An Opportunity Interrupted 



By ARTHUR A. ALLEN, Ithaca, N. Y. 



With photographs by the author 



T 



HE Blue -headed Vireo is 

 not a common bird. Even 

 during those periods of its 

 migration when it is most numer- 

 ous and when its numbers may 

 exceed those of a truly common 

 species, there is something in its 

 manner, its mellow note, its clean- 

 cut, well-groomed appearance, that 

 forbids the use of the word com- 

 mon. It is a rare bird. There is 

 something in the atmosphere about 

 it which demands our attention, 

 that rings in its rich song and 

 renders melodious its scolding chat- 

 ter. It is not that he is really 

 such a good songster, not that he 

 is so uncommon, but that his song 

 breathes of the great, wide out-of- 

 doors- — the woods, the deep, un- 

 trodden forest. His is no monoto- 

 nous, all-day job. He sings, when 

 it pleases him, to the great pines and hemlocks, to huge granite boulders, to 

 cold flowing streams. 



The Blue-headed Vireo comes to us at Ithaca inthe second large wave of the 

 spring migration during the latter part of April. This year, to be exact, it was 

 April 26, the same day upon which arrived the Spotted Sandpiper, the Chimney 

 Swift, the Least Flycatcher, the Black-throated Green and Yellow Warblers, 

 the House Wren, Towhee, Brown Thrasher, and Whip-poor-will. He was over 

 a week ahead of his congeners- — the Warbling, Red-eyed, and Yellow-throated 

 Vireos. Frequently he forms the vanguard of this wave, and then he is wel- 

 comed as the herald of excitement to come. Ordinarily he stays with us for 

 about two weeks or until the middle of May, and then passes further north 

 to breed. On very rare occasions he stays with us to raise his young. 



It was on the second of May this year, just six days after his first arrival, 

 that I was arrested by the song of a Blue-head along one of our shaded paths 

 that course the shore of a small lake. Stopping to listen to him, a subconscious 

 attention, I noticed that he had something in his bill, and soon,to my surprise 

 and pleasure, he flew to the low branch of a hemlock and began weaving it 



(296) 



'PEERED OVER AT THE 

 HAND" 



APPROACHING 



