THE PERCHING BirpDs. 69 
of 1893, while I was sitting at a window in the 
second story of the house, one of these birds came 
to a maple-tree on the street not ten feet away, and 
there, with all the animation of an August forenoon, 
sang its well-known song. This was November 6, 
two days after a cold northeast rain-storm. But usu- 
ally all the vireos are gone before the end of October. 
The song of the red-eye is not readily described. 
It is fairly uniform as different birds sing it, and, once 
heard, it is easily remembered. It may be called an 
‘‘up-and-down” warble, the notes being high and 
low alternately, and have animation or not, as the 
bird happens to feel. The long lists of strangely- 
spelled syllables given by Nuttall convey some 
meaning to those who have learned the song from 
the bird itself, but are a poor equipment if by their 
aid we expect to recognize the bird. Indeed, it is 
not the songs of birds alone that are beyond the 
power of a pen to convey to the minds of others. 
We can describe the plumage, the nest, and the eggs, 
but what of the spiritual part of the bird? It goes 
for little to say that the red-eye is an all-day insect- 
hunter, and builds a thin-walled pensile nest in the 
trees, where among he spends the summer. There 
is an individuality that is more than all else, and yet 
no words can depict it. In all birds there is some- 
thing that we can realize by our eyesight, but must 
keep to ourselves. Unless a bird is so marked as to 
stand out as prominently as the mountains on the 
plain, the chances are he will be confounded with his 
fellows. The red-eye is a bird of our towns, pro- 
vided there be shade-trees ; and though the pavements 
