Making an Acquaintance: the White-Eyed Vireo 



By ALFRED C. REDFIELD, Wayne, Pa. 



TO me, the White-eyed Vireo has always been a stranger. Sometimes 

 on my walks I hear his scolding song from the swampy thickets, and 

 catch a glimpse of him as he peers out curiously with his uncanny white 

 eyes in response to my luring squeak. Once I found his nest, but it was soon 

 deserted. Thus I have never come to have that feeUng of friendship toward 

 him that one has for such birds as the Chippie, the Red-eye, or the Wood 

 Thrush. 



When, in mid-May, I heard his song — an explosive, inquiring te who, whee- 

 M-wit — in the thicket, I looked forward to the possibility of a better acquaint- 

 ance. My hopes were not in vain, for on May 27 I came upon the pair, the 

 female diligently building her nest, the male cheering her on with his song, 

 and occasionally rendering material assistance. The nest was a neat cup, 



somewhat deeper than the 

 Red-eye's, hung in the 

 crotch of a low branch of 

 spice bush, just where the 

 brambles of the field meet 

 the bushes of the woodland. 

 The next day the familiar 

 song was not to be heard. 

 For several days the birds 

 disappeared from the 

 thicket, and I began to 

 fear that my intrusion had 

 frightened them from their 

 nest. Imagine my delight, 

 therefore, when on June 2, 

 six days after the discovery, 

 I flushed the Vireo from 

 three eggs. Later a fourth 

 egg was laid, just when I 

 do not know, for I was 

 afraid to visit the nest 

 again for some time. 



By June 11 the eggs 

 had been incubated for nine 

 days. I decided it was 

 now time to attempt to 

 photograph them. When 

 WHiTE.EYEi) VIREO ON NEST I approached the nest, the 



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