Yet among the majority of our song-birds the male is most conspicuous both by his color and manners and by his song, and is to that extent a shield to the female.  It is thought that the female is humbler clad for her better concealment during incubation.  But this is not satisfactory, as in some cases she is relieved from time to time by the male.  In the case of the domestic dove, for instance, promptly at midday the cock is found upon the nest.  I should say that the dull or neutral tints of the female were a provision of nature for her greater safety at all times, as her life is far more precious to the species than that of the male.  The indispensable office of the male reduces itself to little more than a moment of time, while that of his mate extends over days and weeks, if not months.[1]

[Footnote 1:  A recent English writer upon this subject presents an array of facts and considerations that do not support this view.  He says that, with very few exceptions, it is the rule that, when both sexes are of strikingly gay and conspicuous colors, the nest is such as to conceal the sitting bird; while, whenever there is a striking contrast of colors, the male being gay and conspicuous, the female dull and obscure, the nest is open and the sitting bird exposed to view.  The exceptions to this rule among European birds appear to be very few.  Among our own birds, the cuckoos and blue jays build open nests, without presenting any noticeable difference in the coloring of the two sexes.  The same is true of the pewees, the kingbird, and the sparrows, while the common bluebird, the oriole, and orchard starling afford examples the other way.]

In migrating northward, the males precede the females by eight or ten days; returning in the fall, the females and young precede the males by about the same time.

After the woodpeckers have abandoned their nests, or rather chambers, which they do after the first season, their cousins, the nuthatches, chickadees, and brown creepers, fall heir to them.  These birds, especially the creepers and nuthatches, have many of the habits of the Picidae, but lack their powers of bill, and so are unable to excavate a nest for themselves.  Their habitation, therefore, is always second-hand.  But each species carries in some soft material of various kinds, or, in other words, furnishes the tenement to its liking.  The chickadee arranges in the bottom of the cavity a little mat of a light felt-like substance, which looks as if it came from the hatter’s, but which is probably the work of numerous worms or caterpillars.  On this soft lining the female deposits six speckled eggs.

I recently discovered one of these nests in a most interesting situation.  The tree containing it, a variety of the wild cherry, stood upon the brink of the bald summit of a high mountain.  Gray, time-worn rocks lay piled loosely about, or overtoppled the just visible byways of the red fox.  The trees had a half-scared look, and that indescribable wildness which lurks about the tops of all remote mountains possessed the place.  Standing there, I looked down upon the back of the red-tailed hawk as he flew out over the earth beneath me.  Following him, my eye also took in farms and settlements and villages and other mountain ranges that grew blue in the distance.