But the little Golden-crowned Kinglet, a mere mite of flesh and feathers, but with a great deal of spirit, builds a much handsomer nest. It is the perfection of symmetry. Man could not make with all the appliances at his command any thing more nearly globular. But its beauty! It looks like a ball of green moss, the delicate patches of moss being so artfully arranged as to completely hide the dry stems of grasses that constitute the walls. No moss ever spread itself over the ground, or over a stump or tree-trunk, more evenly. When it is known that this Kinglet builds its nest among the slender feathered branches of the hemlock spruce, there is manifestly a reason for the fern-like tracery upon the exterior, so necessary for the preservation of its home. Such a handsome and imposing structure would be far from complete were the inside not in keeping with the outside. But the birds have left nothing to be desired in this particular. The softest and purest of down lines the little bed-chamber, and even swells in its lightness till ready to overflow the neat circular door-way.
GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLETS.
Nest the Perfection of Beauty and Symmetry.
Perhaps the most graceful thing you may ever expect to find when on the quest, fitted to be considered the work of the fairies, is the pretty lace hammock of the Parula Warbler. You must search for it early in June, in remote but thin woods, but never far from running water. Often you will see it upon a branch overhanging a stream. The slender twig of a birch is sometimes chosen for its suspension, the terminal spray of a hemlock spruce, or a horizontal branch of a white oak. Like a watch-pocket, with the opening in the side, it is lightly suspended. It is made of a delicate lace-work, the grayish-green usnea moss, that grows on old trees. The whole fabric is the work of two little birds with slate-blue backs and yellow breasts. No other bird of our fauna builds a nest akin to its swinging, eery nest. It is true much of the material is found in position when the builders commence their labor, but the exquisite outline and finish, as well as the cozy interior, are due to the skill of the birds themselves. Even when the structure is just so far completed that occupancy by the female is possible, the male never wearies of its adornment by additional filaments of usnea brought from a distance. He is the happiest of fellows, for his little beak always finds something to do while his patient wife is busy with the duties that lead to maternity.
LACE HAMMOCK OF PARULA WARBLER.
Female Entering Nest and Male Adding to Its Adornments.
Coming like whirling leaves, half autumn yellow, half green of spring, their colors blending like the outer petals of grass-green daffodils, no more sociable and confiding little creatures are to be found in our midst than the Yellow Warblers. They are as much at home in the trees by the house as in the fields and woods. Wherever they wander, the glints of sunshine that flash from their backs should make the most miserable complainer feel the summer’s charm. But in spite of their seeming preference for man, they are prone to build in lonely fields and by-ways. In such places it becomes one of the especial victims which the Cow Bird selects to foster its random eggs. But the Warbler puts its intelligence effectively to work, and builds a second story to its nest, thus flooring over the unwelcome eggs. This expedient is repeated as long as the Cow Bird continues her mischief, until sometimes a three-story nest is achieved. The outside of the nest, composed of glistening milkweed flax, is pressed into a felt-like case, the fibres serving at the same time to lash the nest to its support. Within, to the depth of an inch, is a soft sponge-like material, which the birds have made from the wool they have gathered from the stems of young ferns. A few horse-hairs, to give shape and stability to the nest, are to be found in the inside of the felt-like lining.
THREE-STORY NEST OF YELLOW WARBLER.
Showing the Builder’s Manner of Out-witting the Cow Bird.
Hundreds of nests, quite as novel as any that have been described, might be instanced, showing varieties from so-called normal forms, but I shall content myself with only another example. Everyone is familiar with the Ruby-throated Humming Bird, so common in the eastern half of the United States. It is the smallest of all our birds. But its nest, which is by no means scarce, is a rare sight to the average man and woman. No nest can be compared with it. It is a thing of beauty and a joy forever. A mass of cotton, with a hole in the top, and thatched all round with blue-gray lichens, and just as big as a walnut, conveys a good idea of its appearance. But all nests are not made of cotton. The yellow wool that forms the dress of the undeveloped fern-frond, or the red shoddy that is wind-swept into heaps outside some woollen factory, is often made to take the place of the down of the seed of the poplar. Not to be mentioned in the same breath with these, is the nest I am now about to describe. It was saddled upon the horizontal bough of a small white oak-tree that grew on the side of a thicket, and was peculiar from the nature of the material that composed its inner fabric. This substance resembled burnt umber in color, and was as soft as the finest wool, or the fluffiest down, and proved, upon examination, to be the mycelium of a fungus which the builders had gathered from decaying stumps or mildewing tree-branch.