Two mountain-ash trees on the place were infested by borers, though only slightly and only near the ground, and at the foot of one of these trees the Downy Woodpeckers made many a stand, while they probed the borer-holes with their bills.
The Cuckoos came boldly into the village and fed and fed, flying about quite openly. The Nuthatches flew to a band of caterpillars on a tree-trunk, and were so busy and absorbed in devouring the crawlers that I could put my hand on them before they started to fly, and then they merely flew to another tree close by, and attacked another mass of caterpillars.
Blackbirds waddled over the grass by the sides of the streets picking up the crawlers, and even a Woodcock spent several hours in the garden and on the lawn, apparently feasting on tent-caterpillars, but I could not get near enough to be sure.
The Vireos—White-eyed, Red-eyed, and Warbling—the Cat-birds, Cedar-birds, and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks did good service to the trees and human beings, but the most evident destruction was done by the Chipping Sparrows when the moths emerged late in the summer. The moths were very abundant after four o'clock in the afternoon, flying about the trees to lay their eggs, and then the Chippies became fly-catchers for the time, and flew straight, turned, twisted, dodged, and tumbled 'head over heels and heels over head' in the air, just as the course of the hunted moth made necessary. A quick snap of the beak, and four brownish wings would float down like snowflakes, and their numbers on the walks, roads and grass showed how many thousands of moths were slain. In spite of the unwonted exercise the Chippies waxed fat, but not as aldermanic as the Robins, which, earlier, gorged themselves on the caterpillars until, as one observer said, "their little red fronts actually trailed on the ground."—Caroline G. Soule, Brookline, Mass.
An Odd Nesting Site
I have never seen an account of a House Wren taking up his abode in another bird's nest. It seemed, therefore, at first incredible when, early this summer, we saw a Wren frequenting a deserted Baltimore Oriole's nest and apparently start housekeeping in it. This nest was in one of the outermost branches of a large sugar maple about twenty feet from the ground and the same distance from the farm-house, and was completely filled with twigs by its tenants. The little Wren's choice was the more remarkable, in that a number of bird houses had been placed about the grounds for their special accommodation. I believe none of these were occupied, and this pair deliberately preferred the Oriole's nest.—L. H. Schwab, Sharon, Conn.
