Song Birds and Water Fowl 



a female that was arranging the frail foundation, 

 about twelve feet from the ground, in a horn- 

 beam tree. As soon as her sharp eyes discov- 

 ered that she was being watched, she darted off; 

 and, from the torrent of sharp notes I heard im- 

 mediately afterward, I felt that she was cursing 

 me to her mate, to the best of her ability, which 

 is by no means inconsiderable in such cases ; so, 

 with the uncomfortable feeling that I was very 

 much in the way, I withdrew. A few days later 

 1 found that she had recovered her temper, and 

 completed the structure, a very neat and com- 

 pact apartment of delicate material, whose 

 existence was likely to remain a secret be- 

 tween us three. 



An ornithologist must often inscribe an in- 

 terrogation mark upon his memory, sometimes 

 waiting a long time before he can erase it. In 

 this ramble I erased one of mine; for I heard 

 a song which I recognized as the same that I 

 heard two years before, when I vainly tried to 

 find its source. But on this occasion I found 

 it — like the poet who very irrationally shot an 

 arrow into the air — " in the heart of a friend," 

 and, in fact, in his mouth; for it was the 

 chewink chanting a little melody that I did not 

 know was in his repertoire. While uncertainty 



