THE RED-EYED VIREO

(THE TALKER)

“This bird is the most popular member of his family—­and he has twenty brothers, all living in North America.”

“Isn’t he a Warbler?” asked Rap.  “I always thought he was one, for he fusses round the trees the same as they do, though of course he has much more of a song.”

“He belongs to a family of his own, but yours was an easy mistake to make, for the difference is not readily seen except in the beak, and you have to look at that very closely to see it.  The Warblers mostly have smooth slender beaks, but the Vireos have stouter ones, with a little hooked point that enables them to pick out and secure a great variety of insects.  The Chat is our only Warbler with a very stout beak, even stouter than a Vireo’s, but it has no hook at the end.  The Redstart’s has a hooked point, but the rest of the beak is very broad and flat, with a row of stiff bristles at each corner of the mouth, to keep insects from kicking free when they are caught.”

[Illustration:  Red-Eyed Vireo.]

“You say his eyes are red.  But why is his name ’Vireo’—­does that mean anything?”

“‘Vireo’ comes from the Latin word meaning ‘green,’ and because all of this family have greenish backs one of their common names is ‘Greenlet.’  Besides being very pretty to look at, this little red-eyed bird is a great worker and does whatever he undertakes in a most complete manner.  When he starts his tree trapping in the morning he does not flit carelessly from one tree to another, but after selecting his feeding ground, goes all over one branch, never leaving it for another until he has searched every crack and leaf.

“Meanwhile he carries on a rapid sing-song conversation, sometimes for his own benefit and sometimes to cheer his mate on the nest, for this Vireo is one of the few birds who talk too freely about their homes.  These homes of theirs are another proof of industry; they are beautifully woven of a dozen kinds of stuff—­grass, bark-strips, seed-vessels, fine shavings, and sometimes bits of colored paper and worsted, and half hang from the crotch of a small branch with a nice little umbrella of leaves to cover Madam’s head.  There she sits peeping out, not a bit shy if she feels that your intentions toward her are kindly.  I have often found these nests in the orchard, on branches only a few feet from the ground, and I have also found them high up in the maples by the attic window.

“The Vireo does not stop work at noon when the field hands lie under the apple trees, with their dinner pails beside them.  No, he only works and talks faster, keeping one eye on the home branch, and this is what he says, stopping between every sentence:  ’I know it—­I made it—­Would you think it?—­Mustn’t touch it—­Shouldn’t like it—­If you do it—­I’ll know it—­You’ll rue it!’”

“He was talking exactly like that this morning,” said Dodo.  “Will the nests last after they are empty, Uncle Roy, so we can find some?”