THE TRAGEDIES OF THE NESTS 67 



indulging its propensity to peep and pry into holes 

 and crevices, alighted upon it and probably in- 

 spected the interior; but by some unlucky move it 

 got its wings entangled in this same fatal horse-hair. 

 Its efforts to free itself appeared only to result in 

 its being more securely and hopelessly bound; and 

 there it perished; and there its form, dried and 

 embalmed by the summer heats, was yet hanging 

 in September, the outspread wings and plumage 

 showing nearly as bright as in life. 



A correspondent writes me that one of his orioles 

 got entangled in a cord while building her nest, 

 and that, though by the aid of a ladder he reached 

 and liberated her, she died soon afterward. He 

 also found a "chippie" (called also "hair-bird") 

 suspended from a branch by a horse-hair, beneath 

 a partly-constructed nest. I heard of a cedar-bird 

 caught and destroyed in the same way, and of two 

 young bluebirds, around whose legs a horse-hair 

 had become so tightly wound that the legs withered 

 up and dropped off. The birds became fledged, 

 and finally left the nest with the others. Such 

 tragedies are probably quite common. 



Before the advent of civilization in this country, 

 the oriole probably built a much deeper nest than 

 it usually does at present. When now it builds in 

 remote trees and along the borders of the woods, 

 its nest, I have noticed, is long and gourd-shaped; 

 but in orchards and near dwellings it is only a deep 

 cup or pouch. It shortens it up in proportion as 

 the danger lessens. Probably a succession of disas- 



