RED-EYED VIREO. 183 
shady forests or tall trees near gardens and the suburbs of 
villages, where its loud, lively, and energetic song is often con- 
tinued, with little intermission, for several hours at a time, as 
it darts and pries among the thick foliage in quest of insects 
and small caterpillars. From its first arrival until August it is 
the most distinguished warbler of the forest, and when almost 
all the other birds have become mute, its notes are yet heard 
with unabated vigor. Even to the 5th of October, still enliv- 
ened by the feeble rays of the sun, the male faintly recalls his 
song, and plaintively tunes a farewell to his native woods. His 
summer notes are uttered in short, emphatical bars of 2 or 3 
syllables, and have something in them like the simple lay of 
the Thrush or American Robin when he first earnestly and 
slowly commences his song. He often makes use, in fact, of 
the same expressions; but his tones are more monotonous as 
well as mellow and melodious, like the rest of the Vireos. In 
moist and dark summer weather his voice seems to be one 
continued, untiring warble of exquisite sweetness; and in the 
most populous and noisy streets of Boston his shrill and tender 
lay is commonly heard from the tall elms; and as the bustle of 
carts and carriages attempts to drown his voice, he elevates his 
pipe with more vigor and earnestness, as if determined to be 
heard in spite of every discord. The call of “ Whip-Zom- 
kelly,” attributed to this species by Sloane and even Wilson, I 
have never heard; and common as the species is throughout 
the Union, the most lively or accidental fit of imagination 
never yet in this country conceived of such an association of 
sounds. I have already remarked, indeed, that this singular 
call is, in fact, sometimes uttered by the Tufted Titmouse. 
When our Vireo sings slow enough to be distinctly heard, the 
following sweetly warbled phrases, variously transposed and 
tuned, may often be caught by the attentive listener: ’/shode 
peweé peeai misik 'du 'dii du, ’tshoove ’hére ’hére, hear here, 
‘Ring 'ritshard,'p shégru 'tshevit, tsheevoo 'tshiivee peeait 'peroi, 
—the whole delivered almost without any sensible interval, with 
eamest animation, in a pathetic, tender, and pleasing strain, 
well calculated to produce calm and thoughtful reflection in 
