7% THE SPOTTED FLYCATCHER 



more than compensated by the confidence they repose in the inno- 

 cent intentions of the human beings whose protection they claim, 

 by their strong local attachments, and by their unceasing activity 

 in the pursuit of flying insects. At any time during the months of 

 June, July, and August, in most country and suburban gardens, 

 one may observe perched on a railing, standard rose, or the low 

 branch of an apple-tree, a small brownish bird, with a speckled 

 breast, about the size of a Sparrow, but more slender in form, taking 

 no notice of human beings, but nevertheless evidently on the look- 

 out for something. Suddenly it darts from its position, flies rapidly 

 fonvards for a few yards, performs an evolution in the air, and 

 returns either to the exact spot which it had previously occupied 

 or to a similar one hard by. After a rest of a few seconds, it per- 

 forms the same manoeuvre, and always with the same object and 

 success. Every time it quitted its perch, some ill-fated fly or beetle 

 was discovered, winging its way through the air, and captured to 

 be devoured on the spot, or to form part of a pellet of insect food for 

 a hungry nestling. The nest, composed of moss, straws, and hair, and 

 lined with feathers, is usually placed either against a wall, hidden 

 by the leaves of a trained fruit-tree, or on the horizontal bough of 

 a standard apple-tree. During the year 1859, a pair of these birds 

 had taken up their quarters in my own garden in a situation such 

 as that first described, but becoming dissatisfied with the locality 

 even after the nest had received its complement of eggs — five — 

 deserted it, and built another nest in an apple-tree a few yards off, 

 choosing a position on a short branch, where their workmanship 

 was concealed from the sight of passengers by a cluster of large 

 apples. The bough overhung a path by which many persons passed 

 to and fro every day ; but the nest was built, and the old birds 

 hatched their eggs, neither noticed nor noticing, until one day when 

 I happened to stop underneath, upon which the bird took flight, 

 and so revealed her place of retreat. I do not mention this incident 

 as anything remarkable, but simply to exemplify the habits of the 

 bird when it has taken up its residence in a frequented garden, 

 and in contrast with its treatment of intruders when it has chosen 

 a more secluded spot for a home. A few days after, I happened 

 to be fly-fishing on the bank of a stream close to which grew some 

 tall elm-trees. Under one of these I was pursuing my amusement, 

 when a flycatcher darted from a tree on the opposite side of the 

 stream, and flew so close to my face that to dip my head out of the 

 way was unavoidable. The same movement was repeated again and 

 again, making it impossible for me to persist. Suspecting that 

 there was a nest somewhere very near me, I looked up and dis- 

 covered, within a few inches of my head, a nest built against the 

 bole of the tree, and containing four or five nearly fledged young 

 ones, whose heads and breasts projected considerably beyond the 

 edge of their mossy cradle. As I moved away, the parent bird 



