the ground. The nest was wholly woven and felted with ravellings
of woollen carpet in which scarlet predominated. Would the same
thing have happened in the woods? Or did the nearness of a human
dwelling perhaps give the birds a greater feeling of security? They
are very bold, by the way, in quest of cordage, and I have often
watched them stripping the fibrous bark from a honeysuckle
growing over the very door. But, indeed, all my birds look upon
me as if I were a mere tenant at will, and they were landlords. With
shame I confess it, I have been bullied even by a hummingbird.
This spring, as I was cleansing a pear-tree of its lichens, one of
these little zigzagging blurs came purring toward me, couching his
long bill like a lance, his throat sparkling with angry fire, to warn
me off from a Missouri-currant whose honey he was sipping. And
many a time he has driven me out of a flower-bed. This summer,
by the way, a pair of these winged emeralds fastened their mossy
acorn-cup upon a bough of the same elm which the orioles had
enlivened the year before. We watched all their proceedings from
the window through an opera-glass, and saw their two nestlings
grow from black needles with a tuft of down at the lower end, till
they whirled away on their first short experimental flights. They
became strong of wing in a surprisingly short time, and I never saw
them or the male bird after, though the female was regular as usual
in her visits to our petunias and verbenas. I do not think it ground
enough for a generalization, but in the many times when I watched
the old birds feeding their young, the mother always alighted, while
the father as uniformly remained upon the wing.

The bobolinks are generally chance visitors, tinkling through the
garden in blossoming-time, but this year, owing to the long rains
early in the season, their favorite meadows were flooded, and they