the inner top branches of a tall tree, for hours at a time, and even during the hottest part of the day ; again, you may count each note that it utters, the little vocalist resting as it were to enjoy the sounds of its own music ; next moment all seems hurry and bustle ; — it raises its voice, and chants on with great volubility, so loudly that one might think the little
creature intent on drowning all other sounds. The darker the woods, the more cloudy the day, the more unremitting are its exertions. It is one of the earliest singers in spring, and among the latest in autumn. In the south-eastern parts of East Florida, where many spend the winter, I have heard its notes and those of the White-eyed Vireo, even at that sea-
son. In South Carolina, in the neighbourhood of Charleston, I have
heard and seen it early in the month of February, when scarce a leaf was
yet expanded. It is not seen in Louisiana until the beginning of March,
and I am inclined to think that perhaps an equal number of these birds
come to us from the West India Islands or from Mexico.
Few birds seem to enjoy life more than this Vireo, for at almost every short cessation of its song, it is seen making a movement or two up or along a branch, searching with extreme diligence for food, peeping cau- tiously under the leaves, and examining each bud or blossom with a care peculiarly its own. It may be seen flying from one tree to another with indefatigable industry, and this not only from morning to night, but during the whole time of its stay with us.
So abundant is this bird, and so prodigal of its song, that any one paying the least attention is sure to hear it either froin the trees which embellish the streets of the villages and cities, or the gardens and woods. The principal notes resemble the syllables pewee, pea, sho-re, sheire, chew-ree, piwit. They are, as I have said, clear, loud, and melodious.
The flight of this bird is altogether performed in a gliding manner, and when it is engaged in pursuit of a rival or an enemy, it passes through the woods with remarkable swiftness. It is an affectionate parent, generally leading about its young, particularly its second brood ; for it often breeds twice in the year, even in the State of Massachusetts, pr far up on the Mississippi. On such occasions, the parents proceed through the woods with more care, and on the least appearance of danger utter a querulous note, the meaning of which is so well understood by the little family, that they seldom fail to hide or become mute in an instant. The young are fed for several weeks after they leave the nest, and, I believe, migrate with the old ones, for I have frequently seen them on the move
