One of them
has excavated a dry limb within easy reach of my hand, doing the work
also in September. But the choice of tree was not a good one; the limb
was too much decayed, and the workman had made the cavity too large;
a chip had come out, making a hole in the outer wall. Then he went a
few inches down the limb and began again, and excavated a large,
commodious chamber, but had again come too near the surface; scarcely
more than the bark protected him in one place, and the limb was very
much weakened. Then he made another attempt still farther down the
limb, and drilled in an inch or two, but seemed to change his mind;
the work stopped, and I concluded the bird had wisely abandoned
the tree. Passing there one cold, rainy November day, I thrust in my
two fingers and was surprised to feel something soft and warm: as I
drew away my hand the bird came out, apparently no more surprised than
I was. It had decided, then, to make its home in the old limb;
a decision it had occasion to regret, for not long after, on a stormy
night, the branch gave way and fell to the ground.
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