brook down there," I said hastily; "we can't cross it."

Could we not? But we did, at the expense of a little further rending,
and the addition of wet feet to our other discomforts. But at last! at
last! we came in sight of our bird, a mere black speck against the sky.

"It's a flycatcher!" exclaimed my companion eagerly. "See his attitude!
I must get around the other side!" and on we went again. A fence loomed
before us, a fence of brush, impossible to get through, and almost as
impossible to get over. But what were any of man's devices to an eager
bird-hunter! Over that fence she went--like a bird, I was going to say,
but like a boy would perhaps be better. More leisurely and with
difficulty I followed, for once on the other side I should be content. I
knew the road could not be far off, and through the tangled way we had
come I was resolved I would not pass again.

[Sidenote: _UPON THE TREE-TOP._]

Well, we ran him down. He was obliging enough to stay in one spot,
indifferent to our noisy presence on the earth below, while we studied
him on all sides, and decided him to be the olive-sided flycatcher
(_Contopus borealis_). We entered his name and his manners in our
notebooks, and we were happy, or at least relieved.

The habit of this bird, as I learned by observation of him afterward,
was to sit on the highest twig of a tree dead at the top, where he could
command a view of the whole neighborhood, and sing or call by the hour,
in a loud, drawling, and rather plaintive tone, somewhat resembling the
wood pewee's, though more animated in delivery. I found that the two
notes which syllabled themselves to my ear as "see-e he-e-re!" were
prefaced by a low, staccato utterance like "quick!" and all were on the
same note of the musical scale. Occasionally, but not often, he made a
dash into the air, flycatcher fashion, and once I saw him attempt to
drive away a golden-winged woodpecker who took the liberty of alighting
on a neighboring dead tree-trunk. Down upon him like a small tornado
came the flycatcher instantly, expecting, apparently, to annihilate him.
But the big, clumsy woodpecker merely slid one side a little, to avoid
the onslaught, and calmly went on dressing his feathers as if no small
flycatcher existed. This indifference did not please the olive-sided,
but he alighted on a branch below and bided his time; it came soon, when
the goldenwing took flight, and he came down upon him like a kingbird on
a crow. I h