720 
The Birds of May. 
bear up the weight within. It is 
only necessary to bend over the stem 
of the pine, in order to grasp the cup- 
shaped object ; and behold the treasure 
it contains ! Six eggs rest there. 
Four are pinkish white, with points of 
black upon their large ends ; the other 
two of greater size, and speckled all 
over with brown. The first are the 
Vireo’s own eggs, and the last those 
of an interloper, the Low Blackbird ; 
who pursues the same method in the 
Western world that Cuckoos do in 
the Eastern, and risks in the hands 
of strangers, all the hopes and future 
of her race. She always selects for 
this sort of imposition, the nest of 
some bird that is smaller than herself, 
and one whose eggs are also more or 
DO 
less specked or mottled, Vireos and the 
Yellow Bird being her especial favor- 
ites ; which may be considered in 
the light of a compliment to the do- 
mestic virtues of those species. It 
must be the perfect symmetry of 
every thing about a bird’s nest, which 
makes it so invariably an interesting 
object. Even the coarse and heavy 
structure of the Robin, built of mud 
and straw, has oftener called forth 
extravagant expressions of delight, 
than the work of our best architects. 
But the Vireo makes nest-building 
really one of the fine arts, and 
shows in it a superiority over the 
robin, as, decided as that of Phidias 
to an ordinary carver. Every fibre 
is worked into its proper place with un- 
rivalled nicety; and that same archi- 
tectural law, the economy of materials, 
which had its share in producing the 
best Gothic cathedrals, is here fully 
exemplified. You might use it for a 
drinking-cup, although it would not 
last long for that purpose, not to 
speak of the unworthiness of putting 
it to such a service. In fact, of all 
the nests I know of, the Vireo’s is the 
most exquisite. It is like the Ori- 
ole’s, but more refined. 
The Water Thrush is a queer bird. 
He comes sauntering up the side of 
the brook, investigating things with 
his bill, and keeping his short tail in 
perpetual motion. Why that tail 
should oscillate so continually, is one of 
the facts in nature yet to be explained. 
The Beet Weet, who wades around 
the margin of the swamp yonder, has 
the same habit in an intensified degree. 
Two weeks from now, and the Water 
^Thrush will have raked together a 
heap of dead pine and oak leaves, on 
the side of the hill, and made a nest 
out of them. It will look like noth- 
ing so much as a chance heap of 
leaves, but on one side, will have a 
narrow entrance, and within, a hollow, 
as smooth, compact, and round as if 
moulded on a cannon-ball. 
They also call this bird the Oven- 
bird, from the fancy that its habita- 
tion resembles an oven ; but it is 
more like an Esquimaux’s hut in mini- 
ature. Just now, he does not think 
so much of nesting as of certain deli- 
cious insects, which live in the moss 
and under decaying logs. How those 
long yellow legs do strut up and down 
in the mud! Their feet are always 
wet; and } r et they always take the 
next step as if afraid that it was go- 
ing to wet them again. The gravity 
and deliberation of their movements 
is something for philosophers to ad- 
mire. Where does that big blue fly 
come from, and where does he whisk 
off to so suddenly? He flew into 
my face ; and I was perfectly defence- 
less before his audacity. Immediately 
upon the crackling of a dead stick, a 
loud harsh cry comes from above. 
Three great Bitterns start out of the 
top of a tall oak, and, after wheeling 
about several times, fly off above the 
tree tops, with their long bills extend- 
