ered on the outside with the refuse from 

 the woolen mills and so nicely lined with 

 little rootlets, was the home of the king- 

 bird. It was built in an apple tree under 

 which a friend of mine on warm even- 

 ings sat to milk his cow. The mother 

 bird did not like one so near her home, 

 and, flying at him, knocked off his hat. 

 That was more than my friend could 

 calmly endure, so he immediately took 

 the nest from the tree and sent it to me. 

 A dear price the mother paid for just 

 showing her natural disposition. 



Beside the kingbird's home is the 

 lichen-covered home of the phoebe, a soft 

 home indeed for little babies. This nest, 

 too, has a history. It was built on the 

 stove pipe in my school room during the 

 hours when the room was deserted by 

 the children. The birds entered through 

 a broken window light, but when the 

 time for incubation arrived the mother 

 bird could not endure the noisy school 

 room; so all her labor had been in vain 

 and she sought a quieter place to rear her 

 young. 



During a severe windstorm this dear 

 little dainty nest of the least flycatcher 

 was blown from the tree, babies and all. 

 The nest is made of vegetable fiber and 

 feathers, a dear little home. One of the 

 baby birds lived with us for a time, but 

 it was a constant care, always ready to 

 eat. The large number of flies it put out 

 of sight seemed wonderful to us and 

 gave us a little insight into the busy life 

 of a mother bird with a nest full of hun- 

 gry babes to care for. 



This box contains the pensile nests of 

 the vireos, so daintily made of birch bark 

 and lined with pine needles. They are 

 all quite similar in appearance and each 

 hung from the fork of a tree. The soli- 

 tary builds in the wood on a low bush, 

 while the red and white eye build higher 

 up, often in the maples near our home. 



The warbling builds higher still, often 

 in a poplar. But all are such pretty 

 basket-like homes ! And fine neighbors 

 they are, too, singing constantly. 



Of course Lord Baltimore builds the 

 model hanging nest, but he belongs to 

 another family and I think feels justly 

 proud of his nicely constructed home, 

 when he compares it with the other 

 members of his family, the blackbirds, 

 meadow larks and bobolinks, all of whom 

 make their homes on the ground in the 

 grasses. The blackbirds build in low 

 bushes. Their nests are loosely woven 

 structures, not at all like those of the 

 oriole. 



We have time for only a glance at 

 these little warblers' nests. They are 

 quite similar in appearance, all being 

 made of vegetable fiber lined with feath- 

 ers. The prettiest one of all was made 

 by the little yellow warbler ; it looked, as 

 I first saw it on the back of the tree down 

 by the river side, like a bunch of cotton. 

 I just longed to take it then when it was 

 all so fresh and dainty; but of course 

 I had to leave it until the birds deserted 

 it for a sojourn to the south. The black- 

 burnian and pine warblers build in pine 

 trees ; the black and white warbler on the 

 ground and the little redstarts, in the 

 woods by the mill pond. This Maryland 

 yellow throat's is perhaps the most inter- 

 esting of all my deserted homes. It is a 

 two-story dwelling, each story contain- 

 ing a cowbird's tgg. We trust their next 

 home building was more satisfactory. 



We might go on and on. Each nest has 

 its own family history, but haven't you 

 become a little interested already, so that 

 when the sun once more shines, drying 

 the grass and foliage, you, too, will like 

 to watch the home making of our bird 

 friends ? Then as you get the family his- 

 tories you will like to take the abandoned 

 homes and study them still more. 



Rest H. Metcalf. 



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