These are among the most fascinating of bird cradles, particularly in this piece of woods where there are many birch trees, from which the vireo obtains fine, silky shreds of the beautifully tinted bark and weaves into the nest with the most exquisite effect, giving unusual delicacy of color and texture. The redeye has also the most remarkable habit of arranging the nest so that it shall be quite hidden by the leaves, often with one leaf which serves as a roof and protects the young or eggs from sun and rain; and if they would only keep quiet they would usually be quite safe, but instead, the moment any one appears they make so much noise that attention is attracted to them at once, and you begin naturally to look for the cause. Even then it may be some time before the nest is discovered, as there are usually only one or two points from which a view of it can be obtained and a single leaf will sometimes quite conceal it. Possibly there are circumstances in the life of a redeyed vireo which, if known, would account for his irritability and egotistical belief that all eyes are upon him with evil intent; but our eyes are dull, and one could wish at times that his trials, whatever they may be, might sweeten his temper. I do know, at least, that redeyed vireos are much tormented by that plague of bird life, the cowbunting, which delights in laying her eggs in the redeye’s nest; and nowhere could they be placed where they would cause more discomfort, for the vireo’s nest is a delicate structure and none too large for its own nestlings. I think the cowbird often injures the nest when she lays her egg, as she probably gets in and out of it with more or less haste, being hurried by the aggrieved owners, for not only do the young vireos fall out of the nest, but even the interloping cowbird sometimes falls out before he is able to fly and meets his death by a tumble before he is prepared to leave the nest.