290 RIVEKBY 



them not. A robin would have knocked him off 

 his feet at her first dive. 



One is sometimes puzzled by seeing a punctured 

 egg lying upon the ground. One day I came near 

 stepping upon one that was lying in the path that 

 leads to the spring — a fresh egg with a little hole 

 in it carefully placed upon the gravel. I suspected 

 it to be the work of the cowbird, and a few days 

 later I had convincing proof that the cowbird is up 

 to this sort of thing. I was sitting in my summer 

 house with a book, when I had a glimpse of a bird 

 darting quickly down from the branches of the maple 

 just above me toward the vineyard, with something 

 in its beak. Eollowing up my first glance with 

 more deliberate scrutiny, I saw a female cowbird 

 alight upon the ground and carefully deposit some 

 small object there, and then, moving a few inches 

 away, remain quite motionless. Without taking my 

 eyes from the spot, I walked straight down there. 

 The bird flew away, and I found the object she had 

 dropped to be a little speckled bird's egg still warm. 

 I saw that it was the egg of the red-eyed vireo. It 

 was punctured with two holes where the bird had 

 seized it; otherwise it had been very carefully 

 handled. For some days I had been convinced that 

 a pair of vireos had a nest in my maple, but much 

 scrutiny had failed to reveal it to me. 



Only a few moments before the cowbird appeared 

 I had seen the happy pair leave the tree together, 

 flying to a clump of trees lower down the slope of 

 the hill. The female had evidently just deposited 



