72 THE RETURN OF THE NATIVES. 



che — very rapidly, as if he were hurling into the 

 air a throatful of vibrating hair-springs. A mo- 

 ment after this performance I catch for an instant 

 a dark speck flitting to another tree and clinging 

 like a true creeper on its trunk and hopping around 

 the whorl of limbs, showing the yellow-and-white 

 under parts and the dark-green head and back. 



The black-throated green warWer is here, too; 

 his song is spun out from his larynx exceedingly 

 fine, but sharp and piercing withal, indicating the 

 excellent lung-capacity of the performer. It begins 

 with the syllables ta-te-te-te, uttered rapidly, and 

 ending with sweet-tu, long drawn out and sound- 

 ing not unlike a boy's round tin whistle. Among 

 these tall evergreens he loves to feed. Here and 

 there through them the sprays tremble as he pecks 

 at the tender tips and devours the insects which 

 have flown or crawled so high to extract the early 

 sweets. Occasionally he visits the open hard-wood 

 growths, as if he wished to spice his usual diet 

 with the peculiar viands that these trees afford. 

 Standing in a favorable light, I notice that the 

 yellow feathers on the head are liberally mixed 

 with verdigris, the wing-coverts and tail almost 

 olive-brown, and the throat and chin covered with 

 a triangular black patch, clearly defined, as if a 



