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The black-throated blue warbler spends the winter months in Guatemala and the West Indies, and migrates north to Labrador and Hudson's Bay, nesting there and in the northern parts of the United States. It ranges west to the border of the plains. |
The nest is placed in low shrubs or bushes from a few inches to two feet above the ground, and is composed of dry fibrous bark, twigs, and roots, lined with black rootlets and hair. The outside is often more or less covered with cocoons. The thick swampy woods with an undergrowth seems to be the favorite resort for the nesting birds. The four eggs are buffy-white to greenish-white, rather heavily blotched with varying shades of brown. They average about .69 x .50 of an inch. |
THE EMPEROR'S BIRD'S NEST.
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Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, With his swarthy, grave commanders — forget in what campaign Long besieged, in mud and rain, Some old frontier town of Flanders. Up and down the dreary camp, In great boots of Spanish leather, Striding with a measured tramp, These Hidalgos, dull and damp, Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather. Thus, as to and fro they went, Over upland and through hollow, Giving their impatience vent, Perched upon the Emperor's tent, In her nest, they spied a swallow. Yes, it was a swallow's nest, Built of clay and hair of horses, Mane or tail, or dragoon's crest, Found on hedge-rows east and west, After skirmish of the forces. Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his gray mustachio, "Sure this swallow overhead Thinks the Emperor's tent a shed, And the Emperor but a macho!" Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, Half in anger, half in shame, |
Forth the great campaigner came Slowly from his canvas palace. "Let no hand the bird molest," Said he solemnly, "nor hurt her!" Adding then, by way of jest, "Golondrina is my guest, 'Tis the wife of some deserter!" Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, Through the camp was spread the rumor, And the soldiers as they quaffed Flemish beer at dinner, laughed At the Emperor's pleasant humor. So unharmed and unafraid, Sat the swallow still and brooded, Till the constant cannonade Through the walls a breach had made And the siege was thus concluded. Then the army, elsewhere bent, Struck its tents as if disbanding, Only not the Emperor's tent, For he ordered, ere he went, Very curtly, "Leave it standing!" So it stood there all alone, Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, Till the brood was fledged and flown, Singing o'er those walls of stone Which the cannon-shot had shattered. — Longfellow. |