100 HOMING WITH THE BIRDS 



was attracted by the alarm cries of grosbeaks and 

 scarlet tanagers, while from the ground I could 

 hear the feeble cries of young in distress. I was 

 not prepared for field work but I entered the 

 swamp, balancing myself from hummock to hum- 

 mock and walking on old logs and fallen branches, 

 where a short search revealed one young grosbeak 

 and one scarlet tanager. There remained traces 

 of the grosbeak nest in a thicket of wild grape 

 vines but I could not find the location of the 

 tanager nest. The frail tree with the vines creep- 

 ing over it was too light to bear my weight. To 

 leave the young birds meant for them to flutter 

 into the water or be trampled by cattle, which 

 frequently made mad rushes through the vines 

 to rid themselves of the torment of flies settling 

 on their backs, so I carried the nestlings home in 

 my hands. 



That night I read in a work on ornithology that 

 a young hawk taken from his nest of large sticks 

 and coarse rough material and put in a soft nest 

 would die miserably. The following morning I 

 returned to the swamp with a ladder. There had 

 been some woodland tragedy other than the storm. 

 The grosbeak nest contained one baby, dead and 

 badly abused, so I carefully cut away the sur- 

 rounding vines and brought the cradle home to 

 my birds. Then for ten days, in the midst of my 

 busiest season afield, I stopped every fifteen min- 

 utes to feed those two youngsters a mixture of equal 



