The Hutton Vireo 
bird returned and settled with an air of quiet determination to her eggs. 
William put his finger up to her bill, and she pecked at it with a few dainty 
dabs. I put first my nose and then my lips to her beak, but she did not 
show any further spite. Finally, I photographed her in various positions, 
and Howell lifted her gently and without constraint, from her eggs, while 
I photographed the group. Soon after the final release, the male bird 
approached the scene, and visited the nest. The female quitted it for a 
few moments while he inspected its contents critically,—and to his evi¬ 
dent satisfaction, for she immediately returned and resumed her duties. 
This species being at the time unrepresented in Ootheca Dawsoniana, 
we cherished feelings of conscious virtue over our forbearance; but our 
hopes of better luck next time were dashed when Mr. J. H. Bowles, then 
resident at Santa Barbara, said that of the four nests he had taken he 
had been obliged, in each instance, to lift the bird from the nest. In one 
case he had been obliged to cut away a large willow branch, and the foliage 
was so heavy and so one-sided that the branch had turned over in his 
hands, insomuch that the Vireo’s nest, which hung near the tip, was 
nearly upset, lacking only an eighth turn, that is, a quarter of a half, of 
Taken in Santa Barbara Photo bv the Author 
VIREOS OFTEN SING UPON THE NEST 
