94 Bird - Lofe 



Durin}2; these weeks of listening, I was trying hard, at every opportunity, 

 to see the singer, but he kept in tall tree-tops usually. However, I had a few 

 good looks, when he was perhai)s twenty feet above me. He certainl}- might 

 readily be confused with the Warbling Vireo as to appearance, "as Reed's 

 Bird Guide states. He had a very short, notched tail, no wing-bars, light line 

 over eye; and the underparts usually looked white, but sometimes showed a 

 faint lemon tinge. He had a way of standing still and giving his mind entirely 

 to his music; but he was very quick in his gleaning, and sang as he gleaned. 

 He was not heard after the middle of July. This is all that I learned that year. 



I wrote to Mr. Harry Piper about this bird, and he directed me to Mr. 

 William Brewster, of Cambridge, Mass. I described my bird to Mr. Brew- 

 ster, and received this from him: 



"Your description of the song fits very well that of the Philadelphia 

 Vireo, which is closely like that of the Red-eye, but yet slightly different, 

 being slower of delivery and less smoothly flowing, and having an occasional 

 note or phrase more or less unlike any that the Red-eye uses. The simple 

 'tweet, very high and sweet,' is one of these notes, and you render it admi- 

 rably. Another is a clear-ringing note, not unlike one that the Solitary Vireo 

 gives. Some Philadelphia Vireos that I have studied could be quickly and 

 certainly distinguished by one or another of these peculiarities of song. 

 Others sang exactly like Red-eyes, so far as I could discern. 



"In good lights, they usually look very yellow beneath; but this is not 

 always the case, and I have seen some that looked no yellower than Red-eyes, 

 while exceptionally small birds of the latter kind occasionally appear no 

 larger than Philadelphias. In other words, it is not always possible to make 

 quite sure of a bird either by hearing or seeing him, unless he is very near 

 and closely scrutinized. I am not sufi&ciently familiar with the fauna of your 

 region to be able to judge if it is likely to include the Philadelphia Vireo as 

 a summer resident, but everything you say inclines me to think that the bird 

 you saw probably belonged to that species." 



Much pleased with this encouragement to believe that what I had already 

 hoped was true, I was eagerly listening again when spring came. On May 

 II, 1913, the first Red-eye announced himself, and, soon after, a Vireo, with 

 the peculiarly sweet voice of my last year's bird, began to be heard on our 

 street, not far from his old stand, but nearer to us. His emphasis and spacing 

 were not like the bird's of last year, but rather more like a Red-eye's, except 

 that every third phrase was different from anything that the Red-eye sings, 

 — weecher, weecher,'' — very rapid, downward inflection, second word higher 

 than the first. Later in the season, this distinctive phrase came in only as 

 fifth or sixth. But always there was the remarkable sweetness of tone. 



I had some very fair looks at the bird, and he was like the one of 191 2, 

 in every point. 



On May 25, I was out at 5.30 a.m., looking for this Vireo, and saw him 



