BIRDS’ NESTS. 
91 
tendencies to desert their young if meddled 
with ; hut often, after taking one or even 
two eggs from a nest, I have watched the 
quiet return of the parent, and the success- 
ful hatching of those left. The further that 
the stage of motherhood progresses, the more 
persevering feathered mothers become ; but 
at all times persistent visiting or intrusion 
annoys them. 
The appeal of a brave, affectionate bird, 
when brooding over her young, is very touch- 
ing, but it is too often disregarded. Few 
persons know the trials of bird life. Many 
hundred times have I watched the smaller 
birds in spring during the course of their 
domestic life ; and I remember but very few 
instances in which the parents seemingly 
had uninterrupted success from the begin- 
ning, when the foundations of their nurser- 
ies were laid, until all their young were 
reared. I distinctly recall only half a dozen 
cases. The parents’ chief enemies are the 
weather, snakes (especially the black-snake), 
various other birds, such as crows, blue jays, 
crow blackbirds, and cuckoos, the tree-squir- 
rels (but not the little striped ground-squir- 
rel or “chipmunk”), and cats. The cat,, 
while it is always a graceful and some- 
times a useful animal, is, just in the pro- 
portion that it is a good rnouser, also a 
skillful bird-catcher, and does much mis- 
chief on a country place. 
The nests which one finds in fields and 
pastures on the ground are generally those 
of the sparrows. They are all much alike- 
slight hollows, protected or partly conceal- 
ed by a bush, hummock, or clump of grass, 
and in most cases lined very neatly with 
hairs, though dry grass, etc., almost invari- 
ably enter into their composition. If tak- 
en up for p reservation, they must be dug up 
with a little of the earth about them, as 
otherwise they fall to pieces. All nests are 
naturally in better condition for a collection 
when just finished, but fine specimens may 
often be obtained when vacated by the 
young, while a few are capable of with- 
standing exposure to weather for a consider- 
able time. They should be taken with their 
immediate surroundings, whether branches, 
.twigs, or earth, and handled very carefully. 
In the house, they should be repaired, if 
damaged, by stitching or gluing; should be 
kept free from dust, for if once dirty, they 
can not be cleaned without injury; and if 
partly composed of feathers or woolly matter, 
should be occasionally wetted with benzine. 
Among the ground-nesting birds there are 
in Massachusetts no less than nine species 
of sparrows, some of which commonly make 
their homes in fields or pastures; I shall 
therefore enter into no details. But a curi- 
ous fact, which illustrates the frequent de- 
parture from types or rules in nature, is that 
the common chipping sparrows, or “haw- 
birds,” have been known to build on the 
ground, though they usually build several 
feet above it, in a bush, hedge, tree, or vine. 
There is little of interest to keep us in the 
hot fields on a warm day in the last week 
of May, and I pass on to the meadows. On 
their borders, in the fields where the longest 
grass grows, is a nest Avhich you must hunt 
long for before finding — that of the bobo- 
link. In the elm-tree is the jolly male, in 
his summer livery of black, buff, and white, 
and singing as if he could not contain him- 
self. Still caroling, he spreads his wings 
and drops into the grass. We can not see 
from here what he is doing ; he may be whis- 
pering to his plainly colored mate, or he may 
be feeding. Long before we are near enough 
to surprise him, could we do so under any 
circumstances, he springs up, and sings as 
if he asked us to stand and listen. Looking 
for his nest in this wide field is like search- 
ing for a needle in a haymow. Should the 
female suddenly rise within ten feet of us, 
she may have wandered from her eggs for a 
moment, finding her mate inattentive in pro- 
viding her with food, or she may have tried 
to deceive us by stealing from them through 
the grass, and flying up at a distance; but 
no, she has staid at the post of danger until 
the last minute, ’twixt hope and fear, and 
springs up at our feet. There, in a little 
hollow, which has been warmly bedded, and 
over which the long grass waves, lie four 
grayish or greenish eggs, mottled with dark 
brown. Look at them quickly, and then let 
us go to the meadows. 
As we splash through the wet places, and 
jump the ditches, a general chatter arises, 
and half a dozen blackbirds with brilliant 
red patches on their wings present them- 
selves. These are the males ; but there is 
a female, who leaves her nest every minute, 
returning immediately, and who betrays its 
position by her anxiety. She is plainly col- 
ored, streaked, and much smaller than the 
male. Her nest, in this hummock, happens 
to be cup-shaped, and carefully finished with 
fresh-looking bits of dry stalks and grasses. 
The eggs in it'are pale blue, with dark spots 
and scrawls. I have said, in the last sen- 
tence, “ happens to be” so and so, because, of 
other swamp blackbirds’ nests in the same 
meadow, some are probably lined with root- 
lets, some with hairs, and others are built 
in bushes. If we extended our examination 
to other meadows in different localities, we 
should find great variety in positions, struc- 
ture, and material. Some specimens from 
bushes are composed partly of sticks ; oth- 
ers, from the sea-shore, are made chiefly from 
sea-wrack or eel-grass. Mr. Maynard de- 
scribes one built in a tree, fifteen feet above 
the ground, and pensile like that of the gold- 
en robin or hang-bird. Not only do sur- 
rounding circumstances produce an effect 
every where, but individual birds vary in 
their architectural skill or care. Moreover, 
