BY THE WAYSIDE 
39 
sects, they were always met at the door 
by four hungry youngsters. The food 
given the young is often composed of 
dragon flies and mosquitoes. By Aug¬ 
ust first, the young had all flown and 
could he seen perched on telegraph wires 
[ while being fed by the fond parents. I 
have often noticed a young bird flying 
to meet the parent bird and taking its 
food in the air. By August twentieth the 
martins began to assemble for the flight 
southward. After September fifth no 
great number was seen, although, on 
September twelfth I saw a small flock 
leisurely flying southward. I expect to 
have a larger colony next year and would 
be glad to hear from any readers of 
“By the Wayside" about their experi¬ 
ences with martins. 
From a young martin lover, 
Harry B. Logan, Jr., 
Rovalton, Minn. 
# 
Morrison Co. 
Continued from page 35 
much of our cord to build their nest on 
adjoining grounds, not too far off to sing 
for us, and to come and eat my suet. 
Our female oriole builds most of the 
nest. First she fastens strong cord, 
sometimes horsehairs, firmly over the 
twigs. This she does with her bill, 
pushing and pulling it over and under 
a!nd out. Then she weaves the rest of 
the nest in the same manner, getting 
down into it and pressing her breast out 
against its walls to shape it, while the 
ever-watchful male sits not far off and 
keeps guard, darting every now and then 
quickly off to chase away some inquisi¬ 
tive or marauding larger or quarrel- 
i some bird. He keeps up this constant 
watchfulness during the three long, 
weary weeks of incubation, singing be¬ 
tween whiles, but always pouring forth 
his melody from some other tree, such 
apparently is his caution. 
For some reason, this summer these 
two looked the white oak over as usual, 
but decided not to build in it. Instead, 
they selected a similar location on a Car¬ 
olina poplar just north of the oak, and 
standing not more than ten feet from the 
steps of our rear porch. On account of 
the snowstorm and hard freezing in 
April, this year, the blossoms on the 
oaks did not reappear after they were 
frozen, so the oak trees were bare for 
some time after till the nipped leaf buds 
recovered, While the poplar, having shed 
its catkins before the storm came, the 
more readily leaved out; hence the 
change of place of residence of our pair, 
perhaps. 
Soon after the mother oriole had set¬ 
tled down to her serious duty, one morn¬ 
ing about four o’clock I was awakened 
by the most jubilant matin song, and I 
heard it every morning afterwards till 
the birds were hatched, and many times 
during the day. “Pip, pip, pip-e-e! Co- 
pip’-ip-e! Co-pip-’-ip-e!" he would sing, 
over and over again. Occasionally, till 
the end of August, I would hear him, 
sometimes from a distance, and the 
young birds taking it up in a twittering 
sort of way. 
Idle efforts of the young orioles to 
sing are very interesting, and sometimes 
very amusing. Their voices are waver¬ 
ing and weak. They get off the key and 
cannot strike the right note, but they 
keep on trying just the same,—else how 
would they ever learn? The summer of 
1901, in this region, was the driest and 
hottest for many years. During the 
warmest day of that season about a 
dozen young orioles that had grown 
up in our neighborhood gathered among 
the foliage of a large half-trailing red- 
and-yellow honeysuckle which drooped 
its protecting vines close to the grass in 
front of a large east window of our 
home. They fluttered around, in and 
