FAMILY Tyrannid2. 
Phebe ve-bliebt !* the second utterance, with its chopped- 
off syllable, sounding like a bit of mongrel German! The 
whole song is exactly what Mr. Chapman says it is—‘‘ a 
hopelessly tuneless performance.” Then he adds a touch 
of sentiment, and says further: ‘‘ but who that has heard 
it in early spring when the ‘ pussy-willow’ seems almost 
to purr with soft blossoms, will not affirm that Phoebe 
touches chords dumb to more ambitious songsters!” It 
is almost useless to place this ‘‘ tuneless” song on the 
musical staff, yet the positions of the notes will aid one 
to recognize the inflections of the voice; here is the song: 
Phe - be, ve - dliebt Phe - be, ve - bliebt. 
The tones are all burred, and all slurred, so the syllables 
are all lost in ‘‘swishing” whistles. Perhaps, also, the 
tracing of these lines with a pencil may help one to catch 
the rhythm: 
cres- eres. 
a UN CoV, cs eee ye 
Phee — be, ve - biliebt! Phee— be, ve-dliebts 
be oe Among all the singers of the woodland 
Contopus virens 
Piigees itches: 22 Wood Pewee is the sentimentalist. 
May isth His short song of three or four notes 
appeals to us wholly by reason of its apparently emo- 
tional nature. It is to be classed along with Stephen 
Foster’s Old Folks at Home, or the famous old Irish 
melody, The Last Rose of Summer. The little fel- 
low sings along with the Hermit Thrush, in the region 
of the White Mountains, but how absolutely different is 
the burden of his song! There is a touch of sadness to 
the few notes of the Wood Pewee, there are joy and glad- 
ness in the soaring lyric of the Hermit Thrush. Nor is 
this little woodland Flycatcher attractive in appearance; 
he is the plainest of birds, as well as the plainest of 
*My friend, Professor Patton of Dartmouth College, called my 
attention to a similar construction of the song. 
38 
