ng _eekoo, eekoo, eekoo_, that sounds more
like a laugh than anything else among the birds. In most of his
musical efforts the golden-wing, instead of clinging to the side of a
tree, sits across the limb, like other birds.

A curious habit which the bird has adopted with advancing civilization
is that of providing himself with a sheltered sleeping place from the
storms and cold of winter. Late in the fall he finds a deserted
building, and after a great deal of shy inspection, to satisfy himself
that no one is within, drills a hole through the side. He has then a
comfortable place to sleep, and an abundance of decaying wood in which
to hunt insects on stormy days. An ice-house is a favorite location
for him, the warm sawdust furnishing a good burrowing place for a nest
or sleeping room. When a building is used as a nesting place, the bird
very cunningly drills the entrance close up under the eaves, where it
is sheltered from storms, and at the same time out of sight of all
prying eyes.

During the winter several birds often occupy one building together. I
know of one old deserted barn where last year five of the birds lived
very peaceably; though what they were doing there in the daytime I
could never quite make out. At almost any hour of the day, if one
approached very cautiously and thumped the side of the barn, some of
the birds would dash out in great alarm, never stopping to look behind
them. At first there were but three entrances; but after I had
surprised them a few times, two more were added; whether to get out
more quickly when all were inside, or simply for the sake of drilling
the holes, I do not know. Sometimes a pair of birds will have five or
six holes drilled, generally on the same side of the building.

Two things about my family in the old barn aroused my curiosity--what
they were doing there by day, and how they got out so quickly when
alarmed. The only way it seemed possible for them to dash out on the
instant, as they did, was to fly straight through. But the holes were
too small, and no bird but a bank-swallow would have attempted such a
thing.

One day I drove the birds out, then crawled in under a sill on the
opposite side, and hid in a corner of the loft without disturbing
anything inside. It was a long wait in the stuffy old place before one
of the birds came back. I heard him light first on the roof; then his
little head appeared at one of the holes as he sat just below, against
the side o