The Baltimore oriole is a weaver, and it makes its nest out of bark, fine grass, moss, and wool, strengthening it, when circumstances permit, with pieces of string or horse-hair. This nest, pouch-shaped, and open at the top, is fastened to the branch of a tree, and sometimes is interwoven with the twigs of a waving bough. The threads of grass and long fibers of moss are woven together, in and out, as if by machinery; and it seems hard to believe that the little birds can do such work without help.
The tailor-bird of India makes a still more curious nest: it actually sews, using its long, slender bill as a needle. Birds that fly, birds that run, birds that swim, and birds that sing are by no means rare; but birds that sew, seem like the wonderful birds in the fairy-tales. Yet they really exist, and make their odd nests with great care and skill. They pick out a leaf large enough for their nest, and pierce rows of holes along the edges with their sharp bill; then, with the fibers of a plant or long threads of grass, they sew the leaf up into a bag. Sometimes it is necessary to sew two leaves together, that the space within may be large enough.
This kind of sewing resembles shoemakers' or saddlers' work; but, the leaf being like fine cloth and not like leather, perhaps the name "tailor-bird" is the most appropriate for the little worker. The bag is lined with soft, downy material, and in this the tiny eggs are laid—tiny indeed, for the tailor-bird is no larger than the hummingbird. The weight of the little creature does not even draw down the nest, and the leaf in which the eggs or young birds are hidden looks like the other leaves on the trees; so that there is nothing to attract the attention of the forest robbers.
Another bird, called the Indian sparrow, makes her nest of grass-woven cloth and shaped like a bottle. The neck of the bottle hangs downward, and the bird enters from below. This structure, swinging from a high tree, over a river, is safe from the visits of mischievous animals.
Is it any wonder, then, that birds and their nests have always been a source of delight to thinking man?
With no tools but their tiny feet and sharp little bills, these feathered songsters build their habitat, more cunningly and artfully than any artisan could hope to do even after a long apprenticeship.
SELECTION X
THE HUNTERS
In the bright October morning
Savoy's Duke had left his bride.
From the Castle, past the drawbridge,
Flowed the hunters' merry tide.
Steeds are neighing, gallants glittering
Gay, her smiling lord to greet,
From her splendid chamber casement
Smiles the Duchess Marguerite.