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bluebird box; one of the four eggs fell to the ground and it was evident 
that it had been nearly ready to hatch. “Why not try another robin 
experiment?” I wondered. Mrs. Cherry No. II’s eggs were due to hatch 
soon; she did not object to the gift of two small brownish eggs. Near the 
Olentangy River a pair had built in a stump of a maple only two feet from 
the ground; they also accepted my donation. May 1st one robin had hatched 
in the Cherries’ nest, while another had died in the shell. This was re- 
moved. The next day there was still only one robin baby, but on the 3rd 
things were different: 
“The Cherries have two tiny English sparrows, one enormous young 
robin—two days old—and one robin egg. The sparrows called eee-eee. 
Perhaps robins can’t well feed such small creatures.” 
This experiment came to an abrupt end; at 11:00 A.M. the nest was 
empty. 
As to the Maple-Stumps’ nest, on May 2 in a frame of large blue eggs 
sprawled a tiny, naked infant; the next day it was dead. The robin eggs 
hatched May 7; four days later a great flood was rushing past the nest. 
Poor Mrs. Maple-Stump was a picture of motherly devotion as she sat, wet 
and bedraggiled in the rain, with outstretched wing's over her children, while 
a swirling torrent roared by a few inches below. But she was unable to 
cope with the situation; the water reached the nest and the young perished. 
So this test was only halfway successful. 
The robins had not rejected the English sparrow eggs, nor, apparently, 
had they fed the young. Cowbird babies were larger to begin with. Would 
robins raise them along with their own young? A cowbird egg from a 
deserted song sparrow nest was put into a robin nest; there it stayed day 
in and day out; it stayed so long that at last it was plain it was addled. 
Although plenty of cowbird eggs appeared in song sparrow nests, there 
I let them stay, so it was not often that I had a chance to experiment. One 
day a possum or some other enemy dragged out a song sparrow nest but 
missed the cowbird egg which I discovered under the wops of nesting 
material. I knew of a robin nest in which incubation was just starting; 
when no one was looking I slipped in the rescued egg and there it remained. 
These robins had strong feelings on the subject of my interest in their nest. 
Whenever they saw me approaching they came rushing to the scene shriek- 
ing at the top of their voices. I feared the foster-egg might have been 
addled from its rough experience, so what was my astonishment on May 17 
to find two young robins and the baby cowbird! I didn’t blame cowbirds 
for seldom laying in robins’ nests; although the three nestlings were the 
same age, the poor little waif was entirely dwarfed by his giant companions. 
The next morning robin number three was just hatching as I reached 
the nest; he looked three times as big as the egg from which he had just 
emerged. Everything is relative in this world. Usually it is the cowbird 
that is the monster. In the evening the little orphan was still asking for 
food. I hoped he would survive. The next day he struggled on courage- 
ously, but on the 20th he was dead. 
In a North Dakota locality cowbirds are reported as rather commonly 
