Crested Flycatcher 165 



fear, however, when I climbed into their apple 

 tree one June morning, determined to have a 

 peep at the five creamy-white eggs, speckled 

 with brown and pale lilac, that had just been 

 laid in the nest in a crotch near the end of a 

 stout limb. Whirling and dashing about my 

 head, the pair made me lose my balance, 

 and I tumbled ten feet or more to the ground. 

 As the intruder fell, they might well have 

 exclaimed — perhaps they did — ''Sic semper 

 tyrannisF' 



CRESTED FLYCATCHER 



Far more tyrannical than the kingbird is this 

 **wild Irishman," as John Burroughs calls the 

 large flycatcher with the tousled head and 

 harsh, uncanny voice, who prowls around the 

 woods and orchards startling most feathered 

 friends and foes with a loud, piercing ex- 

 clamation that sounds like What! Unlike 

 good children, he is more often heard than 

 seen. 



That the solitary, unpopular bird takes a 

 mischievous delight in scaring its enemies, you 

 may know when I tell you that it likes better 

 than any other lining for its nest, a cast snake 

 skin. Is it any wonder that the baby fly- 

 catchers' hair stands on end? If the great- 

 crest cannot find the skin of a snake to coil 



