This was unusual, certainly; and I sat
very quiet, very much interested, though a bit puzzled, and a bit
disappointed that they had not gone to their nest. They had some
material in their beaks both times when they appeared on the rail, and
were now probably off hunting for more--for rabbit fur, perhaps, in
the old orchard. But what had they done with it? "Perhaps," I thought,
"they dropped it to deceive me." Chickadee does that sometimes. "But
why did one bird stay on the rail? Perhaps"--Well, I would look and
see.
I left my stump as the idea struck me, and began to examine the posts
of the old fence very carefully. Chickadee's nest was there somewhere.
In the second post on the left I found it, a tiny knot-hole, which
Chickadee had hollowed out deep and lined with rabbit fur. It was well
hidden by the vines that almost covered the old post, and gray moss
grew all about the entrance. A prettier nest I never found.
I went back to my stump and sat down where I could just see the dark
little hole that led to the nest. No other birds interested me now
till the chickadees came back. They were soon there, hopping about on
the rail as before, with just a wee note of surprise in their soft
twitter that I had changed my position. This time I was not to be
deceived by a gymnastic performance, however interesting.
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