250 THE NEST. 
ficiency of tools, and in this rude effort of concentration and kneading 
by the mere pressure of the breast. The mother does not trust to 
the male bird for all this; but she employs him as her purveyor. 
He goes in quest of the materials—grasses, mosses, roots, or branches. 
But when the ship is built, when the interior has to be arranged— 
the couch, the household furniture—the matter becomes more difficult. 
Care must be taken that the former be fit to receive an egg peculiarly 
sensitive to cold, every chilled point of which means for the little 
one a dead limb. That little one will be born naked. Its stomach, 
closely folded to the mother’s, will not fear the cold; but the back, 
still bare, will only be warmed by the bed; the mother’s 
precaution and anxiety are, therefore, not easily satisfied. 
The husband brings her some horse-hair, but it is too 
hard ; it will only serve as an under-stratum, a sort of 
elastic mattress. He brings hemp, but that is too 
cold; only the silk or silky fibre of certain 
plants, wool or cotton, are admissible ; or better 
still, her own feathers, her own down, which 
she plucks away, and deposits under the nursling. ~ 
It is interesting to watch the male bird’s skil- 
ful and furtive search for materials; he is ap- 
prehensive lest you should learn, by watching 
him with your eyes, the track to his nest. 
Frequently, if you look at him, he will take a 
different road, to deceive you. A hundred 
ingenious little thefts respond to the mother’s 
desire. He will follow the sheep 
to collect a little wool. From the 
poultry-yard he will gather the drop- 
ped feathers of the mother hen. If 
the farmer's wife quit for a 
moment her seat in the porch, 
and leave behind her distaff 
or ball of thread, he 9 it~. 
