The long winter of aught-aught-eight allowed me much time to speculate on a pair of Pacific-slope Flycatchers nesting at D & K's house last summer. Would the birds return, come springtime? Finally, May rolled around, I listened for the Pacific-slopes' whistled call, and had my answer. The Pacific-slope Flycatchers did return!

It is now mid-July, the Slopes, as I sometimes call them for short, are nesting and I want to find out where. I eliminated last year's nest in the eaves of the tree house, after watching the birds' activities for a few days. Unfortunately, last years nest was the only Pacific-slope nest I've ever found, so I am not sure where to look for this year's nest. Do they prefer ledges on man-made structures? Would they nest in a tree? I was determined to find out.

I would begin by listening to Pacific-slope calls for several days in order to discover where the Flycatchers were hanging out. So, if I am driven gently crazy over the course of the coming week, Pacific-slope Flycatchers are the reason.

I was immediately confused. The Pacific-slope's calls were easy enough to distinguish from other bird background noise. Yet the calls appeared equally strong next to the workshop, and a few hundred feet away to the north next to an old shack made of vertically standing logs. The loud "psweet" calls suggested two males competing for attention. Did females accompany the males or was it just two males trying to attract females? Spotting the Flycatchers and staring at them would do me no good because females and males look identical.

After 10 days of observation, I was getting nowhere. At this rate nesting would be over and done with before I found a nest. Then I caught a break.

One day, as I sat in the shade of the lumber storage area attached to the east side of the workshop, a skittish little bird flew down and landed on a pile of boards. It fluttered its wings nervously, entered the darkness of the lean-to, and then quickly flew back outside. It soon returned to sit on the same pile of boards, then once more flew into the darkest spot of the lean-to. At one point it held a clump of insects in its mouth, almost certain proof that it was feeding nestlings. Try as I might, I could not see where the bird went once it was inside the lean-to. I even stepped into the space and gave a quick look around but there was no nest in sight.

As afternoon shadows spilled across the driveway I took up lonely vigil such that I could look straight down the length of the lean-to with my binoculars. A Flycatcher entered the lean-to and sat for a moment. Then with dazzling speed it zipped up next to the ceiling and out of the lean-to. What had it done? Did it go to the top of the door that leads into the shop? I barely had time to formulate my question when the next Flycatcher arrived and executed the same maneuver. On the Flycatchers next visit, I figured out their maneuvers.

The Flycatchers nest was in the bow of an inverted canoe, which rested on supports inside the lean-to. The bow plate provided a flat spot for the nest and the canoe interior made a nice cavernous roof. With binoculars, I spotted a bit of hanging grass. I found my second Pacific-slope Flycatcher nest!

Later, I peered into the bow of the canoe and confirmed my findings. I clearly saw the nest and the heads of the nestlings. This time it looked as if the Flycatchers built the complete nest rather than retrofitting an old Robin's nest.

Now that I had located one pair of Pacific-slope Flycatchers, I focussed my attention on what sounded like another pair over by the vertical log cabin. A few minutes spent in that area quickly revealed a male Flycatcher singing "psweet" from the treetops with no female in sight. Then I saw a small bird hurry out from the other side of the cabin and quickly return. I went around the building and scanned the wall of the structure for a nest. Then I saw the eye of an incubating Pacific-slope Flycatcher sitting in a well-hidden nest on an old Robin platform. There were two pairs of Pacific-slope Flycatchers nesting within 100 feet of each other!

With this mystery solved, I'll now begin looking for some other source of aggravation.