WOOD NOTES AND NEST HUNTING. Ill 



is, silence. He is hilarious, even while engaged in 

 his responsibilities, and thus, by his incessant sing- 

 ing, is apt to betray his presence to passing marau- 

 ders. How curious are the ways of Nature, in this 

 example of the male sitting on the eggs ! I be- 

 lieve not many of our birds have this instinct, 

 although the husbands are usually thoughtful in 

 providing their mates with food during this tedious 

 season. 



As I bend the slender tree, and stand on tiptoe 

 to extract an egg from the shallow cavity, his 

 joyous note is changed to one of anxiety. If you 

 pause, however, to analyze it, you will find nothing 

 disagreeable in his alarm. He cannot scold you 

 away, for his larynx is not formed to produce 

 harsh sounds, like the cat-bird, robin, or even the 

 sparrow to which he is more closely related. This 

 seed, which I trust will blossom into a rose-breasted 

 songster, is rather large for the size of the bird 

 — firm-shelled, and colored similarly to many of 

 the finches ; namely, a dull, greenish-blue, covered 

 thickly with light-brown blotches. What a pretty 

 thing is a bird's egg, so exquisitely moulded, so 

 uniquely painted and figured by the handiwork of 

 Nature, and presenting such a nice adaptation of 

 means to the end in view ! What harmony and 



