THE PnCEBE'S TALK. 33 



board. They were plastered against a perfectly 

 plain painted board. 



Another bird whom I caught in a new role, 

 apparently giving a lesson in food-hunting to a 

 j^oungster, was a phcebe. Hearing a new and 

 strange cry, mingled with tones of a voice 

 familiar to me, I looked up, and discovered a 

 young and an old phoebe. The elder kept up 

 a running series of remarks in the tone peculiar 

 to the species, while the infant answered, at 

 every pause, by a querulous single note in a 

 higher key. Every moment or two the instruc- 

 tor would fly out and capture something, talking 

 all the while, as if to say, " See how easy it is ! " 

 but careful not to give the food to the begging 

 and complaining pupil. No sooner did the par- 

 ent alight than the youngster was after him, 

 following him everywhere he went. After a 

 while the old bird flew away, when that deceiv- 

 ing little rogue took upon himself the business 

 of fly-catching. He flew out, snapped his beak, 

 and, returning to his perch, wiped it carefully. 

 Yet when the elder returned he at once resumed 

 his begging and crying, as if starved and unable 

 to help himself. 



A friend and bird-student, whose home is in 

 these mountains, assures me that the phoebes in 

 this vicinity do not confine themselves to the 

 traditional family cry, but have a really pleasing 



