PHOEBE 147 



onoe elicits our sympathy and excites our admiration. 

 Its very selection of a nesting site is one that takes us in 

 memory back to the happy days of bare feet and muddy 

 knees, when, as boys, we sought the location of a nest 

 securely mortared against the bark on a log supporting 

 the old-fashioned wooden bridge that spanned our favor- 

 ite fishing branch or creek. Oh, how we all loved to 

 leave the tracks of our bare feet, knees and other parts 

 of our anatomy imprinted on the slick banks underneath 

 the old bridge — the home of the Phoebes ! I am thrilled, 

 in memory, as I write, remembering with what joy we — 

 there are always two or three boys in every country 

 neighborhood — proclaimed the discovery of a PhcEbe'S 

 nest ; and how surprised we were by the flight of the bird 

 from beneath the bridge. 



Like the early prairie settlers who built their homes 

 from the material at hand, the prairie sod or sun-dried 

 bricks or adobe, the Phoebe does not go far for its nest- 

 building material. The nest is beautifully built and se- 

 curely anchored, and often covered with growing moss 

 and lined with feathers and rabbit fur. 



Under a bridge spanning a creek of the Blue Hills 

 golf course a Phoebe built its nest. Hundreds of golfers 

 crossed the bridge with only the thickness of an inch 

 board separating their spiked soles from the head of 

 the incubating bird. The male, perched on a nearby 

 snag, watched tirelessly for insects, singing his song of 

 ''Phoebe, Phoebe!" and wagging his tail in a salute to 

 the passing throng. And, incidentally, he had his photo- 

 graph taken. Later, by the aid of a mirror, I secured 

 some splendid negatives of the nest and young under the 

 bridge. (Fig. 73.) 



