The hawk flew as fast as possible, and the kingbird sat upon his
shoulders in triumph until they had passed out of sight,"--tweaking his
feathers, no doubt, and threatening to scalp him the next moment.

That near relative of the kingbird, the great crested flycatcher, has
one well-known peculiarity: he appears never to consider his nest
finished until it contains a cast-off snake-skin. My alert
correspondent one day saw him eagerly catch up an onion skin and make
off with it, either deceived by it or else thinking it a good
substitute for the coveted material.

One day in May, walking in the woods, I came upon the nest of a whip-
poor-will, or rather its eggs, for it builds no nest,--two elliptical
whitish spotted eggs lying upon the dry leaves. My foot was within a
yard of the mother bird before she flew. I wondered what a sharp eye
would detect curious or characteristic in the ways of the bird, so I
came to the place many times and had a look. It was always a task to
separate the bird from her surroundings, though I stood within a few
feet of her, and knew exactly where to look. One had to bear on with
his eye, as it were, and refuse to be baffled. The sticks and leaves,
and bits of black or dark brown bark, were all exactly copied in the
bird's plumage. And then she did sit so close, and simulate so well a
shapeless, decaying piece of wood or bark! Twice I brought a companion,
and, guiding his eye to the spot, noted how difficult it was for him to
make out there, in full view upon the dry leaves, any semblance to a
bird. When the bird returned after being disturbed, she would alight
within a few inches of her eggs, and then, after a moment's pause,
hobble awkwardly upon them.

After the young had appeared, all the wit of the bird came into play. I