NEST-HUNTING. 105 



bird fly into a clump of blackberry bushes one day, 

 I took it for a female indigo-bird. A nest was soon 

 found woven very neatly and compactly, and having 

 not only grass- fibres wrought into its structure, but 

 also wool and thistle-down. A queer indigo-bird's 

 nest, I mused. The wool in the cup was ruffled 

 and loose, and taking it for a deserted homestead, I 

 carelessly thrust my hand into it. The next moment 

 I was sorry for the thoughtless act, for the material 

 looked so fresh that I decided it must be an unfin- 

 ished bird-cradle. I resolved to discover the own- 

 ers, if possible. Two days later it was in the same 

 condition. Had I driven away the little builders 

 by laying defiling hands on the nest? I felt like a 

 culprit, and waited a week before again venturing to 

 visit the place, when, as I approached, a female gold- 

 finch flew from the nest, uncovering five dainty 

 white eggs, set like pearls in the bottom of the cup. 

 \K goldfinch's nest in a blackberry bush ! That was 

 a climax of surprises, in very truth. 



On the same day, not far distant, another bush- 

 sparrow's nest was found in some bushes, placed 

 about three feet from the ground. In a few weeks 

 there were babies five in the goldfinch's nest, and 

 four in that of the bush-sparrow. Pray keep both 

 nests in mind, remembering that the youngsters of 

 both families were hatched on the same day. One 

 evening at twilight I again stepped out to the clover- 

 field. The mother goldfinch was sitting close on her 

 nest, and did not stir as I came near. Then I 

 touched her lightly with my cane. Still she remained 



