THE BLACK-THROATED BLUE 

 WAEBLER 



A SEARCH FOE A RARE NEST 



T HAD set out in hopes of finding a rare nest, 

 — the nest of the black-throated blue-backed 

 warbler, which, it seemed, with one or two others, 

 was still wanting to make the history of our 

 warblers complete. The woods were extensive, 

 and full of deep, dark tangles, and looking for 

 any particular nest seemed about as hopeless a 

 task as searching for a needle in a haystack, as 

 the old saying is. Where to begin, and how? 

 But the principle is the same as in looking for a 

 hen's nest, — first find your bird, then watch its 

 movements. 



The bird is in these woods, for I have seen 

 him scores of times, but whether he builds high or 

 low, on the ground or in the trees, is all unknown 

 to me. That is his song now, — " twe-twea-twe- 

 e-e-a," with a peculiar summer languor and plain- 

 tiveness, and issuing from the lower branches 

 and growths. Presently we — for I have been 

 joined by a companion — discover the bird, a 

 male, insecting in the top of a newly fallen hem- 

 lock. The black, white, and blue of his uniform 



