nst the trunk of her
oak and watch the nest, which was near the tip of one of the long
swinging branches that drooped over the trail. When the tiny worker was
at home, a yard-stick would almost measure the distance between us. As
she sat on the nest she sometimes turned her head to look down at the
dog lying beside me, and often hovered over us on going away.

The nest was saddled on a twig and glued to a glossy dark green oak
leaf. Like the other nest, it was made of a spongy yellow substance,
probably down from the underside of sycamore leaves; and like it, also,
the outside was coated with lichen and wound with cobweb. The bird was a
rapid worker, buzzing in with her material and then buzzing off after
more. Once I saw the cobweb hanging from her needle-like bill, and
thought she probably had been tearing down the beautiful suspension
bridges the spiders hang from tree to tree.

It was very interesting to see her work. She would light on the rim of
the nest, or else drop directly into the bottom of the tiny cup, and
place her material with the end of her long bill. It looked like trying
to sew at arm's length. She had to draw back her head in order not to
reach beyond the nest. How much more convenient it would have been if
her bill had been jointed! It seemed better suited to probing flower
tubes than making nests. But then, she made nests only in spring, while
she fed from flowers all the year round, and so could afford to stretch
her neck a trifle one month for the sake of having a good long fly spear
during the other eleven. The peculiar feature of her work was her
quivering motion in moulding. When her material was placed she moulded
her nest like a potter, twirling around against the sides, sometimes
pressing so hard she ruffled up the feathers of her breast. She shaped
her cup as if it were a piece of clay. To round the outside, she would
sit on the rim and lean over, smoothing the sides with her bill, often
with the same peculiar tremulous motion. When working on the outside, at
times she almost lost her balance, and fluttered to keep from falling.
To turn around in the nest, she lifted herself by whirring her wings.

When she found a bit of her green lichen about to fall, she took the
loose end in her bill and drew it over the edge of the nest, fastening
it securely inside. She looked very wise and motherly as she sat there
at work, preparing a home for her brood. After building rapidly she
would take a sh