84 THE CITY OF THE BIRDS. 



Quails sometimes " count their chickens before 

 they are hatched," and it happened so in this case. 

 Her possession had indeed departed, but they 

 went away too soon, and on feet that belonged not 

 to those of the partridge family. 



Nicely lodged in a patch of "bear bed " by the 

 edge of a young growth of Oaks and birches, is the 

 home of the towhee bunting. A low blueberry 

 bush spreads its leaves over the roofless house 

 and a sprig or two of prince's pine grows before 

 the door. The dry fallen leaves immediately sur- 

 rounding the nest appeared to have been pressed 

 down and glued together, and the odds and ends 

 close to the finely finished rim are well fastened 

 with saliva, as though the bird liked to have every- 

 thing trim and tidy around her dwelling. In the 

 quite deep, exquisitely-turned cavity, lined with 

 pine "spills" and old fruiting moss stems, lie 

 four eggs, so thickly covered with light pinkish 

 specks, that the dirty, white ground-color is 

 scarcely distinguishable unless the shell is closely 

 examined. ' 



The female is sitting, and so firmly does the 

 strange spell of incubation hold her that a very 

 near approach is necessary to compel her to break 

 it. If your foot passes beyond a certain boundary 

 line, however, she considers the act a violation of 

 the towhee law, and so leaves you alone in tres- 

 passes and sin, by gliding through the saplings, 



