ing to take it at the moment, it was gone when I
thought of it as a witness.

Again the old longing for a nest assailed me; but I was not without
hope, for I had my hint. I had found out what sort of places the
veeries in this neighborhood liked. After that I never went into the
woods, on whatever errand bent, but I kept my eyes open for the chosen
situation. I examined dozens of promising spots, and I found nests that
had been used, which proved that I was on the right track, and kept up
my courage.

It was several days before another tawny-thrush cradle in use gladdened
our eyes, and this was in a wild part of the woods where we seldom went.
We were drawn there by the song of a tiny warbler, whose nest my friend
desired to find, since it was rare; and in passing a thicket of maple
saplings three feet high, she discovered a nest. She quickly parted the
leaves and looked in; three young birds opened their mouths for food.
"Veeries!" she exclaimed, in surprise. "What a strange place!"

This little home rested on a bare dead stick that had fallen and lodged
in a living branch, and the dead leaves used by veeries in their
building made it conspicuous, when the eyes happened to fall upon it;
but it was so well concealed by living branches that one might pass
fifty times and not see it. I describe this location, for it was very
unusual.

We looked at the birdlings; we walked on till we came to the place where
we turned from the path to see the warbler's little domicile. My friend
passed along. I lingered a moment, for it was a lovely spot, attractive
to birds as to bird-lovers, and high up in the air on the upturned roots
of a fallen tree

"an elder or two
Foamed over with blossoms white as spray."

While I stood there admiring the brave little bush that kept on living
and blooming, though lifted into an unnatural position by the tree at
whose feet it had grown, some mysterious drawing made me look closely at
a spot beside the road which we had passed many times without special
notice. There I found our third veery nest, the mother bird sitting.

Henceforth, every morning we went up the veery road, and before each
little nursery we sat us down to watch and study. It was necessary to be
very quiet, the birds in the saplings were so nervous; but keeping still
in the woods in summer is not the easy performance it is elsewhere,
though great are the inducements. From one side comes the chirp of the
w