We do not really know a bird till we have 

 found its nest and seen it at home. When I came 

 upon the nest of the snowbird in the midst of a 

 clearing in the mountains, it was like visiting the 

 house for the first time of one I had known for 

 years — a person of some distinction at that. It 

 was placed high and dry on a tussock in a flaming 

 patch of hawkweed. She had an eye for the 

 praftical, and knew better than to put her house 

 where the cellar might be flooded. The four 

 greenish mottled eggs were her one priceless treas- 

 ure, which was to her as life itself. They were 

 warm, and the whole aspedt of the nest was sweet 

 and inviting. It appeared to breathe some femi- 

 nine element, so dainty was it, so begirt with 

 flowers. 



A humming-bird's nest that I have been watch- 

 ing the present season is placed on a pitch pine- 

 cone, and appears to a casual view to be the cone 

 itself It seems as if the bird had it in mind to 

 simulate this or she would not have chosen such 

 a peculiar site, for it affords no advantage from a 

 structural point of view. If this be true it is a de- 

 parture from all traditions, and shows a bird of 

 some character and originality. In other respeds 

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