_Red-eyed Flycatcher._ +Wils.+—_Whip-Tom-Kelly._ +Sloane.+
_Vireosylva olivacea._
_Muscicapa olivacea_, +Linn.+—Aud. pl. 150.
_Vireosylva olivacea_, +Bonap.+
[55] Length 6¹⁄₄ inches, expanse 10, flexure 3¹⁄₄, tail 2³⁄₁₀,
rictus ¹⁷⁄₂₀, tarsus ⁸⁄₁₀, middle toe ⁵⁄₁₀. Intestine 7¹⁄₂ inches;
two minute cæca, merely rudimentary.
Much oftener heard than seen, though not unfamiliar to either sense,
this sober-coloured bird is one of those whose notes have such a
similarity to articulations as to procure them a common appellation.
The Flycatchers, in general, are not very vociferous, but this is
pertinacious in its tri-tonous call, repeating it with energy every
two or three seconds. It does not ordinarily sit on a prominent twig,
or dart out after insects, though I have seen one in eager, but
unsuccessful pursuit of a butterfly (_Terias_), but it seems to love
the centre of thick trees, where it sits announcing its presence, or
flits from bough to bough as you approach; so that it is not easy to
get a sight of it.
This bird does not winter with us, but leaves with the Grey
Petchary, at the beginning of October. It returns early, and
like the bird just named, evidently makes an eastward progress,
arriving at the south-west end of the island first. On the
26th of March, on my return to Bluefields, after a visit to
Spanish town, I heard its well-known voice, but my lad had
noticed it a week before. From this time, every grove, I might
almost say every tree, had its bird, uttering with incessant
iteration and untiring energy, from its umbrageous concealment,
_Sweet-John!—John-to-whit!—sweet-John-to-whit!—John-t’whit!—
sweet-John-to—whit!_—I can scarcely understand how the call can
be written “_Whip-Tom-Kelly_” as the accent, if I may so say, is
most energetically on the last syllable. Nor have I ever heard
this appellation given to it in Jamaica. After July we rarely hear
_John-to-whit_,—but, _to-whit—to-whoo_; and sometimes a soft simple
chirp, or _sip, sip_, whispered so gently as scarcely to be audible.
This, however, I have reason to believe, is the note of the young, for
I have heard young ones repeatedly utter it, when sitting on a twig,
receiving from time to time, with gaping beak, and quivering wing, the
food contributed by the dam.
The food of the John-to-whit is both animal and vegetable. In March I
have found in its stomach the seeds of the Tropic Birch, and in April
the berries of Sweet-wood, in an unripe state. In the same month, I
observed one hunting insects by the borders of Bluefields rivulet in
which I was bathing; and so intent was it upon its occupation, that it
allowed me to approach within a foot of it before it flew. It sought
insects successfully among the grass and low herbage, perching on
the stalks of the weeds, and jumping out after stationary, as well
as vagrant, prey. I observed it eat two spiders’ nests, which it
masticated, as if peculiarly savoury. As it sat, it vomited a little
white body, which I found to be the globose seed of the misseltoe berry.
Incubation takes place in June and July. The nest is rather a neat
structure, though made of coarse materials. It is a deep cup, about
as large as an ordinary tea-cup, narrowed at the mouth; composed of
dried grass, intermixed with silk-cotton, and sparingly with lichen and
spiders’ nests, and lined with thatch-threads. It is usually suspended
between two twigs, or in the fork of one, the margin being over-woven,
so as to embrace the twigs. This is very neatly performed. Specimens
vary much in beauty: one before me is particularly neat and compact,
being almost globular in form, except that about one-fourth of the
globe is wanting, as it is a cup. Though the walls are not thick,
they are very firm and close, the materials being well woven. These
are fibres of grass-like plants, moss, a few dry leaves, flat papery
spiders’ nests, with a little cotton or down for the over-binding
of the edges. It is lined smoothly with fibres, I know not of what
plant, as slender as human hair. Another nest, similarly formed, has
the cavity almost filled with a mass of white cotton, which looks as
if thrust in by man, but that those filaments of the mass that are in
contact with the sides, are interwoven with the other materials. As
it is picked cotton, it must be a bit stolen from some house or yard,
not plucked by the bird from the capsule. The eggs, commonly three in
number, are delicately white, with a few small red-brown spots, thinly
scattered over the surface, sometimes very minute and few. Their form
is a somewhat pointed oval, measuring ⁹⁄₁₀ inch, by rather less than
¹³⁄₂₀.
+Fam.+—AMPELIDÆ. (_The Chatterers._)