ally called Bluebirds by the common 

 people. 



The nests of the Juncos are built in 

 a variety of places though they are 

 usually built on the ground, under the 

 protection of undergrowth or concealed 

 in tufts of grass. The nests may also 

 be placed in fallen tree-tops, among the 

 roots of fallen trees, under logs, in 

 crevices in banks, or even in bushes. 

 They also, though not commonly, nest 

 in buildings. Dr. Brewer speaks of 

 one instance when several Juncos nest- 

 ed in a woodshed connected with a 

 dwelling in Pictou, Nova Scotia. These 

 nests were within reach of the hand 

 and in a place where people were pas- 

 sing and repassing throughout the day. 

 The nests of the Juncos are usually 

 built of dry grasses, moss and rootlets 

 and well lined with fine grasses, fine 

 mosses and long animal hairs. Some- 

 times strips of fibrous bark, straw and 

 horsehair are used in the construction 



of the walls, and nests have been found, 

 the walls of which were made en- 

 tirely of animal hairs, and the lining, 

 of mosses and hair. 



In addition to their call-notes, the 

 Juncos have a very pretty song which 

 is only occasionally heard before the 

 birds leave us for their nesting places 

 in the far North. Mr. Nuttall speaks 

 of the song as consisting of "a few 

 sweet, clear, and tender notes, almost 

 similar to the touching warble of the 

 European robin redbreast." Another 

 observer speaks of it as ''a simple thrill, 

 and a faint, whispered warble, usually 

 much broken, but not without sweet- 

 ness." Florence A. Merriam calls the 

 Juncos ''Little gray-robed monks and 

 nuns," and also says: "The 'tsip of 

 the Junco is unmistakable and more 

 often heard than his song, but he has 

 both a trill and a low, sweet song as 

 unpretentious and cheery as the friend- 

 ly bird himself." 



ONE DAY. 



As fell the leaves, one day, one day, 



A crimson palace fashioned I ; 



My leafy ridges on the grass 



Were walls wherein a king might pass, 



My rooftree was the autumn sky, 

 One day, one day. 



As fell the rain, one day, one day. 

 My sodden walls it stained, it stained; 



Out of the north the cold wind crept. 



My palace halls were weather-swept, 

 A yellow scar alone remained. 

 One day, one day. 



As burst the buds, one day, one day, 

 I heard the happy bluebird sing; 



Out of the south a zephyr stole, 

 I sought my wound, I found it whole: 

 There is for every heart a spring, 

 Some far-off day. 



— George H. Maitland. 



