THE BLACK-THROATED BLUE WARBLER 105 



Their distress was pitiful. They threw themselves 

 on the ground at our very feet, and fluttered, and 

 cried, and trailed themselves before us, to draw us 

 away from the place, or distract our attention 

 from the helpless young. I shall not forget the 

 male bird, how bright he looked, how sharp the 

 contrast as he trailed his painted plumage there 

 on the dry leaves. Apparently he was seriously dis- 

 abled. He would start up as if exerting every mus- 

 cle to fly away, but no use ; down he would come, 

 with a helpless, fluttering motion, before he had 

 gone two yards, and apparently you had only to go 

 and pick him up. But before you could pick him 

 up, he had recovered somewhat and flown a lit- 

 tle farther ; and thus, if you were tempted to follow 

 him, you would soon find yourself some distance 

 from the scene of the nest, and both old and young 

 well out of your reach. The female bird was not 

 less solicitous, and practiced the same arts upon us 

 to decoy us away, but her dull plumage rendered 

 her less noticeable. The male was clad in holiday 

 attire, but his mate in an every-day working-garb. 

 The nest was built in the fork of a little hem- 

 lock, about fifteen inches from the ground, and 

 was a thick, firm structure, composed of the finer 

 material of the woods, with a lining of very del- 

 icate roots or rootlets. There were four young 

 birds and one addled egg. 



