I go American Birds 



forth from the rose stakes to the fence. Occasionally they 

 flew up under the eaves and sat on the wire. Then I felt 

 sure they would make their home just above the vine on 

 the bracket. But they made no beginning of nest building, 

 although they roosted on the wire at night. They flew 

 about uttering plaintive " De-ars " as if they couldn't 

 really decide. 



Phoebes do not seem to look on the bright side of 

 things. They have a pathetic, complaining note which 

 would catch your ear any time among the general chorus 

 of bird notes. It doesn't seem to be a complaint, how- 

 ever, but just their serious way of taking life. They 

 never seem really joyous ; they are alert and light in move- 

 ment, but they lack the brightness of other birds — per- 

 haps life is too full of business. 



Day after day for more than a week the pair of 

 phoebes inspected my neighbor's eaves; then one morning 

 I saw a pair of linnets nosing about in the vine just below 

 the wire where the phoebes roosted. The phoebes saw 

 them, too, and straightway decided to build a nest on the 

 bracket, for they commenced carrying mud and straws. 

 But they had waited too long. The linnets needed but 

 one look, for the thick vine was just suited to their needs. 

 Then when I saw the female linnet come with a string I 

 knew there was trouble in the air. But to my surprise 

 things did not come to a crisis till three days later. 



The phoebes were just beginning the walls of their 

 home. One of the birds was at the bracket when the red- 

 headed linnet and his mate arrived. Without a second's 

 pause there was a dash of red and gray and a whirl of 

 black and white. I heard angry shrieks and frightened 



