^°''8^^^] DwiGHT, The Philadelphia Virco. 265 



season he keeps altogether in the bushes, warbling now and then, 

 as if under his breath, in soft and disjointed measures. Some- 

 times a pair is to be seen rambling together through the low 

 bushes, uttering peculiar soft little clicks and squeaks the while, 

 but I must confess I find them at all times adepts in the art of 

 concealment, although they are never really timid. 



There was one bird that I used to watch by the hour. He was 

 usually to be found singing on a particular twig near the top of a 

 tall poplar, one of a small group that he claimed as his exclusive 

 domain. When I first saw him, flakes of poplar-down were filling 

 the air and lay drifted like banks of snow in every nook and 

 corner, for it was then the middle of June and early summer was 

 in full swing. The daily round of life of my little friend 

 phihtde/p/iicHs seemed to closely correspond with that of others that 

 could not be so regularly studied, and his traits differed in small 

 degree from those of his brethren. He would sing the whole of 

 the morning, scarcely skipping a note for upwards of half an hour 

 at a time. During the song he contrived to keep his body in con- 

 tinual, restless motion as if on the point of taking flight, but in 

 reality he did not even shift his hold on the bough. After a time, 

 impelled no doubt by hunger, he would roam about in the adjacent 

 trees, hopping with deliberation from limb to limb and turning his 

 head from side to side in search of food. Occasionally grasping 

 the very end of a branch he would sway upside down while inves- 

 tigating its insect possibilities, or swiftly pursue and catch in the 

 air some heedless fly. His now interrupted snatches of song 

 were infrequent and his scolding, mewing notes would be heard 

 from time to time. At length descending to the adjacent bushes, 

 he would be joined by his mate, doubtless from her nest, and with 

 soft lisping murmurs they would soon be lost in the tangle. Later 

 on, I would hear him again from the old stand, or before return- 

 ing thither his melody might be heard in some of the small trees 

 that dotted the expanse of bushes. And so the days would slip 

 uneventfully by with alternate periods of song and quiet. 



I feel confident the nests are not placed in the trees, for in the 

 localities where I have found the Vireos an examination of their 

 very tops is accomplished without much difficulty. Besides, the 

 only nest ever taken, that found by Mr. Thompson, was suspended 



