THE PHCEBE 



By T. GILBERT PEARSON 



die J^attonal ^s;£(octatton of Hubution ^octettes; 



EDUCATIONAL LEAFLET NO. 93 



There is a little camp in the woods on the New York side of Lake Champlain 

 where three children and their parents go every summer. It is a good place to 

 see birds. In fact, the children are awakened every morning by birds singing 

 in the trees all around them. There are Redstarts and Chestnut-sided Warblers 

 about every day. Near by the Oven Bird calls "teacher, teacher, teacher," 

 until one begins to wonder what has become of that dear instructor. Some- 

 times the old Grouse follows her young through the thicket and under the 

 veranda. In the evening it is pleasant to sit on the porch and listen to the 

 Veeries. Sometimes a dozen sing until the night shuts in upon them. 



Of all the birds, however, that visit "Bird Nest Cottage" the Phoebe is 

 the most trustful. She and her mate may be seen at almost any time, either 

 on the veranda-railing or on some bare limb of a tree near by. 



When the family arrives on the fifteenth of June, the children, after one 

 look in the camp, all rush out to find the Phoebe's nest, and for several years 

 they have never been disappointed. 



Three seasons this bird built under the veranda, placing the nest on cross- 

 timbers. Last summer the nest was made on the top of a window-facing 

 just under the low-hanging eaves. This place would be a very insecure founda- 

 tion for a nest as large as that built by the Phoebe, as the projection is less than 

 an inch from the side of the wall, if the nest were made of sticks and straw, 

 but the Phoebe builds her cradle chiefly of mud, so she can plaster it to the 

 wall almost anywhere that there is just a little support. Moss is usually 

 employed in addition to the mud. 



Four white eggs are laid. These are rarely adorned with a few brown spots. 

 The children, however, have never been able to discover whether this particu- 

 lar Phoebe lays pure white eggs or whether they are spotted. The reason for 

 this is that the eggs are always hatched by the middle of June. 



All day long the plaintive pewit phcebe of the parent birds may be heard, 

 and every few minutes one of them brings food to the nest. 



One night we took an electric torch and climbed down the rocks under the 

 veranda to see what the Phoebe family was doing. There, sprawled all over 

 the top of the nest, were four well-grown youngsters — the parents were nowhere 

 in sight. Had the little ones been hatched only a few days we should probably 

 have found the mother at home, but now there was no need for her presence 

 to keep the babies warm, for they were not only nearly as large as their mother, 

 but well covered with feathers. The night was warm, so it was more com- 



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