shell-marks have the usual purplish tint. I have never known of a white or an unmarked specimen be- 
ing found ; but it is probable that occasionally such variations do occur. The egg is in fact a miniature 
of the Red-winged Blackbird’s, the remarks concerning the coloration of which apply also to the eggs 
under consideration. In long-diameter, they vary from .52 to .82. In short-diameter, from .49 to .58. 
An average egg measures .70 x .50. 
DIFFERENTIAL POINTS: 
The nest and eggs together can always be recognized from the description given above. The eggs 
bear so little resemblance to any others of similar size, that even extremes can usually be identified at 
once. The identification of the nest, however, on account of the great variation in locality, position, and 
materials, is uncertain ; still, one accustomed to the architecture of the Chippy will, generally, experience 
no difficulty in determining the species when the nest is met with. 
REMARKS : 
The illustration represents a nest built in an apple-tree, June, 1878. The nearest house was distant 
from the tree about half a mile. The foundation and superstructure are composed of fine rootlets, weed- 
stems, fibres, and slender grasses. The lining of fine weed-stems, cow-hair, and long, black horse-hairs. 
The cavity measures one and three-fourths inches in diameter, by one and three-eighths inches in depth. 
The eggs figured represent the average and extremes in size, ground-color, and markings. 
The subject of this sketch is so well known that it seems unnecessary to speak of its habits, except 
in a general way. Few persons, perhaps, have passed the period of childhood without at some time 
having acted as guardian or destroyer of one or more families of these semi-domesticated sparrows. 
What person, as a child, has not seen the tiny blue eggs, with their dark, irregular lines and spots, in 
the nest in the evergreen or grapevine beside the door, and watched with pleasure and wonder their 
transformation into scrawny, lialf-clothed little birds, that lift their heavy heads and open wide their 
mouths — which seem to be the greater part of them — when the parent-bird with some unlucky larva 
makes known her presence by fluttering wings and satisfied notes? And when time lias opened their eyes, 
and covered them with feathers; when the nest seems grown too small for the family; what innocent, 
having seen and watched their development, has ever resisted the temptation to pat them on the head, 
or to take one from the nest to squeeze for a moment? Then, just as the hand touches the soft brown 
feathers, away they go, but unable to fly, they fall struggling to the ground, or cling to the friendly 
branches. Having thus once tasted the liberty for which they longed, vain is the' childish attempt to 
confine them to their former home. Amid the cries of the young, and lamentations of the parent-birds, 
the child regrets the meddlesomeness, while the favorite cat rejoices over a morsel so young and tender. 
Several years ago, Miss Pritchet, of Ashville, gave me a nest, which illustrates well one’ of the 
many accidents that occur to mar the peace and pleasures of bird-life. One day, while passing an apple- 
tree near the house, her attention was attracted by the scolding cries of a pair of Chippies. Close in- 
spection revealed a nest among the thick foliage. From the troubled actions of the birds, she thought 
a snake or some other nest-robber might, perhaps, be concealed about the premises. A step-ladder was 
procured, and the place cautiously approached, but instead of a snake, an apple about one-third grown 
was found the cause of all the disturbance. The site selected by these birds was among an irregular lot 
of stems, projecting over which was a small twig having on it, at the time the situation was chosen, a 
little apple, or perhaps a blossom. The nest was completed, the complement of eggs deposited, and in- 
cubation commenced. In about one week from this time the apple had grown to such a size that it 
drooped into and nearly filled the cavity of the nest. The last straw had broken the camel’s back; the 
mother-bird had gone on and off for the last time. How many days she and her mate had been scolding 
the apple and vainly endeavoring to push it aside, can only be conjectured. 
104 
