A BROWN THRASHER 
in a thorn-bushj and cer™ 
tain am I that those nesT 
lings were there also, 
though I never could find 
it in my heart to look. 
It was a far cry from the 
large, loosely woven cradle 
of the thrashers to a tiny 
nest of a pair of hair-birds 
in the same thorn-bush. 
This was built in the cen- 
tre of one of the turreted 
branches, and so securely 
hidden one would never 
suspect its presence. The 
wee mother had a daunt- 
less courage, and more 
than once allowed me to 
touch her before she could 
be induced to leave the 
nest. She was a fluffy, 
fascinating bit of soft 
grayish-brown and buff, 
with sparkling bead-like 
235 
Hair-bird’s nest in same 
thorn-bush 
