He lit on
the side of a cockle stem, and on the instant caught sight of me. Alas!
he seemed suddenly turned to stone. He held onto that stalk as if his
little legs had been bars of iron and I a devouring monster. When he had
collected his wits enough to fly off, instead of the careless gay flight
with which he had come out through the open air, he timidly kept low
within the cockle field, making a circuitous way through the high
stalks. He could be afraid of me if he liked, I thought, for after a
certain amount of suspicion, an innocent person gets resentful; at any
rate I was going to see that nest. Creeping up cautiously when the
mother bird was away, so as not to scare her, and carefully parting the
mallows, I looked in. Yes, there it was, a beautiful little sage-green
nest of old grass laid in a coil. I felt as pleased as if having a right
to share the family happiness. After that I watched the small worker
gather material with new interest, knowing where she was going to put
it. She worked fast, but did not take the first thing she found, by any
means. With a flit of the wing she went in nervous haste from cockle to
cockle, looking eagerly about her. Jumping down to the ground, she
picked up a bit of grass, threw it down dissatisfied, and turned away
like a person looking for something. At last she lit on the side of a
thistle, and tweaking out a fibre, flew with it to the nest.

"A month after the first encounter with the father Lazuli, I found
him looking at me around the corner of a cockle stalk, and in passing
back again, caught him singing full tilt, though his bill was full of
insects! After we had turned our backs I looked over my shoulder and
had the satisfaction of seeing him take his beakful to the nest. You
couldn't help admiring him, for though not a warrior who would snap his
bill over the head of an enemy of his home, he had a gallant holiday air
with his blue coat and merry song, and you felt sure his little brown
mate would get cheer and courage enough from his presence to make family
dangers appear less frightful."

[Illustration: From col. John F. Ferry.
LAZULI BUNTING.
Copyrighted by
Nature Study Pub. Co., 1897, Chicago.]

THE LAZULI BUNTING.

You think you have seen me before? Well, I must admit my relative, the
Indigo Bunting, and I _do_ look alike. They say though, I am the
prettier bird of the two. Turn to your May number, page 17