In the matter of incubating each took part, though the female devotes by far the more time, usually remaining on the nest from one to two hours, when the old man would spell her for about twenty minutes, in which time she makes her toilet and indulges her insectivorous appetite. At the end of two weeks they carried out of the nest and dropped, as they flew across the yard, the broken fragments of shell. Now the greatest of all mysteries has taken place. Like some beautiful creation of art that is to be, but as yet is an unexpressed thought in some human brain, so the bird within the egg is but a thought till, warmed by the parent’s soft downy breast, the life lines throb and pulsate till the swelling life within bursts the shell. Now instead of eggs requiring warmth the old birds have two hungry mouths demanding food, that keeps them busy. Yet they knew it, knew it all from the very first; every act was intelligent, not instinctive. During the first days of the baby birds, much care was given to the preparation of their food; the legs, wings and antennae were removed from each bug or beetle. On some dead limb convenient to the nest, a small hole the size of a lady’s thimble had been prepared, and into this improvised mortar the body of the insect was placed and pounded to a pulp before feeding. This care was not long continued, as the young birds were soon capable of eating whatever is given them. The next ten days were full of business for my neighbors. Throughout the days they were constantly in pursuit of the passing life that filled the air. Each catch was quickly delivered to the baby birds, whose appetite seemed never to be satisfied. The young birds quickly grew to be squabs, and their bodies were covered with a downy coat resembling fur more than feathers. Soon came the last week in the home before their formal “coming out.” Feathers quickly took the place of down; the rapid feeding was greatly lessened, to which the baby birds made constant complaint in a whimpering cry as they peeked out of the nest into the big world where so soon they were to be launched on their first flight, never to return to the nest. II. It was about the tenth of May of the following spring when my red-headed neighbor returned from his southern trip, where he had spent the winter. He was soon hard at work and had the lawn sprinkled with his white chips about the root of a pine stub, as he burrowed into the wood a few feet above, where he was making a new nest, the spot having been selected during the past summer. Here, at that time, he had done some preliminary work in the way of a prospect hole, evidently with the view of returning. With a quick hammer-like stroke of the head, he drove his sharp polished beak into the decaying wood, rapidly repeating the strokes till the pulpy fiber was broken down and then with a mouthful of the loosened fragments, he hitched back out of the entrance, flinging the chips to the wind.