e her twin fledglings. The
cedar birds, despite their name, are oftenest found in the linden
trees. Rowing along the water side one may see the slender bodies
tilting on the top-most branches, flitting to and fro among the pendant
yellow bracts, peering shyly this way and that, whispering to each
other sage words of caution as to the queerness of all the world "save
thee and me, Dorothy." Gentle little Quakers they seem in the daintiest
of dove-color plumage. They are connoisseurs in the matter of foods, as
well as of dress. Nothing pleases their palate so well as the wild
cherries that ripen by the roadside. The sweet kernels of the linden
fruit are not bad eating, however, if one may judge by the quantities
of split shells to be found beneath the trees. The lake is sought out
by birds as well as humans for the pleasure of bathing in the cool,
fresh water. Sit quietly by some pebbly bank for a half hour or so, and
you cannot fail to see robin or bluejay or turtledove come down to take
his daily plunge.

The reedy marshes are beloved by the redwings. The thick-set tufts of
the cat-o'-nine-tails afford ideal sites for summer cottages, with
building material close at hand. Here, too, the marsh wrens weave their
oven-shaped nests and hang them among the banners of the iris. The
water-lily pools are alive with summer folk. Quaint, unwieldy bitterns
flap their slow way to nests well hidden in the reeds. Coots steal in
and out _en route_ to their lake dwellings. The broad green pads offer
the Virginia rail a secluded perch, where he may consider which quarter
of the shining mud flats will prove the best feeding ground for the
day. A trim little figure in gray and tan, he gathers no soil from the
black ooze through which he wades. Another dainty person who haunts
these same shallows is the spotted sandpiper, the much loved
"teeter-tail." He runs tipping along the water's edge, with an
occasional short flight, as much at home among these placid ripples as
by the booming sea. The kill-deer plover vibrates between the grassy
meadow and the beach, but he, as well as the sandpiper, prefers to
stake his domestic happiness on dry ground. Among the birds of the
shore, the kingfisher is most in evidence. Conspicuous in blue coat,
gray waistcoat and broad, white collar, he flies along the beach
seeking for the dead branches of oak or cedar that shall serve him as a
lookout station from which to spy upon the finny folk swimming in the
w