THE CONDOR 
VOL. VI 
150 
Crowley Pasture, Eewistown, Mont., June 14. — I have always chided Bob for 
singing so persistently near our nest, and now he has brought ruin upon us by his 
merry jingles. Like Adam of old, though, he insists that I alone am to blame. 
Bob always was an ardent suitor, however, and now that our home has been de- 
spoiled, he has an opportunity to retune his voice and enjoy another period of 
bobolink honeymoon, while I am establishing a new home in another part of the 
pasture. There was a centain fence post whereon Bob was accustomed to sing 
whenever I was in my nest, and it seems that one Silloway, a regular crank rob- 
ber of birds’ nests, became suspicious regarding the frequent singing of Bob at that 
particular place. At any rate, the collector kept watching that little corner of 
swampy meadow, and frequently searched through it for a nest of bobolink. To- 
day he entered the little corner when I was on ray nest, and all the while Bob sat 
on that fence post and sang like the silly lover that he is, until from sheer ecstacy I 
fluttered from the tuft. The books say, I am told, that I always leave my nest by 
stealth and rise many feet away from it; but it is a failing of the books to interpret 
individual actions as general habits. Bobolinks do act thus on occasions, probably 
when suspecting danger at hand, but reall}^ I did not know that the arch-enem}^ 
was near, and somehow 1 fluttered right out of the tuft. He went straight to the 
spot, and looking down among the open grass blades, saw my three eggs with two 
that Mrs. Cowbird had intruded upon me. “Thanks, Mrs. Bobolink,” he cried, 
“thanks for small favors I had rather my first set of bobolink had been larger. 
Why did you stop with three eggs, anyway, when the books credit you with five 
to seven?” And come to think of it, why did I stop with three? I suppose that 
in making room for Mrs. Cowbird’s imposition, I found our snug cot comfortabl}' 
filled and so contented myself with the smaller number. If he looks over the 
other portion of the meadow, he will find several nests of seven, without cowbird’s, 
and I will stake my reputation that he will find them before many hours. (This 
prediction of Mrs. Bobolink was verified before many days. P. M. S.) 
Crowley Swamp, Lewistown, Mont., June 17. — Why on earth does a grown-up 
man want to grope around in a cat-tail swamp, wading to his middle in mud and 
water, and frightening us poor soras half to death? Why does he? I used to 
wonder at it, but tonight I can answer the question from bitter experience. He 
wants our eggs, of course. Now I have nested in this little pond for the past four 
years, and have seen that egg-crank Sillowaj' wander around here each season, 
but some way or another he never seemed to think of entering my chosen domain. 
Today, however, when he went past he eyed the rushes as if he intended to invade 
them, but passed on as usual, and 1 settled myself to a forenoon of enjoyment in 
my snug basket of rushes. At length I heard a crashing and splashing which 
came nearer and nearer, and before I was aware of it the nest robber was brush- 
ing against my grass tuft. Of course I flew out with a scream of fright, and in a 
moment he was gloating over my fourteen eggs arranged so nicely in two layers. 
“Another good find, and a good record made,” uttered the collector, “for the sora 
nests not only in Montana but in Fergus county and within sight of Lewistown.” 
Thus I lost my eggs. I’ll warrant me that he had a hard time preparing those 
eggs for his cabinet, for the last one had been laid some days, and I even expected 
some of them to begin to hatch tomorrow. Well, if he enjoys it, let him take 
them. I’ll lay another lot. It will only take me two weeks. (The eggs were 
found to be a trifle incubated, as Mrs. Sora leads ns to infer, but they made a nice 
set at any rate. P. M. S.) 
Lezi'isiou ')! , A/o?iia na. 
