Some Nesting Habits of the Wood Pewee 



By AMANDA ELLIOTT, New Castle. Ind. 



'^ I "VHE bird is very watchful, and never lets any one see her on the nest," 



I I had read of the Wood Pewee, and so was elated to find, on June 24. 

 ~^ a nest by seeing the bird tly to it and nestle down. 



Then, purposing to learn all that might be possible of a Pewee's home-keep- 

 ing, I seated myself where I could best see it, and for two hours watched con- 

 tinuously the nest, probably forty feet above me, in the crotch of a dead branch 

 of a maple, and timed the frequent comings and goings of the bird. 



Once in each hour, by looking away I lost the exact moment of the bird's 

 return, but only that. The Pewee would seem hardly more than quietly settled 

 over her eggs, for she was evidently sitting, than she would glide off and away 

 to a neighboring tree to watch for prey. First from one perch, then from another, 

 she would alertly watch, then with a graceful sweep dart out and seize some insect 

 and return. Flying to her nest, she would usually alight on its edge, though once 

 or twice she was seen to perch first on a near-by twig, then prettily slip down upon 

 the eggs. 



There were four flights during the first hour, after an average time of eleven 

 minutes on the nest, the absences averaging four minutes; five flights during the 

 second hour, after an average of ten minutes on nest, the searches for food occupy- 

 ing two minutes each. This was between two and four o'clock in the afternoon. 



No sound was made by the bird either on or off the nest, save a sort of snap- 

 ping sound when on the wing, which sound might be taken to be made by the 

 bill when an insect was captured. I failed, however, to discover the cause. 



During these two hours of watching the nest, the male was neither seen nor 

 heard, but at 3.50 o'clock on the next morning, an unusually cool one, his familiar 

 note rang out. Pe-a-wee, pe-a-wee, he sang, and morning after morning after- 

 wards I listened to hear him, to find the time at which he began his singing. 

 Whether he really was the second bird to waken, he was the second one each 

 day that I noted, the Robin always singing first. 



On this morning of the 25th I discovered, to my great delight, that the nest 

 could easily be seen from my window. At 4.10 a.m. o'clock the bird was on the 

 nest, and again I determined on a long watch. At 4.34 o'clock what I took to 

 be the very first of the day's flights from the nest was made, but the bird was 

 home again by the time I had jotted down so much. Once during the time of 

 watching — from 4.10 to 6.08 o'clock — I again lost the exact moment of one flight, 

 this time a flight from the nest, but, in all, twelve times the bird went in search 

 of food, the absence from the nest being of shorter duration than in the warmer 

 afternoon — sometimes one minute, sometimes only half as long; again one 

 minute and a half, only once so long as three minutes, and, save for that time, 

 only once so long as two. Two or three times during the two hours the male 

 perched on a twig near the nest. 



(154) 



