THE BIG SYCAMORE. 115 



continuously, even when we were standing close 

 by, that if, as is supposed, the birds eat only 

 drones, few but workers would be left in that 

 hive. 



The flycatchers seemed well suited to the syca- 

 more ; they were birds of large ideas and sweep- 

 ing flights. Their nest was at the top of the 

 tree, probably eighty feet from the ground, but 

 when one of them flew down, instead of coining 

 a branch at a time, he would set his wings and, 

 giving a loud cry, — as a child shouts when push- 

 ing off his sled at the top of a steep hill, — he 

 would sail obliquely down from the treetop to 

 the foot of the hillside beyond. When looking 

 for his material he would hover over the field 

 like a phoebe. Then, on returning, unlike the 

 other birds who lived in the tree and used the 

 branches as ladders, he would start from the 

 ground and with labored flights climb obliquely 

 up the air to the treetop. Once his material 

 dandled a foot behind him. The birds seemed to 

 enjoy these great flights. 



Their nest was not finished, and while one 

 went for material, the other — presumably the 

 male — guarded the nest. As there was nothing 

 to guard as yet, it often seemed a matter of 

 venting his own spleen ! When not occupied in 

 arranging his plumes, he would shoot down at 

 every small bird that came upstairs ; a cowardly 

 proceeding, but perhaps he thought it necessary 



