<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>THE RED-EYED VIREO.</h2>
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<p>“A bird with red eyes! look, mamma,” said
Bobby. “How funny!”</p>
<p>“And how beautiful,” replied
his mamma. “Not plainly
dressed, like his cousin, the
Warbling Vireo, whose picture
you saw in the
October
number of <span class="smcap">Birds</span>.”</p>
<p>“The Yellow-Throated, in the June number,”
said Bobbie, who has a remarkable memory,
“was a lovely bird, too, mamma. Can Mr. Red-eye sing?”</p>
<p>“No, you can’t call his note a
song; it is more like a chatter,
which he keeps up from morning
till night.”</p>
<p>“Like some children,” said
Bobbie, with a sage nod of the
head, “who talk all day long.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” smiled his mamma,
“without saying very much,
either. But this little bird
works while he chatters.”</p>
<p>“I reckon he stops at noon
time,” said Bobbie, “as other birds do.”</p>
<p>“No, even then the silence of
the woods is broken by the Red-eyed
Vireo’s voice. He is such
a busy little fellow, he can’t find
time for a nap.”</p>
<p>“Hm!” remarked Bobbie; “the
other birds must find him a
tiresome fellow, I think.</p>
<p>“Has he any other names, mamma?”</p>
<p>“Yes, he is called the Red-eyed
Greenlet or Red-eyed
Fly-catcher. One gentleman
calls him ‘The Preacher.’ To
him the bird seems to say,
‘<em>You see it; you know it; do you hear me?
do you believe it?</em>’”</p>
<p>“I’m going to look out for that
red-eyed preacher next summer,”
said Bobby, with a laugh.</p>
<p>“One lady who makes a study
of birds thinks he says, ‘<em>I know
it! would you think it? musn’t touch
it; you’ll rue it!</em>’ He makes a
pause, as you see, after each
sentence.”</p>
<p>“Tell me something about
their nests?” said Bobbie,
deeply interested.</p>
<p>“They are made of bark
fibers, cobwebs, bits of paper,
and scraps of hornets’ nests, in
the form of a little pocket. This
is suspended from the fork of
two or more twigs high up in
the tree, making a sort of cradle
for the little ones.”</p>
<p style="margin-left: 5em;">
<span style="margin-left: -.3em;">“Rock-a-by, baby, on the tree top,</span><br/>
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.”</p>
<p>hummed Bobby. “How jolly!”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said mamma; “and they
take care that it is under some
green leaves, which act as an
umbrella to keep the sun out of
the mother’s eyes while she sits
on the four pretty white eggs.”</p>
<p>“And out of the little ones’
red eyes, too,” laughed Bobbie.
“How cute!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</SPAN></span></p>
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<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i_013.jpg" width-obs="449" height-obs="600" alt="image" title="" /> <span class="caption">red-eyed vireo.</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: -2em;" class="sml"><strong>From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.</strong></span> <span style="margin-left: 11em;" class="sml"><strong>Copyrighted by<br/></strong></span>
<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;" class="sml"><strong>Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.</strong></span></div>
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