Vol. XIV1 
1897 J 
Dwight, The Philadelphia Vireo. 
265 
season he keeps altogether in the bushes, warbling now and then, 
as if under his breath, in soft and disjointed measures. Some- 
times a pair is to be seen rambling together through the low 
bushes, uttering peculiar soft little clicks and squeaks the while, 
but I must confess I find them at all times adepts in the art of 
concealment, although they are never really timid. 
There was one bird that I used to watch by the hour. He was 
usually to be found singing on a particular twig near the top of a 
tall poplar, one of a small group that he claimed as his exclusive 
domain. When I first saw him, flakes of poplar-down were filling 
the air and lay drifted like banks of snow in every nook and 
corner, for it was then the middle of June and early summer was 
in full swing. The daily round of life of my little friend 
philadelphicus seemed to closely correspond with that of others that 
could not be so regularly studied, and his traits differed in small 
degree from those of his brethren. He would sing the whole of 
the morning, scarcely skipping a note for upwards of half an hour 
at a time. During the song he contrived to keep his body in con- 
tinual, restless motion as if on the point of taking flight, but in 
reality he did not even shift his hold on the bough. After a time, 
impelled no doubt by hunger, he would roam about in the adjacent 
trees, hopping with deliberation from limb to limb and turning his 
head from side to side in search of food. Occasionally grasping 
the very end of a branch he would sway upside down while inves- 
tigating its insect possibilities, or swiftly pursue and catch in the 
air some heedless fly. His now interrupted snatches of song 
were infrequent and his scolding, mewing notes would be heard 
from time to time. At length descending to the adjacent bushes, 
he would be joined by his mate, doubtless from her nest, and with 
soft lisping murmurs they would soon be lost in the tangle. Later 
on, I would hear him again from the old stand, or before return- 
ing thither his melody might be heard in some of the small trees 
that dotted the expanse of bushes. And so the days would slip 
uneventfully by with alternate periods of song and quiet. 
I feel confident the nests are not placed in the trees, for in the 
localities where I have found the Vireos an examination of their 
very tops is accomplished without much difficulty. Besides, the 
only nest ever taken, that found by Mr. Thompson, was suspended 
