THE RED-EYED VIREO, 



"A bird with red eyes! look, 

 mamma," said Bobby. "How 

 funny!" 



"And how beautiful," replied 

 his mamma. "Not plainly 

 dressed, like his cousin, the 

 Warbling Vireo, whose picture 

 you saw in the October number 

 of Birds." 



"The Yellow-Throated, in the 

 June number," said Bobbie, who 

 has a remarkable memory, "was 

 a lovely bird, too, mamma. Can 

 Mr. Red-Eye sing?" 



" No, you can't call his note a 

 song; it is more like a chatter, 

 which he keeps up from morning 

 till night." 



" Like some children," said 

 Bobbie, with a sage nod of the 

 head, "who talk all day long." 



"Yes," smiled his mamma, 

 "without saying very much, 

 either. But this little bird 

 works while he chatters. 



"I reckon he stops at noon 

 time," said Bobbie, "as other 

 birds do." 



"No, even then the silence of 

 the woods is broken by the Red- 

 Eyed Yireo's voice. He is such 

 a busy little fellow, he can't find 

 time for a nap." 



"Hm!" remarked Bobbie; "the 

 other birds must find him a 

 tiresome fellow, I think." 



"Has he any other names, 

 mamma?" 



" Yes, he is called the Red- 

 Eyed Greenlet or Red-Eyed 

 Fly-catcher. One gentleman 

 calls him ' The Preacher.' To 

 him the bird seems to say, ' You 

 see it; you know it; do you hearme9 

 do you believe iff'' 



" I'm going to look out for that 

 red-eyed preacher next sum- 

 mer," said Bobby, with a laugh. 



" One lady who makes a study 

 of birds thinks he says, ^ 1 know 

 it I would you think it? musnt touch 

 it; you II rue it!^ He makes a 

 pause, as you see, after each 

 sentence." 



"Tell me something about 

 their nests?" said Bobbie, 

 deeply interested. 



"They are made of bark 

 fibers, cobwebs, bits of paper, 

 and scraps of hornets' nests, in 

 the form of a little pocket. This 

 is suspended from the fork of 

 two or more twigs high up in 

 the tree, making a sort of cradle 

 for the little ones." 



" Rock-a-by, baby, on the tree top, 

 When the wind blows, the cradle will rock." 



hummed Bobby. "How jolly!" 

 " Yes," said mamma; and they 

 take care that it is under some 

 green leaves, which act as an 

 umbrella to keep the sun out of 

 the mother's eyes while she sits 

 on the four pretty white eggs." 



"And out of the little ones' 

 red eyes, too," laughed Bobbie. 

 "How cute!" 



