The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-05-25


deserted home of the prairie dog,
who like some of the human family,
is possessed of mania for work, and
is constantly engaged in adding to
the rooms and passages of his below
ed underground city. There are al
ways plenty of unused apartments,
and in these the most comical bird
on the continent finds home, dwell
ing in most unbird like fashion, the
whole family in the house together,
and often presenting the droll sight
of family group sitting quietly
around the door, enjoying the fresh
air.
Quite otherwise is the idea of Sc
curity worked out by an oriole, who
swings her airy hammock from the
end of one of the top branches of a
tall tree. 1t is, to be sure, beyond
reach of many nest robbers, but it is
good mark for sticks and stones,
and it becomes dangerous in a high
wind, which not infrequently losses
the ambitious younglings, clinging
to the edge of it, upon cold world,
before they are fit to weather a gale.
Security and concealment combine
in the selection of nesting site by
the red-winged blackbird, who ties
her beautiful woven snuggery to sew
eral reeds in swamp, far enough up
to avoid drowning her little folk, and
far enough down from the top to be
out of sight of the curious. When
her speckled and streaked youngsters
attain the venturesome age they
climb the reeds, and get their fresh
air and receive their food from above.
None of these swaying and swing
ing structures meet the wants of an
other class of our fellow creatures in
feathers. Homes as solid as we like
ourselves suit them best, and they
uuu IL OdoiCct w eOCui0 WHdI tuoy
like by taking advantage of our
buildings.
There is the phoebe, who modestly
places her nursery on beam in
COW shed, or under a bridge; there
too is the barn swallow, who builds
her mansion of clay on the rafters
under our barn roofs; and the cave
swallow, who plasters her mud re-
torts under the caves outside.
There are the bluebirds and mar
tins, the wrens and chickadees who
like best some dwelling put up for
them by man. One of them, the mar
tin, it is said, refuses in these days
to stay where home is not provided
for him. You put up no martin boxes
you have no martins. While if you
put up hundred, as our dear Celia
Thaxter did on her beloved island,
you have hundred martin families
on your place.
His love, not for man, bnt for the
structures of man Git is inconce.vable
that he should love his persecutors),
secures to us the pest of our cities,
the house sparrow. His taste in
building places is catholic in the ex-
IRENE; no bird house is too large or
too small, no window ledge too mar
row, no crevice in a cornice too OBJ
scure; no building is too fine and no
statue too sacred for him to take
possession of, establish his slovenly
nest, and fill with rubbish of the
streets and the dust heaps. to the dis
gust and the despair of the house
keeper.
But he concerns himself not the
least about the Intellectual remon-
STRANGE of the mob down on the earth.
A state of warfare with the human
race is his native state. Serenely he
seeks out his especial nook and places
Aluu5Cll buClOlu, anu buOulluR duQ
raving and tearing of hair under his
feet disturbs not the peaceful con-
tentment of his soul
Differing from all these are certain
covered birds homes, where the idea
seems to be not SO much concealment
as warmth and protection. Such are
the nests prepared by some of the
wrens; not the house wren of the
boxes, but the winter wren who dwells
apart from men, and pours out his
marvellous rhapsodies in the woods;
and the marsh wren, who selects a
swamp and sings to the frogs. These
birds. make nest like ball, princi-
pally of moss, and larger than GRO
quet ball, with tiny entrance on one
side, and they putt sometimes among
the roots of fallen tree, and again
in an inconspicuous place about an
old stump, but always near the
ground, where tn y spend most Of
their lives. These little wren balls
are very interesting when, later in the
season, they are packed full of the