408 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
from its note. This is, however, very variable, and hardly any two 
birds give it the same rendering. One has a prefatory “ chick,” in 
addition; another tacks the extra “chick” on at the end of his 
version; while others cut it short, or jumble it all up together at 
random. One particular variety is “ ginger-beer-quick,” a call very 
much adapted to the climate of Bermuda. In short, there is no end 
to the variations; and a stranger might well imagine, as I did 
myself at first, that there was more than one species present. It 
was some little time before I settled the matter to my own 
satisfaction by careful observation of every “chick” I heard 
singing, as | expected to meet with V. gilvus or V. Belli among 
the numerous musicians. The colour of the iris increased my 
difficulty, as I found it to be brownish, brownish gray, or gray— 
rarely white, as stated by authors. I presume it is only fully adult 
birds that show the real white iris; young birds have it decidedly 
brownish, and I have seen a female sitting on eggs with an 
undeniable brownish gray “cast” in her bright little eye. It 
would be a waste of time and valuable space to describe the pretty 
pensile nest of this species, so familiar to all ornithologists. I 
have found it usually from three feet to twelve feet above the 
ground, in cedars, mangroves, Bermuda “holly,” pomegranate, and 
lemon trees, but most commonly in cedars. I never met with 
more than three egys or young in one nest; authors assign four or 
five to the genus. The eggs average ‘71 in. by °52 in., white, with 
a few dark brown or black dots; some are entirely white. The 
young at first have the yellow of the wing bars and forehead very 
pale and dingy. This is a sad little torment to the collector. It 
comes hissing and scolding within a foot of one’s head, puffing 
itself out with malignant fury. I have touched one with my gun 
in the thick bushes before it would budge an inch. And when one 
is on the gui vive for rarities among the big cedars, the little 
wretches will come from all parts to irritate and deceive one, 
playing all sorts of antics on the topmost branches, apparently 
imitating the movements of a Dendroéca or other Sylvicola, in 
order to induce one to waste a charge on them. Several times 
they succeeded with me; and on one occasion, the bird having 
lodged at the top of a very ugly-looking tree, I tore my hands and 
clothes to pieces in my anxiety to secure the supposed prize. 
But in spite of this I have a great regard for the cheerful, restless 
little fellows, whose presence does so much to relieve the monotony 
