*222 



THE OOLOGIST. 



of the Chewee. Hove his sharp red eyes 

 and how much of beauty we humans 

 can-y in our eyes; or lose when our 

 eyes are not lustrious and mild and in- 

 teresting. 



He gets his name "Erythro'ptlialma" 

 '(Erythrops, red and thalmag eyes) the 

 Greek for "red eyes" from the deep red 

 of his eyes in the summer season. He 

 sees everything that takes place in his 

 neighborhood, out of these all observ- 

 ing eyes, and shows it too and shapes 

 his conduct accordingly. But I find 

 •his greatest beauty in his possession of 

 :generous quantities of black and brown 

 'colors. 



Now, neither of these colors alone, 

 perhaps is much to be admired. 



Everyone seems to like pink color, 

 'but how seldom do we see this color in 

 flowers, where its beauty is not height- 

 ened and set off by the presence of a 

 higher shade of red, or union of green 

 with it; but where pink fades into the 

 polished white of the sea shell, or in 

 'the hectic cheek of a lady whose early 

 fading away is thus heralded: it is the 

 lovliest tint of nature. This combina- 

 tion of the black head, tail and sides of 

 "the Chewee, with the dark brown of the 

 \vings is to me his great "beauty spot." 



Will our lady readers pardon me, 

 when I tell them that the first "nice 

 dress" I bought for my wife after we 

 were married, was this very combina- 

 nation in a silk pattern, a broad black 

 stripe and a narrower brown one, call- 

 ed in those days, forty years ago, bia- 

 dere (byadare) stripe, 



There is something about his mind 

 ; (the Chewee) that forbids him to eat 

 idle bread. He always seems busy. It 

 -is true we do not see what he kicks up 

 the dry leaves so for, and makes such a 

 sudden racket that a thrill of fear often 

 comes over us, lest a viper or a crotilus 

 horridus (rattle snake) is about to strike 

 us, and when we see the harmless cause 

 of our fright, we feel vexed at him. 

 -How often he has thrown my heart in- 



to my throat; for we often hear him, 

 before we see him ; for indeed it would 

 be difficult to seem him, generally, if he 

 should observe proper decorum in the 

 dry black and brown leaves and n<# be- 

 gin to kick them up, and make this 

 frightful racket. 



By the way, if I do like him so, as I 

 have said above, I hope there will be 

 nothing lacking of true friendship, if 

 behind his back, 1 should institute an 

 inquiry into the cause of this peculiar- 

 ity of his kicking up the dry leaves and 

 making a disagreeable noise. I cer- 

 tainly do not think he does this all day 

 long, when he is alone. Does he do it 

 then in our presence out of vanity, toleave 

 the impi*ession that he has a great deal 

 to do in making a support for himself 

 and family ? Or to scare a person who 

 invades his haunts? I wish to be char- 

 itable and to put the best construction 

 I can upon the actions of fellow-beings, 

 but it seems to me that his little crop 

 could not hold the fourth of the fat 

 bugs and vermin he could find by 

 scratching over a quarter of an acre of 

 leaves in a day, as he ought to do if he 

 is as industrious in our absence as in 

 our presence. 



One of the reasons for his popularity 

 is his sprightliness. He^ is never dull, 

 or undecided as to what next is duty. 

 When we come upon him, he gives a 

 few lightning kicks at the dry leaves; 

 hops upon wings, flits, (hardly flies) a 

 few feet to a log, a dead brush or low 

 limb; turns half around a time or two, 

 cries Chewee ! Chewee ! and jumps 

 down again into the leaves and appar- 

 ently resumes his duty. 



How different the dull and striped 

 robin who will fly to some stake or 

 post or rail or the fence, and there sit 

 as motionless as a pump on a log for 10 

 or fifteen minutes, and exhibiting no 

 more signs of life except a few short, 

 nervous jerks of the tips of his wings, 

 than a piece of casting. 



See too all the muscicapa, tribe, which 



