--VIRGINIA STEARNS (Nine years old), Milwaukee, Wis.
Early in December, 1914, my brother and I cut down an old half-dead apple-tree, and on it we found a partly hollow log that the English Sparrows had evidently used for years. As I had my eye out for bird-houses, I confiscated it and finished hollowing it out. It made three log-nests, all of which have been used by bird tenants since then. On February 17, I put up two of the logs on the bank of the Ohio River, at a distance of 40 feet from our house, where they could easily be observed from nine different windows.
The site was ideal for a bird's nest. Below, 127 feet, the Ohio rolled majestically by, flushed with the melted snow that the spring rains brought from the mountains, and dotted here and there with floating cakes of ice. The other bank of the river rose 329 feet above the level of the water. It was heavily wooded and an ideal place for all kinds of birds. As this is right in the path of the Mississippi Migration Route, one could hear the "honk, honk," of Canada Geese, the talking notes of the Old Squaw, and once the maniacal laughter of a Loon, as it followed the Ohio to the mouth of the Beaver River, there probably resting and continuing its journey up the Beaver to its northern nesting-ground. Below, I give the dates of the important events in the Bluebirds' history.
February 28. Three pairs looked at both logs, fought for them, and _my pair_ rented it.
Prior to March 29, the river bank had been burned over twice for the purpose of improving the grass roots, but the Bluebirds never seemed to mind it, although the nest was enveloped in clouds of thick smoke both times. The last two days of March, and the first two of April were cold, below freezing, with a driving snowstorm followed by sleet; but the Bluebirds' activities never ceased. At this time the male passed the night in the nest with the female, 'twinkling' into the log at sunset. The male was very pugnacious, and seemed not to know fear. He would dash with equal courage at a Flicker or a Song Sparrow, when they approached his tree. Once I saw him actually knock a Flicker off a branch. Perhaps he would not have succeeded had the Flicker been aware of his approach, but the Bluebird came up behind and hit him below the belt. When I would go near the nest, the male would utter 'chuckling' notes, as if to scold and frighten me away. On several occasions he came so close that I could almost touch him.