too IN BIRD LAND. 



" would you like to see it ? " Tired out as I was 

 with my long walk, I exclaimed : " Yes, sir ! I '11 

 follow you to the end of the world to see a plover's 

 nest." The sentence was added merely by way of 

 mild (not wild) hyperbole. A shallow pit in the 

 open corn-field, lined with a few chips and pebbles, 

 constituted the nest of the plover, not having so 

 much as a spear of grass to protect it from rain and 

 storm. It contained one egg and a callow youngster, 

 the egg being quite large at one end and pointed at 

 the other, which gave it a very uncouth shape. My 

 young friend informed me that there had been five 

 eggs when he found the nest, all lying with their 

 acute ends toward the centre ; the next time he 

 went to look there were only four, then three, and 

 finally only two. Evidently the parent birds were 

 having a serious time guarding their homestead from 

 marauders. On going to the place some days later, 

 I found both the egg and the baby plover gone, and 

 I could only hope that no mischance had befallen 

 them. 



Strange as it may seem, the winter is a favorable 

 se.ison for nest-hunting. True, the birds are not 

 then at home, to speak with a good deal of license, 

 or engaged in rearing families ; but the deserted 

 structures may be more readily found after the 

 leaves have fallen from the trees and bushes. As I 

 stroll through the woods or the marsh on a winter 

 day, scores of nests that escaped my eye during the 

 summer are to be seen. Especially is this the case 

 after a snowfall, for the nests catch the descending 



