94 
HARPER’S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 
so graceful, that I am tempted to stand here 
gazing much longer than I ought. Birds’ 
homes vary in attractiveness like those of 
men, and before leaving the swamp I will 
show you another Wilson thrush’s nest. 
Here it is, set among the dead leaves, near 
the toot of a tree. I need hardly point out 
to you its comparison with the other ; the 
situation is quite cheerless, and the nest is 
coarse. You may attribute this, as you 
please, to laziness, indifference, want of 
taste, inexperience, or to necessity and dif- 
ficulties. The contrast is striking, and is 
one of the innumerable illustrations of the 
infinite variety in nature. 
I shall now direct your steps toward a 
dry, hilly tract of low oaks, birches, and 
bushes, which is called the “ scrub” — a place 
where but few years ago stood a forest of 
pines. There we are likely to find nests of 
only two kinds on the ground (unless we 
find one of the ruffed grouse), and of these 
the eggs are often very closely alike. The 
birds belonging to them are both about the 
size of the robin. The brown thrushes 
have long tails, and are bright reddish- 
brown above, and beneath white, with dark 
streaks on the breast. There is nothing re- 
markable in their nests, but the conduct of 
the females is often surprising, particularly 
when their nests are in bushes (being almost 
always on or near the ground), for these 
birds are peculiarly at home in shrubbery. 
Though habitually rather shy, yet they are 
sometimes very bold when sitting. More 
than one young collector must have had 
the experience of being a little frightened 
when, literally hissing, they have refused to 
leave their nest, and much startled when, 
on being attacked, they have flown at him 
with vehemence. Such conduct, however, 
is rare, and of course causes no danger. 
Mr. Allen mentions the nest of a brown 
thrush found in the West at an unusual 
height from the ground, because built be- 
side a river which was often flooded sud- 
denly and heavily. The bird or its ances- 
tors profited by experience. This perhaps 
illustrates how types may be lost. If birds, 
for instance, of any species are driven by 
unfavorable changes into a tract of country 
with very uniform characteristics, they soon 
adapt their habits to their surroundings, 
perhaps losing marked traits. This ques- 
tion will be considered again, in reference 
to the swallows. 
The towliee buntings, also called clie- 
winks and ground -robins, do not behave 
like the brown thrushes, but usually con- 
ceal their nests. Sometimes a place is chos- 
en where dead leaves and switches have 
accumulated, and either partly under the 
leaves, or actually in a pile of brush, the 
nest is built so as to escape all notice of the 
passer-by. At other times the nest may be 
found at the foot of some bush more openly , 
situated. Near it stays the black and white 
male, with patches of chestnut red on his 
sides, turning over the decayed vegetation 
about him, and uttering his characteristic 
“towliee,” or perching in some bush to sing 
his simple song. If we disturb his mate, he 
will make his appearance immediately, and 
utter his saucy cries of distress. We will 
leave him and go to the woods. 
In the pine grove we may find several 
pretty nests on the ground — among others, 
that of the little black and white creeper, 
with its delicately colored eggs. The one 
by far of most interest is that of the oven- 
bird, or wagtail. You at ouce ask, Why call- 
ed “ oveu-bird ?” You will better under- 
stand when I show you the nest which I 
have found, an exceptionally fine specimen. 
Here it is, among the dry pine needles at the 
foot of a little knoll. It is built on a slope, 
and is roofed. This sounds strangely; but 
overhanging it is a net-work of pine needles 
and dry grasses built out from the slope, 
and this roof gives it the appearance of an 
old-fashioned oven, at the same time con- 
cealing it on three sides. It is a wrong be- 
lief that the open side (when there is any 
roof) is always toward the south ; it is as 
often toward the east ; and convenience of 
situation apparently influences the builders 
as much as considerations of heat and light. 
Without me, I fear that you would uot have 
seen this nest, even though you had stepped 
within six inches of it. As you came by, 
you would have seen a small bird, with 
greenish back and tail, and an orange crown 
bordered by dark stripes, fluttering along 
the ground. Half in eagerness and half in 
pity, you would have followed, as she led 
the way, always just out of reach. Sudden- 
ly she would have disappeared or flown off, 
aud you would have thought her conduct 
strange until you realized that you had been 
fooled by a bird. Experience will soon 
teach you, when you suddenly see a bird be- 
fore you in seeming pain and distress, not to 
pay her any attention, but to look about 
you, without wandering three feet from the 
spot where you first saw her. You will then 
find her nest, probably, unless she has stolen 
from it some distance before showing her- 
self; then the case is quite hopeless. The 
partridge, or ruffed grouse, is another de- 
ceiver. To be sure, she leaves her uest uu- 
der the log there, with its nine brown eggs, 
with an honest and startling whir; but 
when the proud mother is with her chicks, 
she is cunning enough to outwit many a 
man who thinks himself clever. The varie- 
ty of her ruses makes them doubly success- 
ful. Sometimes when surprised she feigns 
lameness, and tries to decoy the intruder 
away ; sometimes she bristles up, and at- 
tacks him by pecking at his toes, then sud- 
denly flies off. In either case the young 
have the good sense or instinct to hide in 
