ccasions, something so decisive and emphatic, that
one entirely approves of the course of the male in not meddling or
offering any suggestions. It is the wife's enterprise, and she evidently
knows her own mind so well that the husband keeps aloof, or plays the
part of an approving spectator.

The woolen yarn was ill-suited to the Kentucky climate. This fact the
bird seemed to appreciate, for she used it only in the upper part of
her nest, in attaching it to the branch and in binding and compacting
the rim, making the sides and bottom of hemp, leaving it thin and airy,
much more so than are the same nests with us. No other bird would,
perhaps, have used such brilliant material; their instincts of
concealment would have revolted, but the oriole aims more to make its
nest inaccessible than to hide it. Its position and depth insure its
safety.

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL

One day in May, walking in the woods, I came upon the nest of a
whip-poor-will, or rather its eggs, for it builds no nest,--two
elliptical whitish spotted eggs lying upon the dry leaves. My foot was
within a yard of the mother bird before she flew. I wondered what a
sharp eye would detect curious or characteristic in the ways of the
bird, so I came to the place many times and had a look. It was always a
task to separate the bird from her surroundings, though I stood within a
few feet of her, and knew exactly where to look. One had to bear on with
his eye, as it were, and refuse to be baffled. The sticks and leaves,
and bits of black or dark-brown bark, were all exactly copied in the
bird's plumage. And then she did sit so close, and simulate so well a
shapeless, decaying piece of wood or bark! Twice I brought a companion,
and, guiding his eye to the spot, noted how difficult it was for him to
make out there, in full view upon the dry leaves, any semblance to a
bird. When the bird returned after being disturbed, she would alight
within a few inches of her eggs, and then, after a moment's pause,
hobble awkwardly upon them.

[Illustration: WHIP-POOR-WILL]

After the young had appeared, all the wit of the bird came into play. I
was on hand the next day, I think. The mother bird sprang up when I was
within a pace of her, and in doing so fanned the leaves with her wings
till they sprang up, too; as the leaves started the young started, and
as they were of the same color, to tell which was the leaf and which the
bird was a trying task to any eye. I came the