224 THE PEWEE FLYCATCHER. 



beauties to the sun, or observing the watchful King-fisher perched on some 

 projecting stone over the clear water of the stream. Nay, now and then, the 

 Fish Hawk itself, followed by a White-headed Eagle, would make his ap- 

 pearance, and by his graceful aerial motions, raise my thoughts far above 

 them into the heavens, silently leading me to the admiration of the sublime 

 Creator of all. These impressive, and always delightful, reveries often ac- 

 companied my steps to the entrance of a small cave scooped out of the solid 

 rock by the hand of nature. It was, I then thought, quite large enough for 

 my study. My paper and pencils, with now and then a volume of Edge- 

 worth's natural and fascinating Tales or Lafontaine's Fables, afforded me 

 ample pleasures. It was in that place, kind reader, that I first saw with ad- 

 vantage the force of parental affection in birds. There it was that I studied 

 the habits of the Pewee; and there I was taught most forcibly, that to destroy 

 the nest of a bird, or to deprive it of its eggs or young, is an act of great 

 cruelty. 



I had observed the nest of this plain-coloured Flycatcher fastened, as it 

 were, to the rock immediately over the arched entrance of this calm retreat. 

 I had peeped into it: although empty, it was yet clean, as if the absent owner 

 intended to revisit it with the return of spring. The buds were already 

 much swelled, and some of the trees were ornamented with blossoms, yet the 

 ground was still partially covered with snow, and the air retained the pierc- 

 ing chill of winter. I chanced one morning early to go to my retreat. The 

 sun's glowing rays gave a rich colouring to every object around. As I en- 

 tered the cave, a rustling sound over my head attracted my attention, and, 

 on turning, I saw two birds fly off, and alight on a tree close by:-#the Pe- 

 wees had arrived! I felt delighted, and fearing that my sudden appearance 

 might disturb the gentle pair, I walked off; not, however, without frequently 

 looking at them. I concluded that they must have just come, for they seem- 

 ed fatigued: — their plaintive note was not heard, their crests were not erect- 

 ed, and the vibration of the tail, so very conspicuous in this species, appeared 

 to be wanting in power. Insects were yet few, and the return of the birds 

 looked to me as prompted more by their affection to the place, than by any 

 other motive. No sooner had I gone a few steps than the Pewees, with one 

 accord, glided down from their perches and entered the cave. I did not re- 

 turn to it any more that day, and as I saw none about it, or in the neighbour- 

 hood, I supposed that they must have spent the day within it. I concluded 

 also that these birds must have reached this haven, either during the night, 

 or at the very dawn of that morn. Hundreds of observations have since 

 proved to me that this species always migrates by night. 



I went early next morning to the cave, yet not early enough to surprise 

 them in it. Long before I reached the spot, my ears were agreeably saluted 



