382 THE OLIVE-SIDED FLYCATCHER. 
more, and is, fortunately, quite unforgettable. Both in accent and energy 
it seems to set the pace for several of the lesser Tyrants. Of course, like 
many another of the voices of Nature, its interpretation depends a good 
deal upon the mood of the listener. Heard on a dull day at sea-level it 
may sound dismal enough, but heard in the sharp air of the mountains it 
becomes an exultant note. ‘There are miners in the heart of the Cascades 
who regard the brisk evening greeting of this Flycatcher as one of the 
compensations of solitude. “Three cheers!” the bird seems to say to one 
who returns from the silent bowels of the earth and grasps again the facts 
of outer life. 
Borealis is a bird of the tree-tops and nearer you cannot come, save 
in nesting season, when caution is thrown to the winds and a study in 
morbid psychology is all too easy. ‘The birds place a rustic saucer of inter- 
woven black rootlets and mosses on the upper side.of a horizontal branch, 
whether of hemlock, fir, or cedar, and, as often as otherwise, at moderate 
heights. They are very uneasy at the presence of strangers and flit about 
with a restless, tittering, cry, tew-tew, tew-tew, or tew-tew-tew, a sound 
which strangely excites the blood of the odlogist. Once the nesting tree is 
made out and the ascent begun, the birds are beside themselves with rage, 
and dash at the intruder with angry cries, which really stimulate endeavor 
where they are intended to discourage it. 
How fatal is the beauty of an egg-shell! There be those of us who 
have drunk so oft of this subtle potion that the hand goes out instinctively 
to grasp the proffered cup. Besides, the product of an Olive-side’s skill 
is of a very special kind—a rich cream-colored oval, warmed by a hint of 
living flesh and splotched with saucy chestnut. It is irresistible! But, 
boys, don’t do it! We are old topers ourselves; public sentiment is against 
us, and our days are numbered. It is right that it should be so. Besides 
that, and speaking in all seriousness now, while it is desirable and necessary 
that a few representative collections of natural history should be built 
up for the public use, it does not follow that the public good is secured 
by the accumulation of endless private hordes of bird’s-eggs—whose logical 
end, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, is the scrap-heap. You are 
probably one of the ninety-nine. Think twice before you start a collection 
and then—don’t! 
