The White-eyed Vireo 
73 
the white-eyed vireo is the most common bird 
to be seen. His sweet, vigorous, irregular 
interrogation may be heard all day. But there 
he is known by quite a different name — “ Chick 
of the Village. ’ ’ It was a pleasant shock to hear, 
“ Now, who are you, eh?” piquantly sung out at 
me, a stranger in the islands, by this old ac- 
quaintance in a hibiscus bush within a few steps 
of the pier where the steamer landed. 
In the United States where he nests, his 
manners are less sociable; in fact they are 
rather pert, even churlish at times, and never 
very friendly. Here he loves to hide in such 
low, briery, bushy tangles as the chat and 
catbird choose. By no stretch of the imagin- 
ation would his chic Bermuda name fit him 
here, for he has little to do with villages and he 
resents your advances toward more intimate 
acquaintance with harsh, cackling scoldings, 
half to himself, half to you, until you, in turn, 
resent his impertinence and leave him alone — 
just what the independent little fellow wanted. 
He has a strong, decided character, you perceive. 
His precious nest, so jealously guarded, is 
a deeper cup than that of his cousin with the 
red eye, deeper than that of any of the other 
vireos, and it usually contains three favourite 
materials in addition to those generally chosen 
by them: they are bits of wood usually stolen 
from some woodpecker’s hole, shreds of paper. 
