male mourning ground warbler, and remembered that the
nest of this bird had not yet been seen by any naturalist,--that not
even Dr. Brewer had ever seen the eggs,--I felt that here was
something worth looking for. So I carefully began the search,
exploring inch by inch the ground, the base and roots of the tree, and
the various shrubby growths about it, till finding nothing and fearing
I might really put my foot in it, I bethought me to withdraw to a
distance and after some delay return again, and, thus forewarned, note
the exact point from which the bird flew. This I did, and, returning,
had little difficulty in discovering the nest. It was placed but a few
feet from the maple tree, in a bunch of ferns, and about six inches
from the ground. It was quite a massive nest, composed entirely of the
stalks and leaves of dry grass, with an inner lining of fine, dark
brown roots. The eggs, three in number, were of light flesh-color,
uniformly specked with fine brown specks. The cavity of the nest was
so deep that the back of the sitting bird sank below the edge.

In the top of a tall tree, a short distance farther on, I saw the nest
of the red-tailed hawk,--a large mass of twigs and dry sticks. The
young had flown, but still lingered in the vicinity, and as I
approached, the mother bird flew about over me, squealing in a very
angry, savage manner. Tufts of the hair and other indigestible
material of the common meadow mouse lay around on the ground beneath
the nest.

As I was about leaving the woods, my hat almost brushed the nest of
the red-eyed vireo, which hung basket-like on the end of a low,
drooping branch of the beech. I should never have seen it had the bird
kept her place. It contained three eggs of the bird's own, and one of
the cow bunting. The strange egg was only just perceptibly larger than
the others, yet, in three days after, when I looked into the nest
again and found all but one egg hatched, the young interloper was at
least four times as large as either of the others, and with such a
superabundance of bowels as to almost smother his bedfellows beneath
them. That the intruder should fare the same as the rightful
occupants, and thrive with them, was more than ordinary potluck; but
that it alone should thrive, devouring, as it were, all the rest, is
one of those freaks of Nature in which she would seem to discourage
the homely virtues of prudence and honesty. Weeds and parasites have
the odds greatly against t