224 
THE PEWEE FLYCATCHER. 
its 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 made 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 
accompanied 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 
entered 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 
Pewees 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 seemed 
fatigued: — their plaintive note was not heard, their crests were not erected, 
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 
return to it any more that day, and as I saw none about it, or in the 
neighbourhood, 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 
