FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



tree, standing a hundred feet away, lit on the 

 rim of the already large nest (as large as a half- 

 bushel basket, I said half an hour later, when I 

 went under the tree to inspect it), and carefully 

 worked the twig into its place in the wall. 



For the three quarters of an hour that I re- 

 mained she and her mate were insight the greater 

 part of the time. Twice, at least, another stick 

 was added to the nest ; but in general both birds 

 did nothing in particular, and to my disappoint- 

 ment had practically nothing to say. Perhaps it 

 was because of a stranger's presence; but I 

 doubt it ; they showed no concern, nor even 

 curiosity, about him, as he stood, glass in hand, 

 under the cypress. More likely (at high noon, the 

 sky cloudless) it was their quiet hour. 



Greedily my eyes fed upon them. Not that they 

 were handsomer, or better, or intrinsically more 

 interesting than forty other birds ; but they were 

 what I had been seeking ; they were rare, or so I 

 thought ; they had cost me labor; the sight of them 

 had been more than once almost despaired of. 



A hummingbird was every minute or two buzz- 

 ing in the branches directly over my head, but 

 at first I could not look up. (She, too, was build- 

 ing a nest. I saw it half an hour later.) The 

 woman sang to her baby ; I could hear all the 

 while the rhythmical creak of the cradle or the 

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