Phcehe 167 



Pewit — phoehe, pewit — phcebe, he calls con- 

 tinually. As he perches on the peak of a 

 building or other point of vantage, notice how 

 vigorously he wags his tail when he calls, and 

 turns his head this way and that, to keep an 

 eye in all directions lest a bite should fly by 

 him unawares. 



Presently a mate comes from somewhere 

 south of the Carolinas where she has passed 

 the winter; for phoebes are more hardy than 

 the rest of the family and do not travel all the 

 way to the tropics. With unfailing accuracy 

 she finds the region where she built her nest 

 the previous season or where she herself was 

 hatched. This instinct of returned direction 

 is marvellous, is it not? Sometimes it is 

 hard enough for us humans to find the way 

 home when not ten miles away. Did you ever 

 get lost? Birds almost never do. 



Phoebes Hke a covering over their heads to 

 protect their nests from spring rains, so you 

 will see a domesticated couple going about the 

 place like a pair of wrens, investigating niches 

 under the piazza roof, beams in an empty barn 

 loft and projections under bridges and trestles. 

 By the middle of April a neat nest of moss and 

 lichen, plastered together with mud and lined 

 with long hair or wool, if sheep are near, is 

 made in the vicinity of their home of the year 

 before. The nursery is exquisitely fashioned — 



