THE WOOD-PEWEE. 127 
XI 
THE WOOD-PEWEE. 
A MONOGRAPH. 
LMOST every person living in the country or 
the suburbs of a town is familiar with the 
house-pewee, or phcebe-bird. It is usually looked 
upon as the sure harbinger of spring. In my boy- 
hood days my parents and grandparents were wont 
to say, “Spring is here; the phoebe is: Singing.” 
And if blithesomeness of tone and good cheer have 
anything to do with the advent of the season of 
song and bursting blossoms, the pewit, as he is 
often called, must be a true herald and prophet. 
He seems to carry the “subtle essence of spring ”’ 
in his tuneful larynx, and in the graceful sweep of 
his flight as he pounces upon an insect. It is quite 
easy to make the transition from his familiar song of 
FPhe-e-by to the exclamation, Spving’s here! by a 
little stretch of the fancy. 
But the phoebe has a woodland relative, a first 
cousin, with which most persons are not so well 
acquainted, because he is more retiring in his habits, 
and seeks out-of the-way places for his habitat. I 
refer to the wood-pewee. If your eyes and ears are 
not so sharp as they should be, you may get these 
