itary vireo,--the red-eyed and warbling being most
abundant, and the white-eyed being the most lively and animated
songster. I meet the latter bird only in the thick, bush growths of
low, swampy localities, where, eluding the observer, it pours forth
its song with a sharpness and a rapidity of articulation that are
truly astonishing. This strain is very marked, and, though inlaid with
the notes of several other birds, is entirely unique. The iris of this
bird is white, as that of the red-eyed is red, though in neither case
can this mark be distinguished at more than two or three yards. In
most cases the iris of birds is a dark hazel, which passes for black.

The basket-like nest, pendent to the low branches in the woods, which
the falling leaves of autumn reveal to all passers, is, in most cases,
the nest of the red-eyed, though the solitary constructs a similar
tenement, but in much more remote and secluded localities.

Most birds exhibit great alarm and distress, usually with a strong
dash of anger, when you approach their nests; but the demeanor of the
red-eyed, on such an occasion, is an exception to this rule. The
parent birds move about softly amid the branches above, eying the
intruder with a curious, innocent look, uttering, now and then, a
subdued note or plaint, solicitous and watchful, but making no
demonstration of anger or distress.

The birds, no more than the animals, like to be caught napping; but I
remember, one autumn day, coming upon a red-eyed vireo that was
clearly oblivious to all that was passing around it. It was a young
bird, though full grown, and it was taking its siesta on a low branch
in a remote heathery field. Its head was snugly stowed away under its
wing, and it would have fallen easy prey to the first hawk that came
along. I approached noiselessly, and when within a few feet of it
paused to note its breathings, so much more rapid and full than our
own. A bird has greater lung capacity than any other living thing,
hence more animal heat, and life at a higher pressure. When I reached
out my hand and carefully closed it around the winged sleeper, its
sudden terror and consternation almost paralyzed it. Then it struggled
and cried piteously, and when released hastened and hid itself in some
near bushes. I never expected to surprise it thus a second time.

The flycatchers are a larger group than the vireos, with
stronger-marked characteristics. They are not properly songsters, but
are cl