rds began feeding their young. They
would fly to the stub and stand under the nest while rousing the brood
by rattling into the hole, which had the odd effect of muffling their
voices. When, as they flew back and forth a Yellow-hammer stopped in
passing, they drove him off in a hurry. They wanted that grove to
themselves.

On my next visits, if, in spite of many precautions, they discovered
me, they flew to dead tree tops to watch me, or startled me by an angry
quarr' quarr' quarr' over my head. When they found that I made no
attempt to go near the nest, however, they finally put up with me and
went about their business.

After being at the nest together they would often fly off in opposite
directions, to hunt on different beats. If one hunted in the grove, the
other would go out to the rail fence. A high maple was a favorite
lookout and hunting-ground for the one who stayed in the grove, and
cracks in the bark afforded good places to wedge insects into. The bird
who hunted on the fence, if suspecting a grub in a rail, would stand
motionless as a Robin on the grass, apparently listening; but when the
right moment came would drill down rapidly and spear the grub. If an
insect passed that way the Redhead would make a sally into the air for
it, sometimes shooting straight up for fifteen or twenty feet and
coming down almost as straight; at others flying out and back in an
ellipse, horizontally or obliquely up in the air or down over the
ground. But oftener than all, perhaps, it flew down onto the ground to
pick up something which its sharp eyes had discovered there. Once it
brought up some insect, hit it against the rail, gave a business-like
hop and flew off to feed its young.

The young left the nest between my visits, but when, chancing to focus
my glass on a passing Woodpecker I discovered that its head was gray
instead of red, I knew for a certainty what had happened. The fledgling
seemed already much at home on its wings. It flew out into the air,
caught a white miller and went back to the tree with it, shaking it and
then rapping it vigorously against a branch before venturing to swallow
it. When the youngster flew, I followed rousing a Robin who made such
an outcry that one of the old Redheads flew over in alarm. "Kik-a-rik,
kik-a-rik," it cried as it hurried from tree to tree, trying to keep an
eye on me while looking for the youngster. Neither of us could find it
for some time, but after looking in vain over t