tream, up and down which the kingfisher flew
and clattered all day. One way out led to the thicket where a
wood-thrush was sitting in a low tree, and the other, by the Path
Difficult, up to the world above. The seat, across the court from the
nest, had plainly been arranged by some kind fate on purpose for us. It
was the trunk of a tree, which in falling failed to quite reach the
ground, and so had bleached and dried, and it was shaded and screened
from observation by vigorous saplings which had sprung up about it. The
whole was indeed an ideal nook, well worthy to be named after its
distinguished residents.

Thoreau was right in his assertion that one may see all the birds of a
neighborhood by simply waiting patiently in one place, and into that
charming spot came "sooner or later" every bird I had seen in my
wanderings up and down the ravine. There sang the scarlet tanager every
morning through July, gleaming among the leaves of the tallest trees,
his olive-clad spouse nowhere to be seen, presumably occupied with
domestic affairs. There the Acadian flycatcher pursued his calling,
fluttering his wings and uttering a sweet little murmur when he
alighted. Into that retired corner came the cries of flicker and blue
jay from the high ground beyond. On the edge sang the indigo-bird and
the wood-pewee, and cardinal and wood-thrush song formed the chorus to
all the varied notes that we heard.

Upon our entrance the next morning, my first glance at the nest was one
of dismay--the material seemed to be pulled out a little. Had it been
robbed! had some vagabond squirrel thrust lawless paws into the little
home! I looked closely; no, there sat, or rather there lay the little
mother. But she did not relish this second call. She flew, fluttering
and trailing on the ground, as if hurt, hoping, of course, to attract us
away from her nest. Seeing that of no avail, however, which she quickly
did, she retreated to a low branch, threw back her head, and uttered a
soft "chur-r-r," again and again repeated, doubtless to her mate. But
that personage did not make his appearance, and we examined the nest.
There were five eggs, white, very thickly and evenly specked with fine
dots of dark color. An end of one that stuck up was plain white, perhaps
the others were the same; we did not inquire too closely, for what did
we care for eggs, except as the cradles of the future birds?

Very soon we retired to our seat across the court and became qui