The Muscicapa Bonapartii was met with in Louisiana, where, during a residence of many years, I never saw the present species. Nay, the Canada Flycatcher, although a migratory, may be said to be truly a northern bird, never having been observed south of Pennsylvania, east of the range of the Alleghany mountains, or below Pittsburg, on their broad western slope.
I first became acquainted with the habits of the Canada Flycatcher in the Great Pine Forest, while in company with that excellent woodsman Jediah Irish, of whom I have previously spoken; and I have since ascertained that it gives a decided preference to mountainous places, thickly covered with almost impenetrable undergrowths of tangled shrubbery. I found it breeding in the Pine Forest, and have followed it through Maine, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, and the country of Labrador, in every portion of which, suited to its retired habits, it brings forth its broods in peaceful security.
It no doubt comes from the southern parts of America, or from the West Indies, but the mode of its migration is still unknown to me. In Pennsylvania, about the middle of May, a few are seen in the maritime districts, where they seem merely to be resting after the fatigues of a long and tedious journey, before they retreat to their favourite haunts in the mountainous tracts. There they are heard while concealed among the opening blossoms, giving vent to their mirth in song, perhaps thanking the Author of their being for their safe return to their cherished abode. Their notes are not unmusical, although simple and not attractive. Wherever a streamlet of rushing water, deeply shaded by the great mountain laurel (Rhododendron maximum) was met with, there was the Canada Flycatcher to be found. You might see it skipping among the branches, peeping beneath each leaf, examining every chink of the bark, moving along with rapidity and elegance, singing, making love to its mate, and caressing her with all the fervour of a true sylvan lover.
The nest of this bird which I found, was filled to the brim with four young ones ready to take wing; and as it was on the 11th of August, I concluded that the parents had reared another brood that season. When I put my hand on them, they all left the nest and scrambled off, emitting a plaintive tsche, which immediately brought the old ones. Notwithstanding all the anxious cares of the latter in assisting them to hide, I procured all of them; but after examining each minutely I set them at liberty. They were of a dull greyish tint above, of a delicate citron colour beneath, and
