UNDER THE APPLE-TREES 
the other hand, plants and animals overfed or 
exceptionally prosperous seem to forget the primal 
command. 
The birds, I repeat, are not easily discouraged. 
In April of the past year a pair of phache-birds built 
their exquisite mossy nest in a niche in the rocks at 
the entrance to my natural ccllar at Slabsides. It 
was a nest in the best style of the phcebe’s art, built 
unhurriedly, as all first nests of the season usually 
are. Like the plant, the bird does not hurry till the 
season gets late. One snow-white egg was laid, when, 
on a visit to me of some schoolboys, the nest acci- 
dentally came to grief; it was detached from the 
rock upon which the bird had so carefully masoned 
it. I replaced the nest, but its foundations had been 
loosened, and the winds dislodged it. The phcoebes 
then began a nest on a timber under the little shed. 
One day I found this dislodged and its material 
pulled apart on the ground beneath. Who or what 
Vandal or Hun of the woods did it, whether a red 
squirrel or an owl or other violator of its neighbor’s 
rights, I know not. But the pheebes did not lose heart. 
When I discovered the second calamity that had 
befallen them, they were already at work building 
the third nest, and — what was very unusual — were 
using the material of the nest just destroyed. Bit by 
bit the mother bird was gathering it up and recon- 
structing her “procreant cradle.” I hoped a third 
disaster would not befall the pair, and it did not, 
70 
