178 IN BIRD LAND. 



fastened to the twigs by the rim, without any support 

 below, swinging there like a dainty basket. Pres- 

 ently I got my glass on the bird herself, and found her 

 to be a red-eyed vireo. That was my first nest of this 

 species, and proud enough I was of the discovery. 

 The outside of the little cot was prettily ornamented 

 with tufts of spider-webs. As usual with this bird, a 

 piece of white paper was wrought into the lower 

 part of the nest. Three vireo's eggs and one cow- 

 bunting's lay in the bottom of the cup. 



Every few days I called on the bird, going close 

 enough only to see her plainly, without driving her 

 off the nest. She made a pretty picture sitting 

 there, one fit for an artist's brush, with her head 

 and tail pointing almost straight up, her body grace- 

 fully curved to fit the deep little basket, and her 

 eyes growing large and wild at her visitor's approach. 

 At length, one day, I felt sure there must be little 

 ones in the nest, and so I went very close to her; 

 yet she did not fly. Then I moved my hand toward 

 her, and finally touched her back before she flitted 

 away. A featherless cow-bunting lay in the ham- 

 mock, but the vireo's eggs were not yet hatched. 

 A few days later the nest was robbed. Some heart- 

 less villain, probably a blue jay, had destroyed all 

 the children. I could have wept, so keen was my 

 sense of bereavement. 



The cow-buntings imposed a great deal on other 

 kind-hearted bird parents that spring. Almost every 

 nest contained one or two of this interloper's eggs, 

 and, as if Nature abetted the designs of the parasite, 



