The Wit of the Wild 



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tion, as nearly as I can catch it, but my neigh- 

 bors generally find that too hard, and call the 

 bird phcebe. More extraordinary changes than 

 that have taken place in names from a foreign 

 language, as genealogists well know. 



The family is of fly-catcher stock, and my 

 friends belong to the pewee branch, being own 

 cousins to the aristocratic wood-pewee, whose 

 plaintive pee-ah-wee hints at decayed fortunes, 

 and who holds himself aloof. There are various 

 other relatives, such as the chebec of our gar- 

 dens, the Acadian, the olive-sided, and other 

 woodland sorts. All have the family trait of 

 sitting very erect and waiting for Providence 

 to send insects near enough to be seized by a 

 quick dash their eyesight being microscopi- 

 cally keen. I have read that the kingbird (an- 

 other relative) has been seen to make a dash of 

 more than one hundred feet in order to seize a 

 minute insect near the observer's face. Though 

 the phcebe may get much of its food in morsels 

 too small for us to perceive, and we laugh at the 

 sudden dash and somersault the act requires, 

 and to hear the vicious snapping of the pincer- 



+$ 238 5 



