and 

 they began to look forward to the vespers" 

 of the veery and the holy chants of the 

 hermit thrush — that little angel of the 

 swamp. 



There was one outing a happy day in 

 July, when the family spent a day in a 

 country place upon the shores of Lake 

 Erie. At that time they experienced a 

 great disappointment and a great pleas- 

 ure. A real woods was there, a sort of 

 forest primeval with the wild buffalo 

 and wolves left out. The underbrush 

 and vines were so thick and the hillside 

 so treacherous that when the family 

 started out for an afternoon ramble they 

 had an afternoon scramble instead. The 

 children could not make their way at all 

 and had to be carried. But the birds 

 were there, and, careless of consequences, 

 were alluring the travelers on and on 

 down the slope which they must needs 

 climb again, babies and all. 



Catbirds, wood thrushes, vireos, pe- 

 wees, yellow warblers, rose-breasted gros- 

 beaks, brown thrashers and song spar- 

 rows were all there; grouped together 

 now, instead of being separated by miles 

 and days. Here was a catbird's nest with 

 its matchless green eggs, from the 

 branches above swung a vireos cradle, 

 and there in a bush was a beautiful nest 

 of the warbler type, having in it the egg 

 of a cowbird. Close by flitted and talked 

 two redstarts, male and female, one in a 

 charming suit of black and salmon and 

 the other equally attractive in brown and 

 yellow. (Not a red feather anywhere to 

 excuse the stupidity of calling them red 

 tails.) 



Just beneath the redstarts a tawny 

 thrush-like bird was darting in and out 

 of a raspberry bush. The hearts of the 

 beholders stood still ! Could it be a 

 veery? They watched breathless, then 

 crept closer to see the nest, which they 

 found about a foot from the srround. It 



221 



