surprised," he says, "on one occasion, to
see how quickly they change places on the nest. The nest was in a tall
beech, and the leaves were not yet fully out. I could see the head and
neck of the hawk over the edge of the nest, when I saw the other hawk
coming down through the air at full speed. I expected he would alight
near by, but instead of that he struck directly upon the nest, his mate
getting out of the way barely in time to avoid being hit; it seemed
almost as if he had knocked her off the nest. I hardly see how they can
make such a rush on the nest without danger to the eggs."

The kingbird will worry the hawk as a whiffet dog will worry a bear. It
is by his persistence and audacity, not by any injury he is capable of
dealing his great antagonist. The kingbird seldom more than dogs the
hawk, keeping above and between his wings and making a great ado; but my
correspondent says he once "saw a kingbird riding on a hawk's back. The
hawk flew as fast as possible, and the kingbird sat upon his shoulders
in triumph until they had passed out of sight,"--tweaking his feathers,
no doubt, and threatening to scalp him the next moment.

That near relative of the kingbird, the great crested fly-catcher,
has one well-known peculiarity: he appears never to consider his
nest finished until it contains a cast-off snake-skin. My alert
correspondent one day saw him eagerly catch up an onion skin and
make off with it, either deceived by it or else thinking it a good
substitute for the coveted material.

One day in May, walking in the woods, I came upon a nest of
whippoorwill, or rather its eggs,--for it builds no nest,--two
elliptical whitish spotted eggs lying upon the dry leaves. My foot was
within a yard of the mother-bird before she flew. I wondered what a
sharp eye would detect curious or characteristic in the ways of the
bird, so I came to the place many times and had a look. It was always a
task to separate the bird from her surroundings, though I stood within a
few feet of her, and knew exactly where to look. One had to bear on with
his eye, as it were, and refuse to be baffled. The sticks and leaves,
and bits of black or dark-brown bark, were all exactly copied in the
bird's plumage. And then she did sit so close and simulate so well a
shapeless decaying piece of wood or bark! Twice I brought a companion,
and guiding his eye to the spot, noted how difficult it was for him to
make out there, in full view upon the dry le