THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS 31 
but always on the wing. You vagrant fly, you 
purblind moth, beware how you come within his 
range! Observe his attitude, the curious move- 
ment of his head, his “eye in a fine frenzy roll- 
ing, glancing from heaven to earth, from earth to 
heaven.” 
His sight is microscopic and his aim sure. 
Quick as thought he has seized his victim and is 
back to his perch. There is no strife, no pursuit, 
—one fell swoop and the matter is ended. That 
little sparrow, as you will observe, is less skilled. 
It is the Socialis, and he finds his subsistence prop- 
erly in various seeds and the larve of insects, 
though he occasionally has higher aspirations, and 
seeks to emulate the pewee, commencing and end- 
ing his career as a flycatcher by an awkward chase 
after a beetle or “miller.” He is hunting around 
in the grass now, I suspect, with the desire to in- 
dulge this favorite whim. There!—the opportu- 
nity is afforded him. Away goes a little cream- 
colored meadow-moth in the most tortuous course 
he is capable of, and away goes Socialis in pursuit. 
The contest is quite comical, though I dare say it 
is serious enough to the moth. The chase contin- 
nes for a few yards, when there is a sudden rush- 
ing to cover in the grass, —then a taking to wing 
again, when the search has become too close, and 
the moth has recovered his wind. Socialis chirps 
angrily, and is determined not to be beaten. Keep- 
ing, with the slightest effort, upon the heels of the 
fugitive, he is ever on the point of halting to snap 
