56 WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 
stealing on the air, the prisoners there grew so restless and 
looked so out of place in their bare wooden cages, that day 
by day compunctious visitings grew upon me, until one after 
one, with many a yearning sigh as I looked after them, all 
were turned loose upon the sunny earth again. I would be 
saddened for days to think of their ingratitude, for no one 
of them would ever come back to me again. 
Sorrows could not last long in those days. The sap run 
vigorously, and new pleasures soon grew over the old scars. 
My pets were all gone, but with the same spring that wooed 
their freedom came nesting time. 
Ah, what an eye I had for localities most apt to be selected 
by my wild favorites to build their homes in then! I was 
seldom taken by surprise in finding any nest. I could almost 
tell beforehand the very fork, thick clustered round with veil- 
ing leaves, in which Master Dandy Jay would wisely hide his 
clumsy house. 
I knew the very limb out near the end of which the Robin 
meant to build. I could tell the very stump or hollow which 
yonder twittering pair of Blue Birds would select—that is, 
if they didn’t choose a hole in the great gate-posts of the 
meadow. 
The blackberry thicket in the corner of the “worm fence” 
where the Brown Thrasher would build amidst sharp briars, 
I knew well of old; and the very pear tree top, or swinging 
locust in the yard, from which the Oriole, with black and 
golden coat, would hang its woven cradle, was prophetically 
foreshadowed. 
I knew the apple-tree in the orchard, too, that sober-coated 
reverend of jollity, the Parson Oriole, would be sure to select 
to preach his garrulous sermons of glee on, while his tender 
mate rocked pendent, listening from the same breezy bough. 
I could tell before I reached yonder dead young mulberry, 
whether \it was a Tom-Tit’s populous nursery that had filled 
that sap-sucker’s deserted chamber, or whether I might expect, 
