PROFESSIONAL FLY-CATCHING * 



I felt very sorry, for I thought that now there would 

 be no Phoebes in the barn. But in a few days I saw 

 the female on the old nest, preparing to lay, and her 

 mate perched on the apple tree by the door. Husbands 

 were evidently plenty and cheap, especially for a rich 

 widow with such fine property. The new bridegroom 

 looked exactly like the former one, and our mourning 

 was turned into gladness. 



That same season another tragedy occurred in the 

 family of a pair of Wood Pewees. These birds are not 

 so hardy or so early in nesting as the Phoebes, and it 

 was not till the middle of June that I noticed, in driving 

 frequently through a grove of locust trees, that a pair 

 of Wood Pewees were always there in the same spot. 

 "I declare, Ned," I exclaimed, as we drove past again 

 and saw a Wood Pewee in the accustomed place, "there 

 must be a nest right here, and I'm going to stop and 

 look." So I got out of the buggy and immediately 

 saw the shallow nest built over a crotch of an extended 

 branch over the road above my head, about twenty 

 feet above the ground. It contained two young. 



We could not stop then, but a few days later we 

 returned, hoping to photograph the nest and get snap- 

 shots of the old birds, which were not shy. First I got 

 out the reflecting camera, and had Ned climb the tree, 

 hoping that the female would come at him and let me 

 snap her with my twenty-two-inch lens. But she was a 

 meek little body and merely wailed her "pee-ee-ee" 

 from the surrounding trees. I had to chase her around 



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