FOUR NEIGHBORS DIVERSE 



they made out to find the six which I had already noted. 

 In late spring and pretty much throughout the summer 

 it seems as though one could hardly go anywhere into 

 woodland without hearing the simple monotonous carol 

 of the Red-eye "preacher." If no one listens to his 

 discourse, it makes no difference, for his "preaching" is 

 only intended for home consumption, the expression to 

 his mate of his affection and of their mutual happiness. 



The nest is generally in the fork of a sapling, low 

 down, often within four feet of the ground. The 

 mother bird sits tamely upon her three or four white, 

 sparsely-dotted eggs. I have found it easy to stand 

 the camera near by and photograph her, though she 

 snuggles down so deeply into the cup that little of her 

 can be seen save her head and the top of her back. 



Of all the many Red-eyes' nests which I have seen, 

 none have proved as interesting as one which I found 

 this last June. I was just coming out of the woods 

 back from the shore of a pond, when one of these vireos, 

 flying into the shrubbery, suddenly encountered me 

 face to face. At once it began to scold, and I saw the 

 nest on a low sprout, just to one side. It was newly 

 finished and contained only one egg, not the vireo's, 

 but of the Cowbird parasite. To help the vireo, I 

 removed it, thinking that now the birds might raise 

 their brood in peace. I kept the nest in mind, and, 

 wishing to photograph young vireos, I returned to it 

 twenty-three days later, at the time when the brood 

 ought to be nearly fledged. As I peered into the nest 



202 



