hing his youngsters how to fly.

"Like other insect-eaters, he leaves the northerly States before cold
weather and journeys beyond the United States for the winter. We always
miss him when he has swooped along the fence rail for the last time and
joined his brethren in the tree-tops, where the flocks form for their
long flight."

The Kingbird

Length eight inches--about the size of a Wood Thrush.

Upper parts slate-colored, with black head, wings, and tail; a white
band at the end of the tail, and a flaming orange spot on the crown.

Under parts pure white, a little grayish on the breast.

A Summer Citizen of the United States and Canada, travelling to Central
and South America for the winter.

One of the best neighbors, and a brave soldier. An officer of the guild
of Sky Sweepers, also a Ground Gleaner and Tree Trapper, killing
robber-flies, ants, beetles, and rose-bugs. A good friend to horses and
cattle, because he kills the terrible gadflies. Eats a little fruit, but
chiefly wild varieties, and only now and then a bee.

THE PHOEBE

(THE WATER PEWEE)

"Smaller, but not a whit less active than the Kingbird is the Phoebe or
Water Pewee--the small Flycatcher who is almost as familiar about the
farm and roadside as the Robin himself. Look about the woodshed or
cow-shed. Is there a beam or little nook of any sort that will hold a
nest? If so, in early May you will see a pair of nervous brown birds,
heaping up a mound of moss and mud. When they have made it large enough
to suit them, they line it with soft grass and horsehairs; the nest is
then ready for the white eggs, which once in a while are varied with a
few brown spots.

[Illustration: Phoebe.]

"Sometimes Phoebes build under a bridge, or in a rocky pocket above a
stream; for they love water and are great bathers. Then they make the
outside of the nest to match the rock by covering it with lichens.

"The Phoebe, like all other Flycatchers, sits motionless upon a dead
twig, fence rail, or often the clothesline, waiting for insects to come
by. Then he darts out, seizes one, and returns to the same perch,
flipping the tail, raising the little crest, and calling
'Phoebe--p-h-o-e-b-e,' in a very anxious voice.

"Phoebe is a hardy Flycatcher, who journeys north in March to tell us
spring is coming, and it takes a hard frost to send him away again.
Even then he does not hurry off toward the tropics like the ardent
Kingbird, but lingers all winter in th