M LX.^rCCU/*. 
1887 .] 
A IPoocWcmc? Intimate. 
349 
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*, 
A WOODLAND INTIMATE. 
It is one of the enjoyable features of 
bird study, as in truth it is of life in 
general, that so many of its pleasantest 
experiences have not to be sought after, 
hut befall us by the way ; like rare and 
beautiful flowers, which are never more 
welcome than when they smile upon us 
unexpectedly from the roadside. 
One May morning I had spent an 
hour in a small wood where I am ac- 
customed to saunter, and, coming out 
into the road on my way home again, 
fell in with a friend. “ Would n’t you 
like to see an oven-bird’s nest ? ” I in- 
quired. He assented, and, turning back, 
I piloted him to the spot. The little 
mother sat motionless, just within the 
door of her comfortable, roofed house, 
watching us intently, but all unconscious, 
it is to be feared, of our admiring com- 
ments upon her ingenuity and courage. 
Seeing her thus devoted to her charge, 
I wondered anew whether she could be 
so innocent as not to know that one of 
the eggs on which she brooded with such 
assiduity was not her own, but had been 
foisted upon her by a faithless cow-bird. 
To me, I must confess, it is inexplicable 
that any bird should be either so unob- 
servant as not to recognize a foreign egg 
at sight, or so easy-tempered as not to 
insist on straightway being rid of it; 
though this is no more inscrutable, it 
may be, than for another bird persis- 
tently, and as it were on principle, to cast 
her own offspring upon the protection of 
strangers ; while this, in turn, is not 
more mysterious than ten thousand 
every-day occurrences all about us. Af- 
ter all, it is a wise man that knows what 
to wonder at ; and the wiser he grows 
the stronger is likely to become his con- 
viction that, little as may be known, 
nothing is absolutely unknowable ; that 
in the world, as in its Author, there is 
probably “ no darkness at all,” save as 
daylight is dark to owls and bats. I 
did not see the oven-bird’s eggs at this 
time, however, my tender-hearted com- 
panion protesting that their faithful cus- 
todian should not be disturbed for the 
gratification of his curiosity. So we 
bade her adieu, and went in pursuit of 
a solitary vireo, just then overheard sing- 
ing not far off. A few paces brought 
him into sight, and as we came nearer 
and nearer he stood quite still on a 
dead bough, in full view, singing all the 
while. When my friend had looked 
him over to his satisfaction, never 
having met with such a specimen be- 
fore, _ I set myself to examine the 
lower branches of the adjacent trees, 
feeling no doubt, from the bird’s signifi- 
cant behavior, that his nest must be some- 
where in the immediate neighborhood. 
Sure enough, it was soon discovered, 
hanging from near the end of an oak 
limb ; a typical vireo cup, suspended 
within the angle of two horizontal twigs, 
with bits of newspaper wrought into its 
structure, and trimmed outwardly with 
some kind of white silky substance. 
The female was in it (this, too, we might 
have foreseen with reasonable certainty) ; 
hut when she flew off, it appeared that 
as yet no eggs were laid. The couple 
manifested scarce any uneasiness at our 
investigations, and we soon came away ; 
stopping, as we left the wood, to spy out 
the nest of a scarlet tanager, the femi- 
nine builder of which was just then busy 
with giving it some finishing touches. 
It had been a pleasant stroll, I thought, 
— nothing more ; but it proved to be the 
beginning of an adventure which, to me 
at least, was in the highest degree novel 
and interesting. 
I ought, perhaps, to premise that the 
solitary vireo (called also the blue-head- 
ed vireo, and the blue-lieaded greenlet) is 
strictly a bird of the woods. It belongs 
