-e!
phe-be-e! phe-e-e-bie!" Their voices are stronger and more mellifluent
than the eastern phoebe's, but the manner of delivery is not so
sprightly and gladsome. Indeed, if I mistake not, there is a pensive
strain in the lay of the western bird.

A few cowbirds, red-winged blackbirds, and spotted sandpipers were seen
in the park, but they are too familiar to merit more than casual
mention. However, let us return to Brewer's blackbirds. Closely as they
resemble the bronzed grackles of the East, there are some marked
differences between the eastern and western birds; the westerners are
not so large, and their manners and nesting habits are more like those
of the red-wings than the grackles. Brewer's blackbirds hover overhead
as you come into the neighborhood of their nests or young, and the males
utter their caveats in short squeals or screeches and the females in
harsh "chacks."

[Illustration: _Magpie and Western Robins_

"_They were hot on his trail_"]

The nests are set in low bushes and even on the ground, while those of
the grackles are built in trees and sometimes in cavities. To be exact
and scientific, Brewer's blackbirds belong to the genus _Icolecophagus_,
and the grackles to the genus _Quiscalus_. In the breeding season the
western birds remain in the park. That critical period over, in August
and September large flocks of them, including young and old, ascend to
favorite feeding haunts far above the timber-line, ranging over the
slopes of the snowy mountains engirdling their summer home. Then they
are in the heyday of blackbird life. Silverspot himself, made famous by
Ernest Thompson Seton, did not lead a more romantic and adventurous
life, and I hope some day Brewer's blackbird will be honored by a no
less effective biography.

What a to-do they make when you approach their outdoor hatchery! Yet
they are sly and diplomatic. One day I tried my best to find a nest with
eggs or bantlings in it, but failed, although, as a slight compensation,
I succeeded in discovering three nests from which the young had flown.
The old birds of both sexes circled overhead, called and pleaded and
scolded, and sometimes swooped down quite close to my scalp, always
veering off in time to avoid actual collision. A pair of them held
choice morsels--choice for Brewer's blackbirds--in their bills, and I
sat down on a tuft of sod and watched them for a couple of hours, hoping
they would feed their young in plain sight and divulg