250 HOMING WITH THE BIRDS 



writer, who makes tlie vireo a gourmand and hears 

 him sing: 



"Fat worms — plenty to eat — 

 Gobble 'em up — they're sweet — 

 Come, dear — don't delay — 

 I'm here — ^fly this way." 



All these experts do agree upon seems to be that 

 there is a pronounced oratorical effect about the 

 bird's delivery, and that his song is broken into 

 distinct groupings of notes. 



The chestnut-sided warbler warbles a strain of 

 bubbling, rolling notes after the manner of his kind, 

 but his call note is a clear "T'see, t'see." To 

 him is attributed the famous rendition of his song: 

 "I wish, I wish, to see Miss Beecher." These words 

 he enunciates as clearly as any killdeer or Bob 

 White I ever heard afield. 



Every spring our woods are full of warblers. On 

 a day of warm, drizzling rain interspersed with 

 bright sunshine, in May, 1918, the tall trees, with 

 grape vines and bittersweet climbing in tangled 

 masses through the tops, were used as a landing 

 place for a whole flock of warblers, most of them 

 seeming to be males that had arrived in spring 

 migration during the night or early morning. By 

 slipping into the location and remaining motionless 

 against a tree for a few minutes, I saw countless 

 little painted creatures, gleaming in strong tints 

 of yellow and green, black and grey, blue and rose. 



