A FLYCATCHER AND A SPARROW 261 



scissor-tail, as well as I can determine, is own 

 brother to the kingbird. As I said, he is brim- 

 ming over with spirits. If he gave them no vent 

 he would burst. 



So after a few minutes of quietness, the calm 

 that precedes the storm, he darts into the air, 

 with vehement, mad gyrations, opening and shut- 

 ting his tail feathers spasmodically, and uttering 

 loud cries of one sort and another. Perhaps he 

 flies straight upward, or as nearly so as possible 

 (this is one of the kingbird's tricks), and with 

 tail outspread comes down headfirst like an arrow. 

 He is like a creature full of wine, or like one be- 

 side himself. What he does, he has to do. There 

 is no holding him in. 



Sometimes, when there are two in the air to- 

 gether, and for anything I know at other times, 

 — I teU what I have seen, — they utter most 

 curious, hollow, throbbing, booming noises, such 

 as one would never attribute to any bird of the 

 flycatcher family. They utter them, I say, but I 

 mean only that they make them. How they do it, 

 whether with the throat, the wings, or the tail, is 

 something I have yet to discover. The only book 

 I have at hand makes no mention of such noises, 

 and I was greatly taken aback when I heard 

 them. 



As the reader perceives, I am dealing in first 



