NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH 
descendant of a “younger son” of the Phcebe 
family. Their song bears a strong family 
resemblance, but is voiced in a plaintive 
minor key expressing some weight of woe 
which lies heavy on that tiny heart. He is 
not always sad, however, for when the wee 
olive sweetheart has consented to be his, the 
music fairly bubbles from his throat in 
ecstasy. 
The only brood I ever watched had dimin- 
ished to one before I found it, and that one 
was. nearly ready to fly. We could see his 
pretty head over the edge of the dainty 
nest on the lowest branch of an oak-tree. 
The father was very proud of him, and 
exceedingly anxious when we borrowed him 
to photograph. Of course to him he was 
the brightest and handsomest of babies, but 
to me he seemed unusually stupid. In spite 
of all we could do, he insisted on going fast 
to sleep on the perch, looking as ragged and 
distressed as possible. The sun shone very 
bright and warm upon him, and possibly 
this was a pewee’s method of taking a sun- 
