Bird lore - Project Puffin

The Audubon Societies 125
mentioned before, thai had evidently escaped the birds. Exactly two months
after the first egg was laid, the second nest of the same pair was nearing com-
pletion in another of my boxes. Here are the dates.
May 29. First egg laid. June i. Fourth egg laid.
May 30. Second egg laid. June i6. Young hatched.
May 31. Third egg laid. June 23. Young have not flown yet.
While the female was incubating, the male still fed the young of the first
brood, although not so often as when they left the nest.
BouLTON, Jr. (Age 14 years), Beaver, Pa.
—
Wolfrid Rudyerd
[Perhaps no better word of appreciation of this carefully worded description of
personal observations could be given than to quote from a letter written by Mr. Herbert
K. Job with reference to the data given by Master Boulton, Jr.: "His accurate information
about the periods of incubation and rearing of the Bluebird came in handy to me
just now, as there is a pair in a bo.x up-state which I want to 'film' at just the right period,
and now 1 can estimate when to make the trip." The pictures illustrating this article
were not only taken, but also developed and finished by the observer.—A. H. W.]
A MUSICAL WOODLAND
Riding on my pony in a thick-set wood, I heard the "Feathered Musi-
cians" playing on their instruments.
First the trill of the Wood Thrush, then the sweet trill of the Meadowlark,
the rapidly repeated 'wickci' of the Flicker, the sweet melody of the Robin,
the charming song of the Song Sparrow, and the 'chip' of the Chipping Spar-
row, were most delightful.
Far off in the distance I could hear the sweet Canary-like whistle of the
Goldfinch and the 'eak' of the Purple Crackle.
The woods rang with the music of the birds, for nothing is so sweet as
natural music.
—
Saraii W. Weaver (Age 11 years), Baltimore County, Md.
("For nothing is so sweet as natural music."
This naive observation brings to mind the gurgle of brooks, waving trcetops, and
hum of busy insects, as well as the music of feathered songsters. It has the essence of
spring in it, when awakening life so quickly voices itself in melody.—A. H. W.j
INTERESTING PERFORMANCE OF A TUFTED TITMOUSE
While taking reftige from a slight April shower on the porch of an unoccu-
pied summer cottage at Lithia Springs, Ga., twenty miles from Atlanta, I
once witnessed an interesting performance by a Tufted Titmouse. Having
chosen a damp brown oak leaf from the ground, it flew with it into a bare tree,
and, holding the leaf with its claw firmly against a branch, it drew itself to its
full height, raised its head like a Woodpecker, and with all the might of its
tiny frame gave a forcible blow to the leaf with its bill. This process was kept
up nearly half an hour. The bird seemed utterly indifferent to the near gres-