. St. Nicholas [serial]. nded in a cornerof the garage. Accord-ingly, I poked it downwith my cane. Fortu-nately, it fell right sideup and I caught it be-fore it reached theground. Inside of it wasa pierced robins eggand the larger light- blue egg of a yellow-billed cuckoo. For a longtime it has been a disputed question as to whetheran American cuckoo ever lays its eggs in otherbirds nests as does the European cuckoo and theAmerican cowbird. This nest of the corporalsseemed proof positive that this does sometimeshappen. Presumably it was the cuckoo who hadpierced the egg of the robin before pla
. St. Nicholas [serial]. nded in a cornerof the garage. Accord-ingly, I poked it downwith my cane. Fortu-nately, it fell right sideup and I caught it be-fore it reached theground. Inside of it wasa pierced robins eggand the larger light- blue egg of a yellow-billed cuckoo. For a longtime it has been a disputed question as to whetheran American cuckoo ever lays its eggs in otherbirds nests as does the European cuckoo and theAmerican cowbird. This nest of the corporalsseemed proof positive that this does sometimeshappen. Presumably it was the cuckoo who hadpierced the egg of the robin before placing her ownthere. Rather than hatch the strange egg, therobin had deserted the nest, and the eggs had re-mained there ever since the summer. But to return after this long detour to my long- ago nesting-route. One morning I must have beenshadowed by some black-hearted old crow as Iwent from thicket to thicket. Indeed, we littleknow how often we are watched and trailed by thewild-folk. The swinging basket of the vireo was. THE SENTINEL SOUNDS HIS WARNING NOTE (SEE NEXT PAGE) No matter how qsentinel would see me uietly I went nor how carefully I hid, some crafty old^efore I came within gunshot torn down and the eggs gone. The catbirdsnest was empty. Three of the newly-hatchedrobins were missing and the fourth lay dying inthe nest. The song-sparrows home was tornto pieces and the eggs missing; while the jewel-box of the chipping-sparrow, too, was the four blunt blue eggs of the cuckoo wereuntouched—such a furtive, uncanny bird thatperhaps even a crow does not care to rob its nest. In the bad old days when I used to shoot, in-stead of study, wild things I shot but one was not for lack of trying. Many and many a 966 THE SKY PIRATE [Sept. time I sneaked through the woods and climbedclear to the top of Pond Hill after a flock of crowsthat was holding a noisy caw-cus. (Excuse me—that bad pun slipped out before I could stop it.)Yet no matter how quietly I went no
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