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"'Tisn't slimy," he said, as I looked on with disgust at him poking the long-shaped creamy creature with one finger, as it lay in the palm of his left hand. "You feel it. Quite cool and dry." "I'm not going to touch the nasty thing," I cried. "And what do you mean by a worm-eater?" "Mean he's one. See how long and thin he is.
The red-eye is classed among the flycatchers by some writers, but is much more of a worm-eater, and has few of the traits or habits of the Muscicapa or the true Sylvia. He resembles somewhat the warbling vireo, and the two birds are often confounded by careless observers. Both warble in the same cheerful strain, but the latter more continuously and rapidly.
The red-eye is classed among the flycatchers by some writers, but is much more of a worm-eater, and has few of the traits or habits of the Muscicapa or the true Sylvia. He resembles somewhat the warbling vireo, and the two birds are often confounded by careless observers. Both warble in the same cheerful strain, but the latter more continuously and rapidly.
I haven't found one of those for ever so long." He climbed over the gate, and picked up something cream-coloured from the hollow between two furrows. "What is it?" I said, as he came back. "Worm-eater," and he opened his hand. "Why, it's a slug," I said. "Throw the nasty slimy thing away."
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