The Olive-sided Flycatcher 
decades. On a morning in early May, as surely as the season comes 
around, one hears a strong insistent voice shouting, “See here!" There 
is not much to see, save a dun-colored bird seated at an impossible 
height on the summit of a tall hr tree. Its posture is that easy half¬ 
slouch which, with the Flycatchers, betokens instant readiness for action. 
While we are ogling, the bird launches from his post, seizes an insect 
some thirty feet distant, and is back again before we have recovered 
from surprise. “See here!" the bird repeats, but its accent is unchanged 
and there is really nothing more to see. 
An intimate acquaintance with the Olive-sided Flycatcher is not 
easily attained; but its characteristic cry carries to a distance of half a 
mile or more, and is, fortunately, quite unforgetable. Both in accent 
and energy it seems to set the pace for several of the lesser Tyrants. 
Of course, like many another of the voices of Nature, its interpretation 
depends a good deal upon the mood of the listener. Heard on a dull 
day at sea-level it may sound dismal enough, but heard in the sharp air 
of the mountains it becomes an exultant note. At closest range one 
notices a premonitory note, a liquid quit, as is often the case with the 
strong-voiced species. Quit, we're here, the birds of the San Jacinto 
Taken in the San Jacinto Mis. 
Photo by the Author 
A ROMANTIC OUTLOOK 
THE X MARKS POSITION OF AN OCCUPIED NEST 
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