re always cocked on one side or the other to look down
at something, and long tails that are always flipping about as their
owners flaunt gayly through the bushes: At sound of their voices I
pulled Billy up out of the ditch, and, slipping from his back, sat down
on the ground to wait for the birds. Eureka! there, in a slender young
oak on the edge of the stream not a rod away, one of the pair was
gliding off its nest, a beautiful lichen-covered, compact little
structure such as I had admired years before. I was jubilant. What a
relief! I had fully expected it to be inside the dense brush, where no
mortal could tell what was going on; and here it was out in the plain
light of day. What a delightful time I should have watching it! Before
leaving the spot, in imagination I had followed the brood out into the
world and filled a note-book with the quaint airs and graces of the
piquant pair.

When insinuating yourself into the secrets of the bird world, it is not
well to be too obtrusive at first: it is a mistake to spend the day when
you make your first call; so contenting myself with thinking of the
morrow, and fixing the small oak in my memory, I took myself off before
the blue-gray should tell on me to her mate. As I rose to go, a dove
flew out of the oak--she had been brooding right over my head. Another
nest, and a mourning dove's, one of the most gentle and winning of
birds! Surely my good star was in the ascendent!

The next day, forgetful of this second nest, I rode Billy right up under
the oak, and was startled to find the pretty dove sitting quietly over
our heads, looking down at us out of her gentle eyes. It was a pleasant
surprise. She let me talk to her, but when I had dismounted Billy
tramped around so uneasily that the saddle caught in the oak branches
and scared the poor bird away. I had hardly seated myself when the
jaunty little gnatcatcher came flying over and lit in an upper branch
of the tree. What a contrast she was to the quiet dove! With many flirts
of the tail she hopped down to the nest, jumping from branch to branch
as if tripping down a pair of stairs. When she dropped into her deep cup
her small head stuck up over one edge, her long tail pointed over the
other.[2]

I looked away a moment, and on glancing back found the nest empty.
On the instant, however, came the sound of my small friend's voice.
Such a talkative little person!--not one of your
creep-in-and-out-of-the-nest-without-anybody'