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      Apollo showered of old,

      Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,

      And knead its meal of gold.

      THE OLIVE-SIDED FLYCATCHER

      (Contopus borealis.)

      The Olive-sided Flycatcher is a North American bird breeding in the coniferous forests of our Northern States, northward into Canada and in mountainous regions. It winters in Central and South America.

      Like all Flycatchers, their food consists almost exclusively of winged insects, such as beetles, butterflies, moths and the numerous gadflies which abound in the places frequented by these birds. A dead limb or the decayed top of some tall tree giving a good outlook close to the nesting site, is usually selected for a perch, from which excursions are made in different directions after passing insects, which are often chased for quite a distance. This Flycatcher usually arrives on its breeding grounds about the middle of May, and its far-reaching call notes can then be heard almost constantly in the early morning hours and again in the Four Birds & Nature Tues – Hammond evening. Unless close to the bird, this note sounds much like that of the wood pewee, which utters a note of only two syllables, like “pee-wee,” while that of the Olive-sided Flycatcher really consists of three, like “hip-pin-whee.” The first part is uttered short and quick, while the latter two are so accented and drawn out, that at a distance the call sounds as if likewise composed of only two notes, but this is not the case. Their alarm note sounds like “puip-puip-puip,” several times repeated, or “puill-puill-puill;” this is usually given only when the nest is approached, and occasionally a purring sound is also uttered.

      Tall evergreen trees, such as pines, hemlocks, spruces, firs and cedars, situated near the edge of an opening or clearing in the forest, not too far from water and commanding a good outlook, or on a bluff along a stream, a hillside, the shore of a lake or pond, are usually selected as nesting sites by this species, and the nest is generally saddled well out on one of the limbs, where it is difficult to see and still more difficult to get at. Only on rare occasions will this species nest in a deciduous tree.

      While it appears tolerant enough toward other species, it will not allow any of its own kind to nest in close proximity to its chosen home, to which it returns from year to year. Each pair seems to claim a certain range, which is rarely less than half a mile in extent, and is usually located along some stream, near the shore of a lake, or by some little pond; generally coniferous forests are preferred, but mixed ones answer their purpose almost equally well as long as they border on a body of water or a beaver meadow and have a few clumps of hemlock or spruce trees scattered through them which will furnish suitable nesting sites and lookout perches.

      While on a collecting trip a nest of this species was observed in a spruce tree and about forty-five feet from the ground. The birds betrayed the location of the nest by their excited actions and incessant scolding. They were very bold, flying close around the climber’s head, snapping their bills at him, and uttering angry notes of defiance rather than of distress, something like “puy-pip-pip.” They could not possibly have been more pugnacious.

      The nest was a well-built structure. It was outwardly composed of fine, wiry roots and small twigs, mixed with green moss and lined with fine roots and moss. It was securely fixed among a mass of fine twigs growing out at that point of the limb.

      As a rule the nests are placed at a considerable height from the ground, usually from forty to sixty feet, though occasionally one is found that is not more than twenty feet.

      In spite of their pugnacious and quarrelsome habits these birds are so attached to the localities they have selected for their homes that they will usually lay a second set of eggs in the same nest from which their first set has been taken – Adapted from Charles Bendire’s Life Histories of North American Birds.

      THE COMING OF MISS OCTOBER MONTH

      Over in Farmer Goodman’s timber there was a great stir. Everybody was busy. All summer the trees had been planning a picnic reception to be given to the Month brothers and sisters when the hot weather had passed.

      When it became noised around the whole neighborhood was delighted with the thought. Everyone wanted to do what little he could to help things along. Several dignified old owls, who had holes in the trees, promptly offered to chaperone the party. The cat-tails along the brook just at the edge of the timber promised to wear their prettiest head-dresses if they would be allowed to wait on the door. The golden rod, purple asters and other flowers along the road and the ferns, wahoo, sumac and their companions agreed to outdo themselves in the effort to furnish beautiful, tasty decorations.

      The refreshments would cost nothing. The spring at the foot of the hill offered to supply clear cool drinks for all, free of charge. They had an abundance of wild grapes, wild cherries, pawpaws, red haws, hazel, hickory and other nuts.

      Prof. Wind was engaged to have his band there to furnish music for the dancing.

      As it was hoped to make this a long-to-be-remembered event, all summer was spent in planning and preparation. Many were the happy hours passed by the trees in discussing the styles and colors in which they were to be decked. Whenever the band was practicing its new pieces for the occasion the little leaves would dance and skip for joy.

      The names of Mr. January Month and all his brothers and sisters, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December were written on a sheet of paper. The list was handed to a gay little squirrel, with a handsome tail and pretty stripes down his back. He was then given instructions and sent to do the inviting. A funny little hop-toad wished to go along. The squirrel said that he would be pleased to have company, but he scampered around from place to place as though he were going for a doctor for a dying child. As the little hop-toad could not keep up, he came home crying.

      Fancy the disappointment when the squirrel brought back word that pretty Miss October Month was the only one who had accepted the kind invitation. All said that they would be delighted to be there, that they knew that it would be a very happy, jolly affair; but each month claimed that having his own work to do without help he is kept so busy that he has no time for roving and sport. After the trees and their friends had so kindly made such great arrangements for their entertainment and honor, the narrow-minded months were not grateful nor polite enough to even try to manage their work so that they could get off for a day. Perhaps they had forgotten that there is such a thing as fun and rest. Poor Months! No wonder they die so early!

      Every plan for a brilliant event had been made. Bright, amiable October came. The day was sunny and warm, but not hot. Everyone did his part according to agreement. The common yellow butterflies, some caterpillars and other insects who had been in no hurry to disappear, were there. Although many of the birds had left for their southern trip, there were a number of catbirds, hermit thrushes, brown thrushes, phoebes, song sparrows

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