NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH 
both parents busy, and yet whenever a little 
one tried his wings the father was there to 
take care of him. 
At the foot of the tree were colonies of 
black beetles, — the red-head’s larder, as it 
were, — and from it he carried these to the 
young, both inside and out of the nest, on 
an average of three a minute at six o’clock 
in the evening. I do not know whether 
he fed them by regurgitation during their 
earliest babyhood or not, but it was never 
done at the doorway, as is the case with 
the flickers. Although sparrows’ nests were 
numerous and exposed, I am positive he 
never robbed them. In a hollow part of 
the tree after it fell were nut shells, dead 
beetles, and grasshoppers, evidently stored 
from mere love of hoarding. 
The young red-heads seemed to be on the 
point of flying for a week or so before they 
actually left the nest, and during all that 
time we were ever on the qui vive. Each 
year when the crisis finally came, my head 
was sure to be turned in the opposite direc- 
176 
