out of sight, while all the women go out and help
his wife to get him home. The most troublesome meddler was, as might be
expected, an English sparrow. From the time when the first stick was
laid till the babies were grown and had left the tree, that bird never
ceased to intrude and annoy. He visited the nest when empty; he managed
to have frequent peeps at the young; and notwithstanding he was driven
off every time, he still hung around, with prying ways so exasperating
that he well deserved a thrashing, and I wonder he did not get it. He
was driven away repeatedly, and he was "picked off" from below, and
pounced upon from above, but he never failed to return.

Another visitor of whom the kingbird seemed suspicious was a purple crow
blackbird, who every day passed over. This bird and the common crow were
the only ones he drove away without waiting for them to alight; and if
half that is told of them be true, he had reason to do so.

With none of these intruders had the kingbird any quarrel when away from
his nest. The blackbird, to whom he showed the most violence, hunted
peacefully beside him on the grass all day; the robin alighted near him
on the fence, as usual; the orioles scrambled over the neighboring
trees, singing, and eating, as was their custom; even the English
sparrow carried on his vulgar squabbles on his own branch of the oak all
day; but to none of them did the kingbird pay the slightest attention.
He simply and solely defended his own household.

In the beginning the little dame took sitting very easy, fidgeting about
in the nest, standing up to dress her feathers, stretching her neck to
see what went on in the yard below, and stepping out upon a neighboring
twig to rest herself. After a few days she settled more seriously to
work, and became very quiet and patient. Her mate never brought food to
her, nor did he once take her place in the nest; not even during a
furious northeast gale that turned June into November, and lasted
thirty-six hours, most of the time with heavy rain, when the top branch
bent and tossed, and threatened every moment a catastrophe. In the
house, fires were built and books and work brought out; but the
bird-student, wrapped in heavy shawls, kept close watch from an open
window, and noted well the bad-weather manners of Tyrannis. Madame sat
very close, head to the northeast, and tail, narrowed to the width of
one feather, pressed against a twig that grew up behind the nest. All