VII 

 DEVIOUS PATHS 



THERE is no better type or epitome of wild na- 

 ture than the bird's-nest — something built, 

 and yet as if it grew, a part of the ground, or of 

 the rock, or of the branch upon which it is placed; 

 beginning so coarsely, so iiTegularly, and ending 

 so finely and symmetrically; so unUke the work of 

 hands, and yet the result of a skill beyond hands; 

 and when it holds its complement of eggs, how pleas- 

 ing, how suggestive! 



The bird adapts means to an end, and yet so dif- 

 ferently from the way of man, — an end of which it 

 does not know the value or the purpose. We know 

 it is prompted to it by the instinct of reproduc- 

 tion. When the woodpecker in the fall excavates a 

 lodge in a dry limb, we know he is prompted to it 

 by the instinct of self-preservation, but the birds 

 themselves obey the behests of nature without know- 

 ledge. 



A bird's-nest suggests design, and yet it seems 



almost haphazard; the result of a kind of madness, 



yet with method in it. The hole the woodpecker 



drills for its cell is to the eye a perfect circle, and the 



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