d
the whole place most carefully. But though I had marked the precise
spot, there was no sign of a nest. I was about giving over the search
ignominiously, when I descried a slight opening between the overhanging
roof of the bank and a layer of earth which some roots held in place
close under it. Into this slit I inserted my fingers, and there,
entirely out of sight, was the nest full of eggs. No man could ever have
found it, had the bird been brave and wise enough to keep her seat.
However, I had before this noticed that the snow-bird, while often
extremely clever in choosing a building site, is seldom very skillful in
keeping a secret. I saw him one day standing on the side of the same
Mount Willard road,[12] gesticulating and scolding with all his might,
as much, as to say, "Please don't stop here! Go straight along, I beg of
you! Our nest is right under this bank!" And one glance under the bank
showed that I had not misinterpreted his demonstrations. For all that, I
do not feel like taking a lofty tone in passing judgment upon Junco. He
is not the only one whose wisdom is mixed with foolishness. There is at
least one other person of whom the same is true,--a person of whom I
have nevertheless a very good opinion, and with whom I am, or ought to
be, better acquainted than I am with any animal that wears feathers.

The prettiest snow-bird's nest I ever saw was built beside the Crawford
bridle path, on Mount Clinton, just before the path comes out of the
woods at the top. It was lined with hair-moss (a species of
_Polytrichum_) of a bright orange color, and with its four or five
white, lilac-spotted eggs made so attractive a picture that I was
constrained to pause a moment to look at it, even though I had three
miles of a steep, rough footpath to descend, with a shower threatening
to overtake me before I could reach the bottom. I wondered whether the
architects really possessed an eye for color, or had only stumbled upon
this elegant bit of decoration. On the whole, it seemed more charitable
to conclude the former; and not only more charitable, but more
scientific as well. For, if I understand the matter aright, Mr. Darwin
and his followers have settled upon the opinion that birds do display an
unmistakable fondness for bright tints; that, indeed, the males of many
species wear brilliant plumage for no other reason than that their mates
prefer them in that dress. Moreover, if a bird in New South Wales adorns
her bower w