The Western Wood Pewee 
dominant, and all Nature yields drowsy allegi¬ 
ance to his sway. All but Pewee. He avoids 
the sun, indeed, but from a sheltered perch 
he lifts a voice of protest, “Dear Me!” 
It seems uncalled-for. The bird 
does not appear to be unhappy. 
Flv-catching is good, and the Pewee 
cocks his head quite cheerfully 
Taken at 
Big Bear 
Lake 
Photo by 
Pierce 
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN WOOD 
PEWEE 
as he returns to his perch after a 
successful foray. But, true to some 
hidden impulse, as you gaze upon 
him, he swells with approaching ef¬ 
fort, his mandibles part, and he 
utters that doleful, appointed sound, 
dear me. His utterance has all the 
precision and finality of an assigned 
part in an orchestra. It is as if we 
were watching a single player in a 
symphony of Nature whose other 
strains were too subtle for our ears. 
The player seems inattentive to the 
music, he eyes the ceiling languidly, 
WESTERN WOOD PEWEE 
907 
