82 
A DAY IN JUNE 
was made to deceive or distract attention, but chilling, 
disagreeable fact suggests that the wood was found 
too hard* The successful excavation is higher up, 
and there she is already, alarmed at the stealthy 
approach, looking down with bright, round, startled 
eyes at the great, threatening intruder. A 
moment, and the staring spell is broken — she glides 
boldly out and wings her irregular course beyond 
the sheltering Maples in the crowding foreground. 
A slender arm can explore the rough tunnel in the 
wood, and down at the bottom is a little, solitary 
egg. The tiny object of her solicitude is brought 
forth to the light. It is pure white — so pure and 
translucent in the sun's rays that the yelk within 
gives it an elusive yellow tint, but in the shade its 
clear whiteness returns. With a care that even the 
startled bird could not surpass it is replaced, and with 
apologies unexpressed the intruders retire. Again 
the passing flash of yellow and white shows how 
anxiously and carefully she has been watching. She 
enters eagerly, and, after an anxious half-minute, 
comes forth again, happily satisfied in the safety of 
her treasure. 
The Indigo Bunting is among the pleasant summer 
songsters, but it is only by an accidental meeting in a 
shady spot that his handsome colour can be appreci- 
ated. In the warmth of summer even little Chippie, 
with his chattering trill, has a place among the 
