98 



Bird - Lore 



It would be impossible here to take up more than a few of the striking 

 types of this large family of brilliant singers, but it would certainly be doing 

 the whole group an injustice not to mention the wonderful silver and golden 

 songs of one of the black offshoots of the family, Dives dives of Yucatan. This 

 glossy beauty was very common at Chichen-Itza, and was a source of constant 

 marvel from the variety, richness, and volume of its notes. I cannot describe 

 them, nor even remember them concretely, but I was at once reminded of the 

 Pastor Bird I had once heard in the Philadelphia Zoo. It had all the deep- 

 throated richness of the best Oriole songs, combined with a sweetness more 

 Thrush-like and of infinite variation. Among all the varied and rich songs 

 about the place — Wrens, Orioles and Thrushes — on my first morning afield 

 in the continental tropics. Dives made the one deep and lasting impression 

 above all others, in the -classic and thrilling surroundings of the ruined 

 Maya city. 



While Orioles are always within hearing, I think that doubtless the most 

 pervasive and ever-present sounds, in the tropics come from the even larger 

 family of Flycatchers. From the blue, lonesome, plaintive little "phew" of 

 Myiarchus I. platyrhynchus and the equally despondent sighs of some of the 

 Elainias, to the executive "yips" of the Big-billed and Derby Flycatchers, 



these characteristic sounds are ever 

 in the ear. So far as I know, only 

 one Flycatcher can really be pro- 

 claimed as a singer, with a real song 

 different from his ordinary calls and 

 scolds. This one exception is no less 

 distinguished by his coat from the 

 rest of the rather somber-colored 

 family. The gorgeous little Ver- 

 milion Flycatcher has a simple but 

 very sweet song; lispy and thin, but 

 delivered with great devotion. Dart- 

 ing like a flame up into the flood of 

 sunlight, he reaches a point about a 

 hundred feet from earth, and then, 

 with scarlet crest spread out like a 

 hussar's hood and head thrown back, 

 he floats lightly down on trembling wings, lisping in ecstasy his poor, sweet 

 little song, Cirivi' cirivi' cirivi' . It is hardly noticeable, even among the little 

 Finch twitters along the roadside, but for a Flycatcher it is remarkable; and 

 surely no gifted Thrush or Lark ever went to his matins more devoutly. It 

 is a strange contrast to the usual Flycatcher utterances, which are loud, 

 raspy, egotistic, and highly commandeering. Our Kingbird is a fair example 

 of the family, with the Greatcrest as a good amplifier of the impression. It 



DERBY FLYCATCHER 

 (Pitangus sulphuraius derbianus) 



