PHGBE. 81 
Knowing that the vocal organs of the flyeatch- 
ers are undeveloped, you are not surprised by the 
contrast they present to the sweet-voiced sparrows 
and finches, the talkative catbird, and the bobo- 
link, who is always bubbling over with song, nor 
do you wonder at the abrupt call of the pheebe. 
Although it resembles a jerking repetition of 
- phoe-be, phe-be, it is not precisely what the word. 
would indicate. The first part of the call is com- 
paratively clear, but the second is a longer rasping 
note, with a heavily trilled 7, making the whole 
more like pha-ree, pho-ree. 
When the birds first begin coming north you 
hear this note. When you have traced it to its 
source, — and it is an excellent habit to see every 
bird whose notes attract your attention, — the dull 
olive gray coat and the whitish vest, with its 
tinge of pale yellow, are soon forgotten in watch- 
ing the odd ways of the bird. 
Somewhat longer than a song sparrow, — two 
thirds as large as a robin, — he is strikingly unlike 
the cheery, busy sparrow, or, in fact, like any of 
the birds we have had. There he sits on a branch, 
in an attitude that would shock the neat songsters. 
His wings droop at his sides, and his tail hangs 
straight down in the most negligent fashion. He 
seems the personification of listlessness ; but, — 
focus your glass on him, — his wings are vibrating, 
and his tail jerks nervously at intervals. Suddenly 
he starts into the air, snaps his bill loudly over an 
