Song Birds and Water Fowl 
An interesting incident of the morning was a 
long and intimate study of a species hitherto 
quite unknown to me—the white-eyed vireo. It 
is not often that one can come close enough to 
a bird to see the whites of his eyes, even if he 
has any whites, which commonly he has not ; 
but this creature was apparently quite as curious 
to study me, as I was to study him, and he 
curtsied around me so closely that I can aver 
he is well named the ‘‘ white-eyed.’’ ‘This is 
perhaps the handsomest of all the vireos (of 
which there are six hereabouts), bright olive- 
green above, almost golden on the crown, 
white on the breast, and yellow on the sides. 
But his chief claim to admiration is his unique 
and voluble song, a sort of vocal jumping-jack, 
uttered with a peculiar dash, which I am at a loss 
how to describe, for it is a musical ejaculation 
that is really indescribable—so rich, piquant, 
and spasmodically humorous, that the snappy 
little creature brought me to his feet—figura- 
tively speaking—on the spot. And to think 
that, until recently, scientists have grouped this 
handsome, innocent, melodious, and jovial 
spirit, with that harsh-voiced, gloomy-coated, 
sullen-hearted bandit, the butcher-bird! and 
all because, forsooth, there happened to be 
Io 
