ding material, and arranging it with great
pains inside the structure. This was satisfactory, for I did not know
the kingbird in domestic life.

For several days it seemed uncertain whether the kingbirds would ever
really occupy the nest, so spasmodic was the work upon it. Now one of
the pair came with a bit of something, placed it, tried its effect this
way and that, and then disappeared; while for hours every day both might
be seen about the place, hunting insects and taking their ease on the
fence as if no thought of nesting ever stirred their wise little heads.
The last addition to the domicile was curious: a soft white feather from
the poultry yard, which was fastened up on the edge, and stood there
floating in the breeze; a white banner of peace flung out to the world
from her castle walls.

Peace from a kingbird? Direful tales are told of this bird: "he is
pugnacious," says one writer; "he fights everybody," adds another; "he
is a coward," remarks a third. Science has dubbed him tyrant
(_Tyrannis_), and his character is supposed to be settled. But may there
not be two sides to the story? We shall see. One kingbird, at least,
shall be studied sympathetically; we shall try to enter his life, to
judge him fairly, and shall above all

"bring not
The fancies found in books,
Leave author's eyes, and fetch our own."

Nearly two months that small dwelling on the oak was watched, day after
day, early and late, in storm and in sunshine; now I know at least one
family of kingbirds, and what I know I shall honestly tell, "nothing
extenuating."

The house was built, the season was passing, yet housekeeping did not
begin. The birds, indeed, appeared to have abandoned the tree, and days
went by in which I could not see that either visited it. But the nest
was not deserted, for all that; the curiosity and impertinence of the
neighbors were simply amazing. (Perhaps the kingbird has some reason to
be pugnacious!) No sooner was that tenement finished than, as promptly
as if they had received cards to a house-warming, visitors began to
come. First to show himself was an orchard oriole, who was in the habit
of passing over the yard every day and stopping an hour or more in the
neighborhood, while he scrambled over the trees, varying his lunches
with a rich and graceful song. Arrived this morning in the kingbird
tree, he began his usual hunt over the top branch, when suddenly his eye
fell upon the k