VOL. I.
Description of Species Nos. 1-181
_Corvidæ_—The Crows and Jays
No. 1.
NORTHERN RAVEN.
A.O.U. No. 486a. Corvus corax principalis Ridgw.
Synonym.—Formerly called the American Raven.
Description.—Color uniform lustrous black; plumage, especially on
breast, scapulars and back, showing steel-blue or purplish
iridescence; feathers of the throat long, narrow, pointed, light gray
basally; primaries whitening at base. Length two feet or over, female
a little smaller; wing 17.00-18.00 (438); tail 10.00 (247); bill 3.20
(76.5); depth of bill at nostril 1.00 (28.5); tarsus 2.68 (68).
Recognition Marks.—Large size,—about twice as big as a Crow; long
rounded tail; harsh croaking notes; uniform black coloration.
Indistinguishable afield from _sinuatus_.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a large but compact mass of sticks, lined with grass,
wool, cow-hair, etc., placed high in fir trees or upon inaccessible
cliffs. _Eggs_: 4-7 (8 of record), usually 5, pale bluish green or
olive, spotted, blotched, and dashed with greenish brown and obscure
lilac or purple. Av. size, 1.90 × 1.33 (48.26 × 33.78). _Season_:
April 15; one brood.
General Range.—“Arctic and Boreal Provinces of North America; south to
Eastern British Provinces, portions of New England, and Atlantic Coast
of United States, higher Alleghenies, region of the Great Lakes,
western and northern Washington, etc.” (Ridgway).
Range in Washington.—Found sparingly in the Cascade and Olympic
Mountains, more commonly along the Pacific Coast.
Migrations.—Resident but wide ranging.
Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814), Ed Biddle: Coues.
Vol. II. p. 185.] _Corvus carnivorus_ Bartram, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. IX. 1858, pp. 561, 562, 563. (T). C&S. L¹. D¹(?). B. E.
Specimens.—(U. of. W.) Prov. C.
Altho nowhere abundant, in the sense which obtains among smaller
species, nor as widely distributed as some, there is probably no other
bird which has attracted such universal attention, or has left so deep
an impress upon history and literature as the Raven. Primitive man has
always felt the spell of his sombre presence, and the Raven was as
deeply imbedded in the folklore of the maritime Grecian tribes as he is
today in that of the Makahs and Quillayutes upon our own coast. _Korax_,
the Greek called him, in imitation of his hoarse cry, _Kraack, kraack_;
while the Sanskrit name, _Karava_, reveals the ancient root from which
have sprung both _Crow_ and _Raven_.
Quick-sighted, cunning, and audacious, this bird of sinister aspect has
been invested by peoples of all ages with a mysterious and semi-sacred
character. His ominous croakings were thought to have prophetic import,
while his preternatural shrewdness has made him, with many, a symbol of
divine knowledge. We may not go such lengths, but we are justified in
placing this bird at the head of our list; and we must agree with
Professor Alfred Newton that the Raven is “the largest of the Birds of
the Order Passeres, and probably the most highly developed of all
Birds.”
The Raven is a bird of the wilderness; and, in spite of all his cunning,
he fares but ill in the presence of breech-loaders and iconoclasts.
While it has not been the object of any special persecution in
Washington, it seems to share the fate reserved for all who lift their
heads above the common level; and it is now nearly confined in its local
distribution to the Olympic peninsula; and is nowhere common, save in
the vicinity of the Indian villages which still cling to our western
shore.
In appearance the Raven presents many points of difference from the
Common Crow, especially when contrasted with the dwarf examples of the
northwestern race. It is not only larger, but its tail is relatively
much longer, and fully rounded. The head, too, is fuller, and the bill
proportionately stouter with more rounded culmen. The feathers of the
neck are loosely arranged, resulting in an impressive shagginess; and
there is a sort of uncouthness about these ancient birds, as compared
with the more dapper Crow.
Ravens are unscrupulous in diet, and therefrom has arisen much of the
dislike which has attached to them. They not only subsist upon insects,
worms, frogs, shellfish, and cast-up offal, but devour the eggs and
young of sea-birds; and, when pressed by hunger, do not scruple to
attack rabbits, young lambs, or seal pups. In fact, nothing fleshly and
edible comes amiss to them. In collecting along the sea-coast I once
lost some sandpipers,—which I had not had time to prepare the evening
before—because the dark watcher was “up first”. Like the Fish Crow, they
hang about the Indian villages to some extent, and dispute with the
ubiquitous Indian dog the chance at decayed fish and offal.
[Illustration: NORTHERN RAVEN.]
Altho by force of circumstances driven to accept shelter and nesting
sites in the dense forests of the western Olympic slope, the Raven is a
great lover of the sea-cliffs and of all wild scenery. Stormy days are
his especial delight and he soars about in the teeth of the gale,
exulting, like Lear, in the tumult: “Blow winds, and crack your cheeks!”
The sable bird is rather majestic on the wing, and he soars aloft at
times with something of the motion and dignity of the Eagle. But the
Corvine character is complex; and its gravest representatives do some
astonishingly boyish things. For instance, according to Nelson, they
will take sea-urchins high in air and drop them on the cliffs, for no
better reason, apparently, than to hear them smash. Or, again, they will
catch the luckless urchins in mid-air with all the delight of
school-boys at tom-ball.
Nests are to be found midway of sea-cliffs in studiously inaccessible
places, or else high in evergreen trees. Eggs, to the number of five or
six, are deposited in April; and the young are fed upon the choicest
which the (egg) market affords. We shall need to apologize occasionally
for the shortcomings of our favorites, and we confess at the outset to
shameless inconsistency; for even bird _villains_ are dear to us, if
they be not too bad, and especially if their badness be not directed
against us. Who would wish to see this bold, black brigand, savage,
cunning, and unscrupulous as he is, disappear entirely from our shores?
He is the deep shadow of the world’s chiaroscuro; and what were white,
pray, without black by which to measure it?
[Illustration: _Taken in Clallam County._ _Photo by the Author._
POINT-OF-THE-ARCHES GROUP, A CHARACTERISTIC HAUNT OF THE RAVEN.]
No. 2.
MEXICAN RAVEN.
A. O. U. No. 486. Corvus corax sinuatus (Wagler).
Synonyms.—American Raven. Southern Raven.
Description.—Like preceding but averaging smaller; bill relatively
smaller and narrower; tarsus not so stout. Length up to 26 inches, but
averaging less. Culmen 2.85 (72).
Recognition Marks.—As in preceding—distinguishable only by range.
Nesting.—_Nest_: placed on ledge or in crannies of basalt cliffs, more
rarely in pine trees.
General Range.—Western United States chiefly west of the Rocky
Mountains; in its northerly extension nearly coincident with the Upper
Sonoran life zone, south to Honduras.
Range in Washington.—May be arbitrarily defined as restricted to the
East-side, but common only on the treeless plains and in the Blue
Mountain region. Resident.
Authorities.—_Corvus carnivorus_ Bart., Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac.
R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II. 1860, p. 210. Bendire, Life Hist. N. A.
Birds, Vol. II. p. 396 f.
It is no mere association of ideas which has made the Raven the bird of
ill omen. Black is his wing, and black is his heart, as well. While it
may be allowed that he works no direct damage upon the human race, we
cannot but share in sympathy the burden of the bird-world which regards
him as the _bete noir_, diabolical in cunning, patient as fate, and
relentless in the hour of opportunity.
As I sit on an early May morning by the water’s edge on a lonely island
in the Columbia River, all nature seems harmonious and glad. The
Meadowlarks are pricking the atmosphere with goads of good cheer in the
sage behind; the Dove is pledging his heart’s affection in the
cottonwood hard by; the river is singing on the rapids; and my heart is
won to follow on that buoyant tide—when suddenly a mother Goose cries
out in terror and I leap to my feet to learn the cause. I have not long
to wait. Like a death knell comes the guttural croak of the Raven. He
has spied upon her, learned her secret, swept in when her precious eggs
were uncovered; and he bears one off in triumph,—a feast for his carrion
brood. When one has seen this sort of thing a dozen times, and heard the
wail of the wild things, the croak of the Raven comes to be fraught with
menace, the veritable voice of doom.
To be sure, the Raven is not really worse than his kin, but he is
distinguished by a bass voice; and does not the villain in the play
always sing bass? Somehow, one never believes the ill he hears of the
soulful tenor, even tho he sees him do it; but beware of the bird or man
who croaks at low C.
Of all students of bird-life in the West, Captain Bendire has enjoyed
the best opportunities for the study of the Raven; and his situation at
Camp Harney in eastern Oregon was very similar to such as may be found
in the southeastern part of our own State. Of this species, as observed
at that point, he says:
[Illustration: _Taken near Wallula._ _Photo by the Author._
THE RAVEN’S FIEF.]
“They are stately and rather sedate-looking birds, remain mated thru
life, and are seemingly very much attached to each other, but apparently
more unsocial to others of their kind. On the ground their movements are
deliberate and dignified; their walk is graceful and seldom varied by
hurried hops or jumps. They appear to still better advantage on the
wing, especially in winter and early spring, when pairs may be
frequently seen playing with each other, performing extraordinary feats
in the air, such as somersaults, trying to fly on their backs, etc. At
this season they seem to enjoy life most and to give vent to their
usually not very exuberant spirits by a series of low chuckling and
gurgling notes, evidently indifferent efforts at singing.
“Their ordinary call is a loud _Craack-craack_, varied sometimes by a
deep grunting _koerr-koerr_, and again by a clucking, a sort of
self-satisfied sound, difficult to reproduce on paper; in fact they
utter a variety of notes when at ease and undisturbed, among others a
metallic sounding _klunk_, which seems to cost them considerable effort.
In places where they are not molested they become reasonably tame, and I
have seen Ravens occasionally alight in my yard and feed among the
chickens, a thing I have never seen Crows do. * * *
[Illustration: _Taken in Walla Walla County._ _Photo by the Author._
NESTING HAUNT OF THE MEXICAN RAVEN.]
“Out of some twenty nests examined only one was placed in a tree. It was
in a good sized dead willow, twenty feet from the ground, on an island
in Sylvies River, Oregon, and easily reached; it contained five fresh
eggs on April 13, 1875. The other nests were placed on cliffs, and, with
few exceptions, in positions where they were comparatively secure.
Usually the nest could not be seen from above, and it generally took
several assistants and strong ropes to get near them, and even then it
was frequently impossible to reach the eggs without the aid of a long
pole with a dipper attached to the end. A favorite site was a cliff with
a southern exposure, where the nest was completely covered from above by
a projecting rock.”
Having once chosen a nesting site, the Ravens evince a great attachment
for that particular locality; and, rather than desert it, will avoid
notice by deferring the nesting season, or by visiting the eggs or young
only at night.
We have no records of the taking of Raven’s eggs in Washington, but it
does unquestionably breed here. A nest was reported to us on a cliff in
the Crab Creek Coulee. While we were unable to visit it in season, we
did come upon a family group some weeks later, comprising the two adults
and five grown young. This is possibly the northernmost breeding station
of the Mexican Raven yet reported.
No. 3.
WESTERN CROW.
A. O. U. No. 488b. Corvus brachyrhynchos hesperis (Ridgw.).
Synonyms.—California Crow. Common Crow. American Crow.
Description.—Entire plumage glossy black, for the most part with
greenish blue, steel-blue, and purplish reflections; feathers of the
neck normal, rounded. Bill and feet black; iris brown. Length
16.00-20.00; wing 12.00 (302); tail 6.70 (170); bill 1.83 (46.5);
depth at nostril .65 (16.5). Female averages smaller than male.
Recognition Marks.—Distinguishable from Northwest Crow by larger size
and clearer voice.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a neat hemisphere of sticks and twigs carefully lined
with bark, roots and trash, and placed 10-60 feet high in
trees,—willow, aspen, pine, or fir. _Eggs_: 4-6, usually 5, same
coloring as Raven’s. Occasionally fine markings produce a uniform
olive-green, or even olive-brown effect. Av. size 1.66 × 1.16 (42.2 ×
29.5). _Season_: April 15-May 15; one brood.
General Range.—Western United States from Rocky Mts. to Pacific Coast,
save shores of northwestern Washington, north in the interior of
British Columbia, south to Arizona.
Range in Washington.—Of general distribution along streams and in
settled portions of State, save along shores of Puget Sound, the
Straits, and the Pacific north of Gray’s Harbor. Not found in the
mountains nor the deeper forests, and only locally on the sage-brush
plains.
Migrations.—Resident but gregarious and localized in winter. The
winter “roosts” break up late in February.
Authorities.—_Corvus americanus_ Aud., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.
IX. 1858, 566 (part). Brewster, B. N. O. C. VII. 227. T. C&S. D¹. Kb.
Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss². Kk. J. B. E.
Specimens.—BN(?).
While the Raven holds a secure place in mythology and literature, it is
the Crow, rather, which is the object of common notice. No landscape is
too poor to boast this jetty adornment; and no morning chorus is
complete without the distant sub-dominant of his powerful voice, harsh
and protesting tho it be.
The dusky bird is a notorious mischief-maker, but he is not quite so
black as he has been painted. More than any other bird he has
successfully matched his wits against those of man, and his frequent
easy victories and consequent boastings are responsible in large measure
for the unsavory reputation in which he is held. It is a familiar adage
in ebony circles that the proper study of Crow-kind is man, and so well
has he pursued this study that he may fairly be said to hold his own in
spite of fierce and ingenious persecution. He rejoices in the name of
outlaw, and ages of ill-treatment have only served to sharpen his wits
and intensify his cunning.
[Illustration: _Taken in Oregon._ _Photo by Bohlman and Finley._
WESTERN CROW AT NEST.]
That the warfare waged against him is largely unnecessary, and partly
unjust, has been pretty clearly proven of late by scientists who have
investigated the Crow’s food habits. It is true that he destroys large
numbers of eggs and nestlings, and, if allowed to, that he will
occasionally invade the poultry yard—and for such conduct there can be
no apology. It is true, also, that some damage is inflicted upon corn in
the roasting-ear stage, and that corn left out thru the winter
constitutes a staple article of Crow diet. But it is estimated that
birds and eggs form only about one-half of one per cent of their total
diet; and in the case of grain, certainly they perform conspicuous
services in raising the crop. Besides the articles of food mentioned,
great quantities of crickets, beetles, grasshoppers, caterpillars,
cut-worms, and spiders, are consumed. Frogs, lizards, mice, and snakes
also appear occasionally upon the bill of fare. On the whole, therefore,
the Crow is not an economic Gorgon, and his destruction need not largely
concern the farmer, altho it is always well to teach the bird a proper
reverence.
The psychology of the Crow is worthy of a separate treatise. All birds
have a certain faculty of direct perception, which we are pleased to
call instinct; but the Crow, at least, comes delightfully near to
reasoning. It is on account of his phenomenal brightness that a young
Crow is among the most interesting of pets. If taken from the nest and
well treated, a young Crow can be given such a large measure of freedom
as fully to justify the experiment from a humanitarian standpoint. Of
course the sure end of such a pet is death by an ignorant neighbor’s
gun, but the dear departed is embalmed in memory to such a degree that
all Crows are thereafter regarded as upon a higher plane.
[Illustration: _Taken in Benton Co._ _Photo by the Author._
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN CROW.]
Everyone knows that Crows talk. Their cry is usually represented by a
single syllable, _caw_, but it is capable of many and important
modifications. For instance, _keraw, keraw_, comes from some irritated
and apprehensive female, who is trying to smuggle a stick into the
grove; _kawk-kawk-kawk_ proclaims sudden danger, and puts the flock into
instant commotion; while _caw-aw, caw-aw, caw-aw_ reassures them again.
Once in winter when the bird-man, for sport, was mystifying the local
bird population by reproducing the notes of the Screech Owl, a company
of Crows settled in the tops of neighboring trees, and earnestly
discussed the probable nature of the object half-concealed under a
camera cloth. Finally, they gave it up and withdrew—as I supposed. It
seems that one old fellow was not satisfied, for as I ventured to shift
ever so little from my strained position, he set up a derisive
_Ca-a-a-aw_ from a branch over my head,—as who should say, “Aw, ye can’t
fool me. Y’re just a ma-a-an,” and flapped away in disgust.
Crows attempt certain musical notes as well; and, unless I mistake, the
western bird has attained much greater proficiency in these. These notes
are deeply guttural, and evidently entail considerable effort on the
bird’s part. _Hunger-o-ope, hunger-o-ope_, one says; and it occurs to me
that this is allied to the _delary, delary_, or springboard cry, of the
Blue Jay (_Cyanocitta cristata_),—plunging notes they have also been
called.
Space fails in which to describe the elaborate structure of Crow
society; to tell of the military and pedagogical systems which they
enforce; of the courts of justice and penal institutions which they
maintain; of the vigilantes who visit vengeance upon evil-minded owls
and other offenders; or even of the games which they play,—tag, hide and
seek, blind-man’s-buff and pull-away. These things are sufficiently
attested by competent observers; we may only spare a word for that most
serious business of life, nesting.
A typical Crow’s nest is a very substantial affair, as our illustration
shows. Upon a basis of coarse sticks, a mat of dried leaves, grasses,
bark-strips, and dirt, or mud, is impressed. The deep rounded bowl thus
formed is carefully lined with the inner bark of the willow or with
twine, horse-hair, cow-hair, rabbit-fur, wool, or any other soft
substance available. When completed the nesting hollow is seven or eight
inches across and three or four deep. The expression “Crow’s nest,” as
used to indicate disarray, really arises from the consideration of _old_
nests. Since the birds resort to the same locality year after year, but
never use an old nest, the neighboring structures of successive years
come to represent every stage of dilapidation.
West of the mountains nests are almost invariably placed well up in fir
trees, hard against the trunk, and so escape the common observation.
Upon the East-side, however, nests are usually placed in aspen trees or
willows; in the former case occurring at heights up to fifty feet, in
the latter from ten to twenty feet up. Escape by mere elevation being
practically impossible, the Crows resort more or less to out-of-the-way
places,—spring draws, river islands, and swampy thickets.
Notwithstanding the fact that the spring season opens much earlier than
in the East, the Crows, true to the traditions of a northern latitude,
commonly defer nesting till late in April. Fresh eggs may be found by
the 20th of April, but more surely on the 1st of May. Incubation lasts
from fourteen to eighteen days; and the young, commonly five but
sometimes six in number, are born naked and blind.
It is when the Crow children are hatched that Nature begins to groan. It
is then that birds’ eggs are quoted by the crate; and beetles by the
hecatomb are sacrificed daily in a vain effort to satisfy the Gargantuan
appetites of these young ebons. I once had the misfortune to pitch camp
in a grove of willows which contained a nestful of Crows. The old birds
never forgave me, but upbraided me in bitter language from early morn
till dewy eve. The youngsters also suffered somewhat, I fear, for as
often as a parent bird approached, cawing in a curiously muffled voice,
choked with food, and detected me outside the tent, it swallowed its
burden without compunction, in order that it might the more forcibly
berate me.
If the male happened to discover my out-of-doorness in the absence of
his mate, he would rush at her when she hove in sight, in an officious,
blustering way, and shout, “Look out there! Keep away! The Rhino is on
the rampage again!”
I learned, also, to recognize the appearance of hawks in the offing. At
the first sign the Crow, presumably the male, begins to roll out
objurgatory gutturals as he hurries forward to meet the intruder. His
utterances, freely translated, run somewhat as follows: “That blank,
blank Swainson Hawk! I thought I told him to keep away from here. Arrah,
there, you slab-sided son of an owl! What are ye doing here? Git out o’
this! (Biff! Biff!) Git, I tell ye! (Biff!) If ever I set eyes on ye
again, I’ll feed ye to the coyotes. Git, now!” And all this without the
slightest probability that the poor hawk would molest the hideous young
pickaninnies if he did discover them. For when was a self-respecting
hawk so lost to decency as to be willing to “eat crow”?
No. 4.
NORTHWEST CROW.
A. O. U. No. 489. Corvus brachyrhynchos caurinus (Baird).
Synonyms.—Fish Crow. Western Fish Crow. Northwest Fish Crow. Puget
Sound Crow. Tidewater Crow.
Description.—Similar to _C. b. hesperis_, but decidedly smaller, with
shorter tarsus and relatively smaller feet. Length 15.00-17.00; wing
11.00 (280); tail 6.00 (158); bill 1.80 (46); tarsus 1.95 (50).
Recognition Marks.—An undersized Crow. Voice hoarse and flat as
compared with that of the Western Crow. Haunts beaches and sea-girt
rocks.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a compact mass of twigs and bark-strips with
occasionally a foundation of mud; lined carefully with fine
bark-strips and hair; 4.00 deep and 7.00 across inside; placed 10-20
feet high in orchard or evergreen trees, sometimes in loose colony
fashion. _Eggs_: 4 or 5, indistinguishable in color from those of the
Common Crow, but averaging smaller. A typical set averages 1.56 × 1.08
(39.6 × 27.4). _Season_: April 15-June 1; one brood.
General Range.—American coasts of the North Pacific Ocean and its
estuaries from Olympia and the mouth of the Columbia River north at
least to the Alaskan peninsula.
Range in Washington.—Shores and islands of Puget Sound, the Straits of
Juan de Fuca, and the West Coast (at least as far south as Moclips,
presumably to Cape Disappointment). Strictly resident.
Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814), ed. Biddle: Coues,
Vol. II. p. 185.] _Corvus caurinus_ Baird, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. IX. June 29, 1858, 569, 570. T. C&S. L¹. Rh. Kb. Ra. Kk. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. E. B.
After lengthy discussion it is pretty well settled that the Crow of the
northwestern sea-coasts is merely a dwarfed race of the _Corvus
brachyrhynchos_ group; and that it shades perfectly into the prevailing
western type, _C. b. hesperis_, wherever that species occupies adjacent
regions. This area of intergradation lies chiefly south and west of
Puget Sound, in Washington; for the Crow is ever fond of the half-open
country, and does not take kindly to the unmitigated forest depths, save
where, as in the case of the Fish Crow, he may find relief upon the
broad expanses of shore and tide-flats. The case is quite analogous to
that of native man. The larger, more robust types were found in the
eastern interior, while those tribes which were confined exclusively to
residence upon the sea-shore tended to become dwarfed and stunted; and
the region of intergradation lay not chiefly along the western slopes of
the Cascades with their crushing weight of tall timber, but in the
prairie regions bordering Puget Sound upon the south.
It is impossible, therefore, to pronounce with certainty upon the
subspecific identity of Crows seen near shore in Mason, Thurston,
Pierce, or even King County; but in Clallam, Jefferson, San Juan, and
the other counties of the Northwest, one has no difficulty in
recognizing the dwarf race. Not only are these Crows much smaller in
point of size, but the voice is weaker, flatter, and more hoarse, as tho
affected by an ever-present fog. So marked is this vocal change, that
one may note the difference between birds seen along shore in Pierce
County and those which frequent the uplands. However,—and this caution
must be noted—the upland birds do visit the shore on occasion; and the
regular shore dwellers are by no means confined thereto, as are the more
typical birds found further north.
The early observers were feeling for these differences, and if Nature
did not afford sufficient ground for easy discrimination, imagination
could supply the details. The following paragraph from the much quoted
work[4] of John Keast Lord is interesting because deliciously untrue.
“The sea-coast is abandoned when the breeding time arrives early in May,
when they resort in pairs to the interior; selecting a patch of open
prairie, where there are streams and lakes and where the wild crab apple
and white-thorn grows, in which they build nests precisely like that of
the Magpie, arched over the top with sticks. The bird enters by a hole
on one side but leaves by an exit hole in the opposite. The inside is
plastered with mud; a few grass stalks strewn loosely on the bottom keep
the eggs from rolling. This is so marked a difference to the Barking
Crow’s nesting [“Barking Crow” is J. K. L.’s solecism for the Western
Crow, _C. b. hesperis_], as in itself to be a specific distinction. The
eggs are lighter in blotching and much smaller. I examined great numbers
[! !] of nests at this prairie and on the Columbia, but invariably found
that the same habit of doming prevailed. After nesting, they return with
the young to the sea-coasts, and remain in large flocks often associated
with Barking Crows until nesting time comes again.”—No single point of
which has been confirmed by succeeding observers.
[Illustration: _Taken at Neah Bay._ _Photo by the Author._
THE PHANTOM CROWS.]
Dr. Cooper wrote[5] with exact truthfulness: “This fish-crow frequents
the coast and inlets of this Territory in large numbers, and is much
more gregarious and familiar than the common Crow. Otherwise it much
resembles that bird in habits, being very sagacious, feeding on almost
everything animal and vegetable, and having nearly the same cries,
differing rather in tone than character. Its chief dependence for food
being on the sea, it is generally found along the beach, devouring dead
fish and other things brought up by the waves. It is also very fond of
oysters, which it breaks by carrying them upward and dropping again on a
rock or other hard material. When the tide is full they resort to the
fields or dwellings near the shore and devour potatoes and other
vegetables, offal, etc. They, like the gulls, perceive the instant of
change of the tide, and flocks will then start off together for a
favorite feeding ground. They are very troublesome to the Indians,
stealing their dried fish and other things, while from superstitious
feelings the Indians never kill them but set a child to watch and drive
them away. They build in trees near the shore in the same way as the
common crow and the young are fledged in May.”
Mr. J. F. Edwards, a pioneer of ’67, tells me that in the early days a
small drove of pigs was an essential feature of every well-equipped
saw-mill on Puget Sound. The pigs were given the freedom of the
premises, slept in the saw dust, and dined behind the mess-house.
Between meals they wandered down to the beach and rooted for clams at
low tide. The Crows were not slow to learn the advantages of this
arrangement and posted themselves promptly in the most commanding and
only safe positions; viz., on the backs of the pigs. The pig grunted and
squirmed, but Mr. Crow, mindful of the blessings ahead, merely extended
a balancing wing and held on. The instant the industrious rooter turned
up a clam, the Crow darted down, seized it in his beak and made off;
resigning his station to some sable brother, and leaving the porker to
reflect discontentedly upon the rapacity of the upper classes. Mr.
Edwards declares that he has seen this little comedy enacted, not once,
but a hundred times, at Port Madison and at Alberni, V. I.
The Fish Crows have learned from the gulls the delights of sailing the
main on driftwood. I have seen numbers of them going out with the tide a
mile or more from shore, and once a Crow kept company with three gulls
on a float so small that the gulls had continually to strive for
position; but the Crow stood undisturbed.
[Illustration: _Photo by the Author._
BIRDS AND BOATS AT NEAH BAY.]
Speaking of their aquatic tendencies, Mr. A. B. Reagan, of La Push,
assures me that he has repeatedly seen them catch smelt in the ocean
near shore. These fish become involved in the breakers and may be
snatched from above by the dextrous bird without any severe wetting.
Crows are still the most familiar feature of Indian village life. The
Indian, perhaps, no longer cherishes any superstition regarding him, but
he is reluctant to banish such a familiar evil. The Quillayutes call the
bird _Kah-ah-yó_: and it is safe to say that fifty pairs of these Fish
Crows nest within half a mile of the village of La Push. They nest,
indifferently, in the saplings of the coastal thickets, or against the
trunks of the larger spruces, and take little pains to escape
observation. The birds are, however, becoming quite shy of a gun. Seeing
a half dozen of them seated in the tip of a tall spruce in the open
woods, I raised my fowling piece to view, whereupon all flew with
frantic cries. Indeed it required considerable manœuvering and an
ambuscade to secure the single specimen needed.
[Illustration: _Taken on Waldron Id._ _Photo by the Author._
THE CROW’S FARE.]
At Neah Bay the Fish Crows patrol the beach incessantly and allow very
little of the halibut fishers’ largess to float off on the tide. And the
_Oke-t(c)ope_, as the Makahs call the birds, have little fear of the
Indians, altho they are very suspicious of a strange white man. I once
saw a pretty sight on this beach: a three year old Indian girl chasing
the Crows about in childish glee. The birds enjoyed the frolic as much
as she, and fell in behind her as fast as she shooed them away in
front—came within two or three feet of her, too, and made playful dashes
at her chubby legs. But might I be permitted to photograph the scene at,
say, fifty yards? _Mit nichten!_ Arragh! To your tents, O Israel!
In so far as this Crow consents to perform the office of scavenger, he
is a useful member of society. Nor is his consumption of shell-fish a
serious matter. But when we come to consider the quality and extent of
his depredations upon colonies of nesting sea-birds, we find that he
merits unqualified condemnation. For instance, two of us bird-men once
visited the west nesting of Baird Cormorants on Flattop, to obtain
photographs. As we retired down the cliff, I picked up a broken shell of
a Cormorant’s egg, from which the white, or plasma, was still dripping.
As we pulled away from the foot of the cliff a Crow flashed into view,
lighted on the edge of a Shag’s nest, seized an egg, and bore it off
rapidly into the woods above, where the clamor of expectant young soon
told of the disposition that was being made of it. Immediately the
marauder was back again, seized the other egg, and was off as before.
All this, mind you, in a trice, before we were sufficiently out of range
for the Cormorants to reach their nests again, altho they were hastening
toward them. Back came the Crow, but the first nest was exhausted; the
second had nothing in it; the Shags were on the remainder; moments were
precious—he made a dive at a Gull’s nest, but the Gulls made a dive at
him; and they too hastened to their eggs.
Subsequent investigation discovered rifled egg-shells all over the
island, and it was an easy matter to pick up a hatful for evidence. As
he is at Flattop, so he is everywhere, an indefatigable robber of birds’
nests, a sneaking, thieving, hated, black marauder. It is my deliberate
conviction that the successful rearing of a nestful of young Crows costs
the lives of a hundred sea-birds. The Baird Cormorant is, doubtless, the
heaviest loser; and she appears to have no means of redress after the
mischief is done, save to lay more eggs,—more eggs to feed more Crows,
to steal more eggs, etc.
No. 5.
CLARK’S NUTCRACKER.
A.O.U. No. 491. Nucifraga columbiana (Wils.).
Synonyms.—Clark’s Crow. Pine Crow. Gray Crow. “Camp Robber.” (Thru
confusion with the Gray Jay, _Perisoreus_ sp.).
Description.—_Adults_: General plumage smoky gray, lightening on head,
becoming sordid white on forehead, lores, eyelids, malar region and
chin; wings glossy black, the secondaries broadly tipped with white;
under tail-coverts and four outermost pairs of rectrices white, the
fifth pair with outer web chiefly white and the inner web chiefly
black, the remaining (central) pair of rectrices and the upper
tail-coverts black; bill and feet black; iris brown. Shade of gray in
plumage of adults variable—bluish ash in freshly moulted specimens,
darker and browner, or irregularly whitening in worn plumage. _Young_
like adults, but browner. Length 11.00-13.00; wing 7.00-8.00 (192);
tail 4.50 (115); bill 1.60 (40.7); tarsus 1.45 (36.8). Female smaller
than male.
Recognition Marks.—Kingfisher size; gray plumage with abruptly
contrasting black-and-white of wings and tail; harsh “_char-r_” note.
Nesting.—_Nest_: basally a platform of twigs on which is massed fine
strips of bark with a lining of bark and grasses, placed well out on
horizontal limb of evergreen tree, 10-50 feet up. _Eggs_: 2-5, usually
3, pale green sparingly flecked and spotted with lavender and brown
chiefly about larger end. Av. size, 1.30 × .91 (33 × 23.1). _Season_:
March 20-April 10; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America in coniferous timber, from
Arizona and New Mexico to Alaska; casual east of the Rockies.
Range in Washington.—Of regular occurrence in the mountains thruout
the State. Resident in the main but visits the foothills and lower
pine-clad levels of eastern Washington at the close of the nesting
season.
Authorities.—_Corvus columbianus_, Wilson, Am. Orn. iii. 1811, 29. T.
C&S. D¹. D². J. E.
Specimens.—(U. of W.). Prov. E. C.
No bird-lover can forget his first encounter with this singular
Old-Bird-of-the-Mountains. Ten to one the bird brought the man up
standing by a stentorian _char’r’r, char’r’r, char’r’r_, which led him
to search wildly in his memory whether Rocs are credited with voices. If
the bird was particularly concerned at the man’s intrusion, he presently
revealed himself sitting rather stolidly on a high pine branch,
repeating that harsh and deafening cry. The grating voice is decidedly
unpleasant at close quarters, and it is quite out of keeping with the
unquestioned sobriety of its grizzled owner. A company of Nutcrackers in
the distance finds frequent occasion for outcry, and the din is only
bearable as it is softened and modified by the re-echoing walls of some
pine-clad gulch, or else dissipated by the winds which sweep over the
listening glaciers.
[Illustration: CLARK’S NUTCRACKER.]
Clark’s Nutcracker is the presiding genius of the East-side slopes and
light-forested foothills, as well as of the rugged fastnesses of the
central Cordilleras. His presence, during fall and winter, at the lower
altitudes depends in large measure upon the pine-cone crop, since pine
seeds are his staple, tho by no means his exclusive diet. This black and
white and gray “Crow” curiously combines the characteristics of
Woodpecker and Jay as well. Like the Lewis Woodpecker, he sometimes
hawks at passing insects, eats berries from bushes, or alights on the
ground to glean grubs, grasshoppers, and black crickets. In the
mountains it shares with the Jays of the _Perisoreus_ group the names
“meat-bird” and “camp-robber,” for nothing that is edible comes amiss to
this bird, and instances are on record of its having invaded not only
the open-air kitchen, but the tent, as well, in search of “supplies.”
Of its favorite food, John Keast Lord says: “Clark’s ‘Crows’ have, like
the Cross-bills, to get out the seeds from underneath the scaly
coverings constituting the outward side of the fir-cone; nature has not
given them crossed mandibles to lever open the scales, but instead, feet
and claws, that serve the purpose of hands, and a powerful bill like a
small crowbar. To use the crowbar to advantage the cone needs steadying,
or it would snap at the stem and fall; to accomplish this one foot
clasps it, and the powerful claws hold it firmly, whilst the other foot
encircling the branch, supports the bird, either back downward, head
downward, on its side, or upright like a woodpecker, the long clasping
claws being equal to any emergency; the cone thus fixed and a firm hold
maintained on the branch, the seeds are gouged out from under the
scales.”
These Nutcrackers are among the earliest and most hardy nesters. They
are practically independent of climate, but are found during the nesting
months—March, or even late in February, and early April—only where there
is a local abundance of pine (or fir) seeds. They are artfully silent at
this season, and the impression prevails that they have “gone to the
mountains”; or, if in the mountains already, the presence of a dozen
feet of snow serves to allay the oölogist’s suspicions.
The nest is a very substantial affair of twigs and bark-strips, heavily
lined, as befits a cold season, and placed at any height in a pine or
fir tree, without noticeable attempt at concealment. The birds take
turns incubating and—again because of the cold season—are very close
sitters. Three eggs are usually laid, of about the size and shape of
Magpies’ eggs, but much more lightly colored. Incubation, Bendire
thinks, lasts sixteen or seventeen days, and the young are fed solely on
hulled pine seeds, at the first, presumably, regurgitated.
If the Corvine affinities of this bird were nowhere else betrayed, they
might be known from the hunger cries of the young. The importunate _añh,
añh, añh_ of the expectant bantling, and the subsequent _gullú, gullú,
gullú_ of median deglutition (and boundless satisfaction) will always
serve to bind the Crow, Magpie, and Nutcracker together in one compact
group. When the youngsters are “ready for college,” the reserve of early
spring is set aside and the hillsides are made to resound with much
practice of that uncanny yell before mentioned. Family groups are
gradually obliterated and, along in June, the birds of the foothills
begin to retire irregularly to the higher ranges, either to rest up
after the exhausting labors of the season, or to revel in midsummer
gaiety with scores and hundreds of their fellows.
No. 6.
PINON JAY.
A. O. U. No. 492. Cyanocephalus cyanocephalus (Maxim.).
Synonyms.—Blue Crow. Maximilian’s Jay. Pine Jay.
Description.—_Adults_: Plumage dull grayish blue, deepening on crown
and nape, brightening on cheeks, paling below posteriorly, streaked
and grayish white on chin, throat and chest centrally; bill and feet
black; iris brown. _Young_ birds duller, gray rather than blue, except
on wings and tail. Length of adult males 11.00-12.00; wing 6.00 (154);
tail 4.50 (114); bill 1.42 (36); tarsus 1.50 (38). Female somewhat
smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; blue color; crow-like aspect.
Nesting.—Not supposed to nest in State.
General Range.—Piñon and juniper woods of western United States; north
to southern British Columbia (interior), Idaho, etc.; south to
Northern Lower California, Arizona, New Mexico, and western Texas;
casually along the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mts.
Range in Washington.—One record by Capt. Bendire, Fort Simcoe, Yakima
Co., June, 1881, “quite numerous.” Presumably casual at close of
nesting season.
Authorities.—[“Maximilian’s Nutcracker,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884
(1885), 22.] _Cyanocephalus cyanocephalus_ (Wied), Bendire, Life Hist.
N. A. Birds, Vol. II. p. 425 (1895).
Specimens.—C.
Captain Bendire who is sole authority for the occurrence of this bird in
Washington may best be allowed to speak here from his wide experience:
“The Piñon Jay, locally known as ‘Nutcracker,’ ‘Maximilian’s Jay,’ ‘Blue
Crow,’ and as ‘Pinonario’ by the Mexicans, is rather a common resident
in suitable localities throughout the southern portions of its range,
while in the northern parts it is only a summer visitor, migrating
regularly. It is most abundantly found throughout the piñon and
cedar-covered foothills abounding between the western slopes of the
Rocky Mountains and the eastern bases of the Sierra Nevada and Cascade
ranges in California, Nevada, and Oregon.
“It is an eminently sociable species at all times, even during the
breeding season, and is usually seen in large compact flocks, moving
about from place to place in search of feeding grounds, being on the
whole rather restless and erratic in its movements; you may meet with
thousands in a place to-day and perhaps to-morrow you will fail to see a
single one. It is rarely met with at altitudes of over 9,000 feet in
summer, and scarcely ever in the higher coniferous forests; its favorite
haunts are the piñon-covered foothills of the minor mountain regions,
the sweet and very palatable seeds of these trees furnishing its
favorite food during a considerable portion of the year. In summer they
feed largely on insects of all kinds, especially grasshoppers, and are
quite expert in catching these on the wing; cedar and juniper berries,
small seeds of various kinds, and different species of wild berries also
enter largely into their bill of fare. A great deal of time is spent on
the ground where they move along in compact bodies while feeding, much
in the manner of Blackbirds, the rearmost birds rising from time to
time, flying over the flock and alighting again in front of the main
body; they are rather shy and alert while engaged in feeding. I followed
a flock numbering several thousands which was feeding in the open pine
forest bordering the Klamath Valley, Oregon, for more than half a mile,
trying to get a shot at some of them, but in this I was unsuccessful.
They would not allow me to get within range, and finally they became
alarmed, took wing, and flew out of sight down the valley. On the next
day, September 18, 1882, I saw a still larger flock, which revealed its
presence by the noise made; these I headed off, and awaited their
approach in a dense clump of small pines in which I had hidden; I had
not long to wait and easily secured several specimens. On April 4, 1883,
I saw another large flock feeding in the open woods, evidently on their
return to their breeding grounds farther north, and by again getting in
front of them I secured several fine males. These birds are said to
breed in large numbers in the juniper groves near the eastern slopes of
the Cascade Mountains, on the head waters of the Des Chutes River,
Oregon. I have also seen them in the Yakima Valley, near old Fort
Simcoe, in central Washington, in June, 1881, in an oak opening, where
they were quite numerous. Their center of abundance, however, is in the
piñon or nut-pine belt, which does not extend north of latitude 40°, if
so far, and wherever these trees are found in large numbers the Piñon
Jay can likewise be looked for with confidence.
“Their call notes are quite variable; some of them are almost as harsh
as the ‘_chaar_’ of the Clarke’s Nutcracker, others partake much of the
gabble of the Magpie, and still others resemble more those of the Jays.
A shrill, querulous ‘_peeh, peeh_,’ or ‘_whee, whee_,’ is their common
call note. While feeding on the ground they kept up a constant
chattering, which can be heard for quite a distance, and in this way
often betray their whereabouts.”
No. 7.
AMERICAN MAGPIE.
A. O. U. No. 475. Pica pica hudsonia (Sabine).
Synonym.—Black-billed Magpie.
Description.—_Adults_: Lustrous black with violet, purplish, green,
and bronzy iridescence, brightest on wings and tail; an elongated
scapular patch pure white; lower breast, upper abdomen, flanks and
sides broadly pure white; primaries extensively white on inner web; a
broad band on rump with large admixture of white; tail narrowly
graduated thru terminal three-fifths; bill and feet black; iris black.
_Young_ birds lack iridescence on head and are elsewhere duller;
relative length of tail sure index of age in juvenile specimens.
Length of adults 15.00-20.00, of which tail 8.00-12.00 (Av. 265); wing
7.85 (200); bill 1.35 (35.); tarsus 1.85 (47).
Recognition Marks.—Black-and-white plumage with long tail
unmistakable.
Nesting.—_Nest_: normally a large sphere of interlaced sticks, “as big
as a bushel basket,” placed 5-40 feet high in willow, aspen,
grease-wood or pine. The nest proper is a contained hemisphere of mud
8-10 inches across inside, and with walls 1-2 inches in thickness,
carefully lined for half its depth with twigs surmounted by a mat of
fine rootlets. _Eggs_: 7 or 8, rarely 10, pale grayish green, quite
uniformly freckled and spotted with olive green or olive brown.
Occasionally spots nearly confluent in heavy ring about larger end, in
which case remainder of egg likely to be less heavily marked than
usual. Shape variable, rounded ovate to elongate ovate. Av. size, 1.20
× .88 (30.5 × 22.3). _Season_: March 20-May 1; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America chiefly in treeless or sparsely
timbered areas from southern Arizona, New Mexico, and western Texas
north to northwestern Alaska. Straggles eastward to west shore of
Hudson Bay, and occurs casually in North Central States, Nebraska,
etc. Replaced in California west of the Sierras by _Pica nuttalli_.
Range in Washington.—Confined to East-side during breeding season,
where of nearly universal distribution. Disappears along east slope of
Cascades and does not-deeply penetrate the mountain valleys. Migrates
regularly but sparingly thru mountain passes to West-side at close of
breeding season.
Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814) Ed. Biddle: Coues,
Vol. II. p. 185.] _Pica hudsonica_ Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. IX. pt. II. (1858), 578. T. C&S. Rh. D¹. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss². J. B.
E.
Specimens.—(U. of W.) P. Prov. B. E. BN.
Here is another of those rascals in feathers who keep one alternately
grumbling and admiring. As an abstract proposition one would not stake a
_sou marquee_ on the virtue of a Magpie; but taken in the concrete, with
a sly wink and a saucy tilt of the tail, one will rise to his feet,
excitedly shouting, “Go it, Jackity,” and place all his earnings on this
pie-bald steed in the race for avian honors. It is impossible to
exaggerate this curious contradiction in Magpie nature, and in our
resulting attitude towards it. It is much the same with the mischievous
small boy. He has surpassed the bounds of legitimate naughtiness, and we
take him on the parental knee for well-deserved correction. But the
saucy culprit manages to steal a roguish glance at us,—a glance which
challenges the remembrance of our own boyish pranks, and bids us ask
what difference it will make twenty years after; and it is all off with
discipline for that occasion.
The Magpie is indisputably a wretch, a miscreant, a cunning thief, a
heartless marauder, a brigand bold—Oh, call him what you will! But,
withal, he is such a picturesque villain, that as often as you are
stirred with righteous indignation and impelled to punitive slaughter,
you fall to wondering if your commission as avenger is properly
countersigned, and—shirk the task outright.
The cattle men have it in for him, because the persecutions of the
Magpie sometimes prevent scars made by the branding iron from healing;
and cases are known in which young stock has died because of malignant
sores resulting. This is, of course, a grave misdemeanor; but when the
use of fences shall have fully displaced the present custom of branding,
we shall probably hear no more of it.
[Illustration: _Taken in Yakima County._ _Photo by the Author._
NEST OF MAGPIE IN GREASEWOOD.]
[Illustration: AMERICAN MAGPIE.]
Beyond this it is indisputably true that Magpies are professional nest
robbers. At times they organize systematic searching parties, and
advance thru the sage-brush, poking, prying, spying, and devouring, with
the ruthlessness and precision of a pestilence. Not only eggs but young
birds are appropriated. I once saw a Magpie seize a half-grown
Meadowlark from its nest, carry it to its own domicile, and parcel it
out among its clamoring brood. Then, in spite of the best defense the
agonized parents could institute, it calmly returned and selected
another. Sticks and stones shied by the bird-man merely deferred the
doom of the remaining larks. The Magpie was not likely to forget the
whereabouts of such easy meat.
[Illustration: _Taken in Yakima County._ _Photo by the Author._
MAGPIE’S NEST FROM ABOVE.
WITH CANOPY REMOVED. SAME NEST AS IN ILLUSTRATION ON PAGE 24.]
Nor is such a connoisseur of eggs likely to overlook the opportunities
afforded by a poultry yard. He becomes an adept at purloining eggs, and
can make off with his booty with astonishing ease. One early morning,
seeing a Magpie fly over the corral with something large and white in
his bill, and believing that he had alighted not far beyond, I followed
quickly and frightened him from a large hen’s egg, which bore externally
the marks of the bird’s bill, but which was unpierced. Of course the
only remedy for such a habit is the shot-gun.
To say that Magpies are garrulous would be as trite as to say hens
cackle, and the adjective could not be better defined than “talking like
a Magpie.” The Magpie is the symbol of loquacity. The very type in which
this is printed is small _pica_; that is small _Magpie_. Much of this
bird’s conversation is undoubtedly unfit for print, but it has always
the merit of vivacity. A party of Magpies will keep up a running
commentary on current events, now facetious, now vehement, as they move
about; while a comparative cessation of the racket means, as likely as
not, that some favorite raconteur is holding forth, and that there will
be an explosion of riotous laughter when his tale is done. The pie, like
Nero, aspires to song; but no sycophant will be found to praise him, for
he intersperses his more tuneful musings with chacks and barks and harsh
interjections which betray a disordered taste. In modulation and
quality, however, the notes sometimes verge upon the human; and it is
well known that Magpies can be instructed until they acquire a handsome
repertoire of speech.
In order that their double quartet of youngsters may be lined up for the
egg harvest, the Magpies take an early start at home building. April is
the nesting month, but I have two records for March 30th,—one of five
eggs at Chelan, and one of eight in Yakima County. In the latter
instance the first egg must have been deposited not later than March
18th. And because the season affords him no protection, the Magpie
resorts to two expedients in nest building in lieu of concealment: he
first seeks retirement, the depths of some lonesome swamp, an
unfrequented draw, or wooded spring, in the foothills, and then he
erects a castle which would do credit to a feudal baron. The nest is a
ball of interlacing sticks set about a hollow half-sphere of dried mud.
The amount of labor expended upon one of these structures is prodigious.
The greasewood nest shown in the accompanying cut is three feet deep and
two feet thru, and the component sticks are so firmly interwoven that no
ordinary agency, short of the human hand, can effect an entrance. The
bird enters thru an obscure passage in one side, and, if surprised upon
the nest, has always a way of escape planned thru the opposite wall. The
mud cup is carefully shaped with walls an inch or two in thickness, a
total breadth of eight or ten inches, and a like depth. In the best
construction this cavity is filled to a depth of three or four inches
with a loose mat of fine twigs of a uniform size. Upon this in turn is
placed a coiled mattress of fine, clean rootlets, the whole affording a
very sanitary arrangement.
Another fortress, of single construction, was four feet deep and three
and a half feet thru; and that, too, after making liberal allowance for
chance projections. The component sticks measure up to three feet in
length and three-quarters of an inch in thickness. Nests are repaired
and re-occupied year after year; or if they fall into hopeless decay,
new structures are erected upon the ruins of the old. The tenement
photographed on Homely Island is a double nest (it looks triple, but the
upper third is merely the dome for the central portion, or nest proper),
and measures seven feet from top to bottom. It contained seven eggs on
April 24th, 1905, but altho the oölogist is very fond of little Magpies’
eggs, he left these as a tribute to Mr. and Mrs. Cheops.
[Illustration: _Taken in Benton County._ _Photo by the Author._
MAGPIE’S NEST ON HOMELY ISLAND.]
This historic pile is in marked contrast to one sighted in a willow on
the banks of Crab Creek near Odessa. My attention was attracted to the
spot by a scuffle, which took place between a Magpie and a pair of
Kingbirds; and when I started to examine the nest, I was in honest doubt
whether it might not belong to the Kingbirds. The foundation was of mud,
but this came near constituting the outside of the nest instead of the
inside. The action of the wind upon the willows had compressed the mud
bowl to a boat-shaped receptacle wherein lay five brown beauties,
unmistakable Magpies’ eggs. There was a copious lining of rootlets, and
a light half-cover of thorn twigs; but the whole structure was not over
a foot in diameter and scarcely that in depth.
[Illustration: _Taken near Spokane._ _Photo by Fred S. Merrill._
YOUNG MAGPIE.]
Magpies, like Blue Jays, are discreetly quiet in nesting time, and
especially so if they have attempted to nest in the vicinity of a
farmhouse. When driven to the hills by persecution they accept any
shelter, and will nest in greasewood, sage-brush, or even on the ground.
Arbors of clematis (_clematis ligusticifolia_) offer occasional
concealment, but thornapples (_Cratægus columbianum_, etc.) afford the
safest retreat. A Magpie snugly ensconced in a thornapple fortress may
well bid defiance to any retributive agency short of man. Among several
scores of nests I never saw one in a pine tree in the Yakima country,
yet these are freely utilized in Chelan, Okanogan, and Spokane Counties.
Indeed, in these latter localities there is a suspicion of dawning
preference for the tree-tops and difficult climbs. On the Columbia River
I once found a family of Magpies occupying the basement of a huge
Osprey’s nest, and had reason to believe that the thrifty pies made
efficient, if unwelcome, janitors.
Young Magpies are unsightly when hatched,—“worse than naked,” and
repulsive to a degree equaled only by young Cormorants. Hideous as they
unquestionably are, the devoted parents declare them angels, and are
ready to back their opinions with most raucous vociferations. With the
possible exception of Herons, who are plebes anyhow, Magpies are the
most abusive and profane of birds. When a nest of young birds is
threatened, they not only express such reasonable anxiety as any parent
might feel, but they denounce, upbraid, anathematize, and vilify the
intruder, and decry his lineage from Adam down. They show the ingenuity
of Orientals in inventing opprobrious epithets, and when these run dry,
they fall to tearing at the leaves, the twigs, the branches, or even
light on the ground and rip up the soil with their beaks, in the mad
extremity of their rage.
A pair with whom I experimented near Wallula rather fell into the humor
of the thing. The Magpie is ever a wag, and these must have known that
repeated visits could mean no harm. Nevertheless, as often as I rattled
the nest from my favorite perch on the willow tree, the old pies opened
fresh vials of wrath and emptied their contents upon my devoted head.
When mere utterance became inadequate, the male bird fell to hewing at
the end of a broken branch in most eloquent indignation. He wore this
down four inches in the course of my three visits. Once, when my
attention was diverted, he took a sly crack at my outstretched fingers,
which were hastily withdrawn; and, believe me, we both laughed.
The Black-billed Magpie winters practically thruout its breeding range,
but it also indulges in irregular migratory movements, which in
Washington take the form of excursions to the coast. While never common
on Puget Sound, they are not unlikely to occur anywhere here in the fall
of the year, and are almost certain to be found somewhere about the
southern prairies. They return early in spring by way of the major
passes, and are not again seen within the heavily timbered areas during
the breeding season. Mr. D. E. Brown, then of Glacier, on the north fork
of the Nooksack River, records under date of March 4, 1905, the
appearance of several bands of Magpies passing eastward at a
considerable height, perhaps something between three and five thousand
feet. He says they were unrecognizable until glasses were trained on
them, and he thinks he must have seen at least fifty birds, with chances
for many more to have passed unobserved.
East or west the Magpie becomes a pensioner of the slaughter house in
winter, and his fondness for meat has often proved his undoing in the
cattle country. As a scavenger his services are not inconsiderable. The
only trouble is, as has been said, that he sometimes kills his own meat.
Volumes could be written of the Magpie as a pet. He is a brainy chap as
well as a wag, and infinitely more interesting than a stupid parrot.
Mischief is his special forte: the untying of shoe-strings, the
investigation of cavities, the secreting of spoons, and the aimless
abstraction of gold teeth are his unending delight. Once when the writer
was shelling seed peas in the garden, a spoiled “Jackity” assayed to
fill his (the man’s) ears with these innocent pellets; and when he
discovered a rent in the knee of the man’s trousers, he fairly chortled,
“Well; I see myself busy for a week filling _that_ hole!”
Cage life is irksome for bird or beast; but, if we must be amused, and,
above all, if we feel called upon to pass adverse judgment upon this
gifted bundle of contradictions, as he exists in a state of nature, let
our harshest sentence be sociable confinement with occasional freedom on
parole. A bird in the cage is worth two in the obituary columns.
No. 8.
CALIFORNIA JAY.
A. O. U. No. 481. Aphelocoma californica (Vigors).
Description.—_Adults_: In general blue, changing to brownish gray on
back (scapulars and interscapulars), whitening variously on
underparts; crown, hind neck and sides of neck dull cobalt blue,
nearly uniform; wings, tail, and upper tail-coverts dull azure blue;
cheeks and auriculars cobalt blue and dusky; chin, throat, and chest,
centrally, white, the last-named with admixture of blue in streaks,
and passing into the clear blue of its sides; breast sordid gray,
passing into dull white of remaining underparts; shorter under
tail-coverts pure white, the longer ones tinged with pale blue; bill
and feet black; iris brown. In _young birds_ the blue of adults is
supplanted by mouse-gray on head and lower neck, rump, etc., save that
crown is tinged with blue; the gray of back is of a deeper shade; the
underparts are white, save for light brownish wash across breast and
sides. Length of adult males 11.50-12.25; wing 5.00 (127); tail 5.60
(143); bill 1.00 (25.4); tarsus 1.60 (41). Females slightly smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; blue coloration without crest; whitish
underparts.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a bed of small twigs without mud and heavily lined
with fine dead grass; 8 inches across outside by 3½ in depth—thus much
smaller and lighter than that of the Steller Jay—placed at moderate
elevation in tree or bush in thicket near water. _Eggs_: 3-6, usually
4 or 5, deep green of varying shades, spotted with reddish browns. Av.
size, 1.11 × .82 (28.2 × 20.8). _Season_: first week in May; one
brood.
General Range.—Pacific Coast district of United States, including
eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada and the Cascade Range in Oregon,
north to southwestern Washington.
Range in Washington.—Of limited but regular occurrence along the banks
of the Columbia west of the Cascades. Resident.
Authorities.—[“California Jay,” Johnson Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885),
22]. [Belding, Land Birds Pac. Dist. (1890) p. 111] _Aphelocoma
californica_, Lawrence, Auk, July, 1892, p. 301.
Specimens.—C.
Thru the western part of Oregon the breeding limits of the California
Jay do not extend as far north as the Columbia River. I have never known
of this species nesting about Portland, yet thirty miles south and
southwest it is not at all uncommon. Thru the Willamette Valley, one
meets this bird about as often as the Steller Jay. The habits of the two
jays are much the same, yet the birds are easily distinguished by their
dress, the California Jay having more resemblance to the Blue Jay of the
East in color but lacking the crest, while the Steller Jay has a dark
blue and blackish coat with the long crest.
[Illustration: _Taken in Oregon._ _Photo by Finley and Bohlman._
YOUNG CALIFORNIA JAY.]
According to popular opinion, the California Jay is a bird of bad
reputation. Many people think he does nothing but go about wrecking the
homes of other birds and feasting on their eggs. This is not true, altho
occasionally a Jay will destroy the home of another bird. In Oregon I
have often seen this bird feeding on wheat about the edge of the fields
after the grain has been cut. Fruit, grain, grasshoppers and other
insects make up a large part of his food.
Several years ago I saw a small flock of California Jays along the
Columbia River in the dead of winter. During the nesting season the jay
is too quiet to show his real character. During the autumn and winter he
throws off all restraint, picks up a few mates and goes wandering about
from place to place in search of food. The bold and boisterous squawk of
the Blue Jay always comes to my ear as a welcome and fitting note to
relieve the cold quiet of the winter woods.
One day I was watching several English Sparrows that were feeding on the
ground under an oak when a pair of California Jays came flying thru the
trees. With a loud squawk one swooped down, with his wings and tail
spread and his feathers puffed out as much as possible, evidently
expecting to scare the sparrows. He dropped right in their midst with a
screech which plainly said, “Get out of here or I’ll eat you up alive!”
The bluff might have worked with any bird except an Englisher. The
Sparrows sputtered in contempt and were ready to fight but the Jay’s
attitude changed in a second. He took on an air of meekness and
unconcern and hopped off looking industriously in the grass for
something he had no idea of finding. I thought it a good touch of Jay
character.
William L. Finley.
No. 9.
STELLER’S JAY.
A. O. U. No. 478. Cyanocitta stelleri (Gmelin).
Synonyms.—“BLue Jay.” “Jaybird.”
Description.—_Adults_: Head and neck all around, and back, sooty
black, touched with streaks of cerulean blue on forehead, and pale
gray on chin and throat, this color passing insensibly into dull blue
on breast and rump and richer blue on wings and tail; terminal portion
of tail and wings crossed with fine black bars, sharply on secondaries
and tertials, faintly or not at all on greater coverts. Bill and feet
black; iris brown. _Young birds_ are more extensively sooty, and
wing-bars are faint or wanting. Length of adults about 12.00; wing
5.90 (150); tail 5.43 (138); bill 1.18 (30); tarsus 1.80 (46).
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; harsh notes; blue and black coloration
unmistakable.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a bulky mass of fine twigs thickly plastered
centrally with mud and lined with fine rootlets, placed 6-30 feet high
in evergreen tree of thicket, or near edge of clearing. _Eggs_: 3-5,
usually 4, pale bluish green, uniformly but moderately spotted with
olive brown and pale rufous and with numerous “shell-markings” of
lavender. Av. size, 1.23 × .90 (31.2 × 22.8). _Season_: April 20-May
10; one brood.
General Range.—North Pacific Coast district from Gray’s Harbor and
Puget Sound north to Cook’s Inlet, except Prince of Wales Island and
the Queen Charlotte group (where displaced by _C. s. carlottæ_).
Range in Washington.—Entire western portion from summit of Cascades,
shading into _C. s. carbonacea_ along north bank of the Columbia.
Resident.
Authorities.—? _Cyanura stelleri_ Swains., Orn. Com., Journ. Ac. Nat.
Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 193. _Cyanocitta stelleri_, Newberry, Rep. Pac.
R. R. Surv. VI. pt. IV. 1857, p. 85. T. C&S. L¹: Rh. Ra. Kk. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. E. B. BN.
Mischief and the “Blue Jay” are synonymous. Alert, restless, saucy,
inquisitive, and provoking, yet always interesting, this handsome
brigand keeps his human critics in a perpetual see-saw between wrath and
admiration. As a sprightly piece of Nature, the Steller Jay is an
unqualified success. As the hero-subject of a guessing contest he is
without a peer, for one never knows what he is doing until he has done
it, and none may predict what he will do next.
The pioneers are especially bitter against him, and they are unanimous
in accusing the bird of malicious destructiveness in the gardens, which
are dearer than the apple of the eye during the first years of
wilderness life. The birds will eat anything, and so, tiring of bugs and
slugs, are not averse to trying corn, cabbage leaves, or, best of all,
potatoes. They have observed the tedious operation of the gardener in
planting, and know precisely where the coveted tubers lie. Bright and
early the following morning they slip to the edge of the clearing, post
one of their number as lookout, then silently deploy upon their ghoulish
task. If they weary of potatoes, sprouting peas or corn will do. Or
perhaps there may be something interesting at the base of this young
tomato plant. And when the irate farmer appears upon the scene, the
marauders retire to the forest shrieking with laughter at the
discomfitted swain. Ay! there’s the rub! We may endure injury but not
insult. Bang! Bang!
As a connoisseur of birds’ eggs, too, the Steller Jay enjoys a bad
eminence. The sufferers in this case are chiefly the lesser song birds;
but no eggs whatever are exempt from his covetous glance, if left
unguarded. The Jay has become especially proficient in the discovery and
sacking of Bush-tits’ nests. Mr. D. E. Brown assures me that he has
found as high as fifteen nests of this bird in a single swamp, all
gutted by Jays. When it is remembered that these busy little workers
make one of the handsomest nests in the world, the shame of this piracy
gets upon the nerves. The investigation of Tits’ nests has something of
the fascination of the gaming table for the Jay, since he never knows
what the wonder pouches may contain, until he has ripped a hole in the
side and inserted his piratical beak.
The dense forests of Puget Sound are not so well patrolled by these
feathered grafters as are the forests of the East by the true Blue Jay
(_Cyanocitta cristata_). But then our bird has the advantage of denser
cover, and we do not know how often we have been scrutinized or
shadowed. Upon discovery the Steller Jay sets up a great outcry and
makes off thru the thickets shrieking lustily. A favorite method of
retreat is to flit up into the lower branches of a fir tree and, keeping
close to the trunk, to ascend the succeeding limbs as by a spiral
staircase. The bird, indeed, takes a childish delight in this mad
exercise, and no sooner does he quit one tree-top than he dashes down to
a neighboring tree to run another frenzied gamut.
Owls have abundant cover in western Washington, but should one of them
be startled by day, the Steller blue-coat is the first to note the
villain’s flight. The alarm is sounded and an animated pursuit begins.
When the Owl is brought to bay, the deafening objurgation of the Jays is
not the least indignity which he is made to suffer. The Jay, in fact,
seeks to make the world forget his own offenses by heaping obloquy upon
this blinking sinner.
The notes of the Steller Jay are harsh and expletive to a degree.
_Shaack, shaack, shaack_ is a common (and most exasperating) form; or,
by a little stretch of the imagination one may hear _jay, jay, jay_. A
mellow _klook, klook, klook_ sometimes varies the rasping imprecations
and serves to remind one that the Jay is cousin to the Crow. Other and
minor notes there are for the lesser and rarer emotions, and some of
these not unmusical. Very rarely the bird attempts song, and succeeds in
producing a medley which quite satisfies _her_ that he could if he
would.
_C. stelleri_, like _C. cristata_ again, is something of a mimic. The
notes of the Western Red-tail (_Buteo borealis calurus_) and other hawks
are reproduced with especial fidelity. For such an effort the Jay
conceals himself in the depths of a large-leafed maple or in a fir
thicket, and his sole object appears to be that of terrorizing the
neighboring song-birds. One such I heard holding forth from a shade tree
on the Asylum grounds at Steilacoom. Uncanny sounds are, of course, not
unknown here, but an exploratory pebble served to unmask the cheat, and
drove forth a very much chastened Blue Jay before a company of
applauding Juncoes.
It is well known that the gentleman burglar takes a conscientious pride
in the safety and welfare of his own home. Nothing shall molest _his_
dear ones. The Jay becomes secretive and silent as the time for
nest-building approaches. The nest is well concealed in a dense thicket
of fir saplings, or else set at various heights in the larger fir trees.
If one but looks at it before the complement of eggs is laid the
locality is deserted forthwith. If, however, the enterprise is
irretrievably launched, the birds take care not to be seen in the
vicinity of their nest until they are certain of its discovery, in which
case they call heaven and earth to witness that the man is a monster of
iniquity, and that he is plotting against the innocent.
In our experience, Steller’s Jay is not, as has been sometimes reported,
a bird of the mountains. To be sure, it may be found in the mountain
_valleys_, but if so it is practically confined to them. The bird, is,
however, ubiquitous thruout the lowlying countries of Puget Sound,
Gray’s Harbor, and adjacent regions, giving way only upon the south to
the dubious Grinnell Jay (_S. s. carbonacea_).
No. 10.
GRINNELL’S JAY.
A. O. U. No. 478e. Cyanocitta stelleri carbonacea J. Grinnell.
Synonyms.—“Blue Jay.” Coast Jay (A. O. U.).
Description.—“Similar to _C. s. stelleri_, but paler thruout, and
averaging slightly smaller; color of head very nearly as in _C. s.
stelleri_, but averaging browner or more sooty, the forehead always
conspicuously streaked with blue, and throat more extensively or
uniformly pale grayish; back and foreneck much paler, slaty brown or
brownish slate, instead of deep sooty; blue of rump, upper
tail-coverts, and under parts of body light dull cerulean or verditer
blue, advancing more over chest, where more abruptly defined against
the sooty or brownish slate color of foreneck.” (Ridgway). Adult
males: wing 6.10 (150.5); tail 5.51 (140); bill 1.15 (29.1); tarsus
1.75 (44.5).
General Range.—Pacific Coast district from Monterey county,
California, north to Columbia River.
Range in Washington.—Has only theoretical status in State, but
specimens taken along north banks of Columbia would appear to belong
here.
Authorities.—? _Corvus stelleri_, Nuttall, Man. Orn. U. S. and Can. I.
1832, 229 (“Columbia River”). ? Orn. Com. Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila.
VII. 1837, 193. _C. s. frontalis_, R. H. Lawrence, Auk XVII. Oct.
1892, p. 355 (Gray’s Harbor). _C. s. carbonacea_ Grinnell, Ridgway,
Birds of No. and Mid. Am. Vol. III. p. 354 (footnote). L. Kb.
Ornithology is the furthest refined of the systematic sciences. So
zealous have been her devotees and so sagacious her high priests, that
no shade of difference in size, form or hue of a bird is allowed to pass
unnoticed, or its owner unnamed. It is unquestionably annoying to the
novice to be confronted with such subtleties, and the recognition of
subspecies in the vernacular names of our birds is of doubtful wisdom;
but the fashion is set and we will all be foolish together—so that none
may laugh.
The normal range of Grinnell’s Jay, as defined, extends northward to the
Columbia River; and since the district lying between the Columbia and
Puget Sound presents intergrades between _C. stelleri_ and _C. s.
carbonacea_, obviously, those Jays which inhabit the southern portion of
this debatable ground are better entitled to be called _carbonacea_ than
_stelleri_.
No. 11.
BLACK-HEADED JAY.
A. O. U. No. 478c. Cyanocitta stelleri annectens (Baird).
Synonyms.—“Blue Jay.” Pine Jay. Mountain Jay.
Description.—_Adults_: Similar to _C. stelleri_, but marked with a
small lengthened white spot over eye; streaks on forehead (when
present) paler blue or whitish; streaks on chin and upper throat
whiter and more distinct; blue areas slightly paler and rather more
greenish in tone. Size indistinguishable.
Recognition Marks.—As in _C. stelleri_. White spot over eye
distinctive.
Nesting.—As in _C. stelleri_.
General Range.—Eastern British Columbia and the northern Rocky
Mountains, south to Wahsatch Range in Utah, west to eastern slopes of
Cascade Range in Washington and Oregon.
Range in Washington.—Forests of eastern Washington, shading into
typical _stelleri_ in Cascade Range. Nearly confined to pine timber.
Authorities.—_Cyanocitta stelleri annectens_, Brewster, Bull. Nutt.
Orn. Club, VII., 1882, 229. (C&S.) D¹. D². J.
There is no such difference of plumage between _C. stelleri_ and _C. s.
annectens_ as is suggested by the name “Black-headed”; but in
endeavoring to mark eight shades of difference between tweedledum and
tweedledee within the limits of a single species, we are naturally
pretty hard put to it for appropriate names. _Annectens_ marks the
annexion, or welding together, of two branching lines in the _C.
stelleri_ group. It is the head of the wish-bone, whose divergent arms
run down the Sierras to Lower California and along the Rockies to
Guatemala respectively.
With a hypothetical center of distribution somewhere in southeastern
British Columbia, this subspecies inosculates with _stelleri_ in the
mountains of that province, and is roughly separated from the western
stock by the central ridge of the Cascades, in Washington.
Black-headed Jays in Washington are normally confined to the limits of
coniferous timber, being therefore most abundant in the northern
portion, in the Blue Mountains, and along the eastern slopes of the
Cascades. We have, however, like Bendire, discovered them on occasion
skulking in the willows along creek bottoms some twenty miles from pine
timber. On the other hand, they do not assert, with the Gray Jays and
Clark Crows, the right to range the mountain heights: but are quite
content to maintain their unholy inquisition amidst the groves and
thickets of the valley floors.
They are, perhaps, not so noisy as the Steller Jays, being less
confident of their cover; and their notes are rather more musical
(breath of pines is better than fog for the voice); but for the rest
they are the same vivacious, intrepid, resourceful mischief-makers as
their kin-folk everywhere.
No. 12.
WHITE-HEADED JAY.
A. O. U. No. 484a. Perisoreus canadensis capitalis Ridgw.
Synonyms.—Rocky Mountain Jay. “Canada” Jay. Whiskey Jack. Wisskachon.
Camp Robber. Moose-bird. Meat Hawk. Meat-bird.
Description.—_Adults_: General color plumbeous ash lightening below;
whole head white save space about and behind eye connected with broad
nuchal patch of slaty gray; wings and tail blackish overlaid with
silver gray; tail tipped with white and wings more or less edged with
the same. Bill and feet black; iris brown. _Young birds_ much darker
and more uniform in coloration than adults—slaty gray to sooty slate
with lighter crown and some whitish edging on underparts. Length
12.00-13.00; wing 6.00 (152); tail 5.75 (145); bill .82 (21); tarsus
1.38 (35).
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; slaty gray coloration. White of head
with its abruptly defined patch of slate on hind neck distinctive as
compared with related species of the genus _Perisoreus_.
Nesting.—Has not been reported for Washington but bird undoubtedly
breeds in the Kalispell range. _Nest_: in coniferous tree, a large
compacted mass of the softest and warmest substances,—twigs for a
foundation, then grasses, abundant moss, plant-down and feathers.
_Eggs_: 3-5, usually 4, grayish white, spotted and blotched with brown
having a tinge of purplish. Av. size 1.15 × .85 (29.2 × 21.6).
_Season_: Feb.-April; one brood.
General Range.—Higher ranges of the Rocky Mountain district from
British Columbia to Arizona.
Range in Washington.—Mountains of northeastern corner of State and
(probably) the Blue Mountains.
Authorities.—[“White-headed Jay,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T., 1884
(1885) 22.] Ridgway, Birds of North and Middle America, Vol. III. p.
371, (“Sinzoknoteen Depot, etc.”).
The casual observer, camping first on Calispell Peak in Stevens County,
and later on Mt. Stuart, in southern Chelan County, might fail to note
any difference in the soberly-dressed Jays, who are the self-appointed
overseers of camp economics. For while the birds of the two localities
really represent two species, the resemblance in general appearance and
behavior is so close as to be virtually negligible afield.
[Illustration: _Taken near Spokane._ _Photo by W. H. Wright._
WHITE-HEADED JAY.]
Of this bird in Colorado, Mr. Frank M. Drew has observed[6]: “In autumn
when on his first tour of inspection around the house he hops along in a
curious sidelong manner, just like a school-girl in a slow hurry.
White-headed, grave, and sedate, he seems a very paragon of propriety,
and if you appear to be a suitable personage, he will be apt to give you
a bit of advice. Becoming confidential he sputters out a lot of nonsense
in a manner which causes you to think him a veritable ‘Whisky Jack’;
yet, whenever he is disposed, a more bland,
mind-his-own-business-appearing bird will be hard to find, as will also
be many small articles around camp after one of his visits, for his
whimsical brain has a great fancy for anything which may be valuable to
you, but perfectly useless to him.”
No. 13.
OREGON JAY.
A. O. U. No. 485. Perisoreus obscurus (Ridgway).
Synonyms.—Camp Robber. Meat Bird. Deer Hunter.
Description.—_Adults_: In general upperparts deep brownish gray;
underparts white tinged with brownish; forehead and nasal plumules
most nearly clear white; chin, throat, cheeks, auriculars, and obscure
band around neck white more or less tinged with brownish; crown and
nape sooty brown, nearly black; feathers of back with white shafts
more or less exposed; wings and tail drab gray, the former with
whitish edging on middle and greater coverts and tertials. Bill and
feet black; iris brown. _Young birds_ are nearly uniform sooty brown
lightening below. Length 10.00-11.00; wing 5.30 (135); tail 5.00
(127); bill .71 (18); tarsus 1.30 (33).
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; brownish gray coloration, familiar,
fearless ways. Not certainly distinguishable afield from the next
form.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a bulky compacted structure of twigs, plant-fibers
and tree-moss with warm lining of fine mosses and feathers, placed
well up in fir tree. _Eggs_: 4 or 5, light gray or pale greenish gray
spotted with grayish brown and dull lavender. Av. size 1.04 × .79
(26.4 × .20). _Season_: Feb.-April; one brood.
General Range.—Pacific Coast district from Humboldt county,
California, north to Vancouver Island. Imperfectly made out as regards
following form.
Range in Washington.—Probably the Olympic Mountains and irregularly
thru the heavier forests of southwestern Washington.
Authorities.—_P. canadensis_ Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX.
pt. II. 1858, 591 part. Ridgway, Bull. Essex Inst. V. Nov. 1873, 194.
(T) C&S. L¹. Rh. Ra. B. E(?).
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. E. C.
The relative distribution of the Oregon Jay and the more recently
distinguished Gray Jay is still very imperfectly understood. It would
appear probable that this form is the bird of the rainy district,
including all lowlands of western Washington, the Olympic Mountains, and
the western slopes of the Cascades, and that it gives place to _P. o.
griseus_ not only upon the heights and eastern slopes of the Cascades,
but in the deep valleys which penetrate these mountains from the west.
Certainly it is the Oregon Jay which abounds in the Olympic Mountains,
and among the dense spruce forests of the adjoining coasts. While the
bird is more abundant on the lowlands in winter, the prevalent opinion
that the Oregon Jay is exclusively a bird of the mountains is probably
incorrect. Altho bold enough where undisturbed, the birds soon learn
caution; and their nests have been found near Renton where their
presence during the breeding season would otherwise have gone
unsuspected. The depths of the forest have no terrors for this quiet
ghost, and there are other reasons besides color why he remains _the
obscure one_.
No. 14.
GRAY JAY.
A. O. U. No. 485a. Perisoreus obscurus griseus Ridgw.
Synonyms.—Camp Robber, etc.
Description.—“Similar to _P. o. obscurus_, but decidedly larger
(except feet), and coloration much grayer; back, etc., deep mouse
gray, instead of brown, remiges and tail between gray (No. 6) and
smoke gray, instead of drab gray, and under parts grayish white
instead of brownish white.” (Ridgway). Length (Av. of three Glacier
specimens) 11.16 (283.5); wing 5.82 (147.6); tail 5.48 (139.1); bill
.75 (19); tarsus 1.25 (31.7).
General Range.—Central mountain ranges of central California, Oregon,
Washington, and British Columbia.
Range in Washington.—Thruout the Cascade Mountains and irregularly
along their lower slopes west (?) to tidewater.
Authorities.—? _P. canadensis_ Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.,
Vol. IX, pt. II, 1858, p. 591 (Cascade Mts. W. T.). Ridgway, Auk, Vol.
XVI., July, 1899, 225. Kk. ?
The “Camp-Robber” appears promptly as interested neighbor and
smell-feast before all who invade the precincts of the mountains. The
hunter, the trapper, the prospector, the timber cruiser, the mere
camper-out, all know him, and they speak well or ill of him according to
their kind. The Gray Jay appears to have forsworn the craftiness of his
race, and he wins by an exhibition of artless simplicity, rather than by
wiles. The bird is mildly curious and hungry—oh, very hungry—but this is
Arcadia, and the shepherds draw nigh with never a doubt of their
welcome. There is a childlike insouciance about the way in which the
bird annexes a piece of frizzled bacon, humbly intended for the man.
“’Shoo,’ did you say? Why, what do you mean? Can’t I have it?” And the
bird retires before a flying chip, baffled and injured by such a
manifest token of ill-breeding. He complains mildly to his fellows. They
discuss the question in gentle _whews_; generously conclude you didn’t
mean it, and return unabashed to the quest.
Hunger is the chief characteristic of these docile birds, and no
potential food is refused, nuts, acorns, insects, berries, or even, as a
last resort, the buds of trees. Meat of any sort has an especial
attraction to them; and they are the despair of the trapper because of
their propensity for stealing bait. The hunter knows them for arch
sycophants, and he is occasionally able to trace a wounded deer, or to
locate a carcass by the movements of these expectant heirs. Says Mr. A.
W. Anthony[7]: “While dressing deer in the thick timber I have been
almost covered with Jays flying down from the neighboring trees. They
would settle on my back, head, or shoulders, tugging and pulling at each
loose shred of my coat until one would think that their only object was
to help me in all ways possible.”
In the higher latitudes “Whisky Jack,” in spite of carefully secreted
stores, often becomes very emaciated in winter, a mere bunch of bones
and feathers, no heavier than a Redpoll. While the jays of our kindlier
clime do not feel so keenly the belly pinch of winter, they have the
same thrifty habits as their northern kinfolk. Food is never refused,
and a well-stuffed specimen will still carry grub from camp and secrete
it in bark-crevice or hollow, against the unknown hour of need.
[Illustration: _Taken in Rainier National Park._ _Photo by J. H.
Bowles._
A BACHELOR’S PET.]
I have never heard the Gray Jay titter more than a soft cooing _whee ew_
repeated at random; but Bendire credits it with a near approach to
song[8]; and Mrs. Bailey says of the Jays on Mt. Hood[9]: “Their notes
were pleasantly varied. One call was remarkably like the chirp of a
robin. Another of the commonest was a weak and rather complaining cry
repeated several times. A sharply contrasting one was a pure clear
whistle of one note followed by a three-syllabled call something like
_Ka-wé-ah_. The regular rallying cry was still different, a loud and
striking two-syllabled _ka-whee_.”
The eggs of the Gray Jay have not yet been reported from this State, but
it is known that the bird builds a very substantial nest of twigs,
grasses, plant fibre, and mosses without mud, and that it provides a
heavy lining of soft gray mosses for the eggs. The nest is usually well
concealed in a fir tree, and may be placed at any height from ten or
fifteen feet upward, altho usually at sixty or eighty feet. Only one
brood is reared in a season, and family groups hunt together until late
in the summer.
_Icteridæ_—The Troupials
No. 15.
COWBIRD.
A. O. U. No. 495. Molothrus ater (Bodd.).
Synonyms.—Cow Blackbird. Cuckold.
Description.—_Adult male_: Head and neck wood-, seal-, or coffee-brown
(variable); remaining plumage black with metallic greenish or bluish
iridescence. _Female_: Dark grayish brown, showing slight greenish
reflections, darkest on wings and tail, lightening on breast and
throat. _Young in first plumage_: Like female but lighter below and
more or less streaky; above somewhat mottled by buffy edgings of
feathers. The young males present a striking appearance when they are
assuming the adult black, on the installment plan, by chunks and
blotches. Length 7.50-8.00 (190.5-203.2); wing 4.40 (111.8); tail
3.00-3.40 (76.2-86.4); bill .65 (16.5); tarsus .95-1.10 (24.1-27.9).
Female, length, wing, and tail one-half inch less.
Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; brown head and black body of male;
brown of female.
Nesting.—The Cowbird invariably deposits her eggs in the nests of
other birds. _Eggs_: 1 or 2, rarely 3 or 4, with a single hostess,
white, often faintly tinged with bluish or greenish, evenly speckled
with cinnamon, brown or umber. Av. size, .85 × .65 (21.6 × 16.5), but
quite variable. _Season_: April-June.
General Range.—United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific, north
into southern British America, south in winter, into Mexico.
Range in Washington.—Of limited but regular occurrence east of the
Cascades, increasing; rare or casual in western Washington. Summer
resident.
Authorities.—Bendire, Life Histories of N. A. Birds, Vol. II., p. 434.
D¹. D². Ss². J. B. E.
Specimens.—C. P.
While I was chatting with my host at milking time (at the head of Lake
Chelan in the ante-tourist days), a dun-colored bird with light
underparts flew down into the corral, and began foraging as tho to the
manor born. One by one the cows sniffed at the stranger and nosed it
about, following it up curiously. But the bird only side-stepped or
walked unconcernedly ahead. When I returned with the gun, a moment
later, I found a calf investigating the newcomer, and it was difficult
to separate the creature from bossikin’s nose. The date was August 3rd;
the bird proved to be a young male Cowbird in the lightest juvenile
phase of plumage, a waif cuckold far from any of his kin, but shifting
for himself with the nonchalance which characterizes his worthless kind.
If our hero had lived (and I make no apology for his demise in the first
act), he would have exchanged his inconspicuous livery for the rich,
iridescent black of the adult; and he would have done this on the
installment plan, by chunks and blotches, looking the while like a
ragpicker, tricked out in cast-off finery.
In the month of March Cowbirds mingle more or less with other blackbirds
in the migrations, but if the main flock halts for refreshments and
discussion _en route_, a group of these rowdies will hunt up some
disreputable female of their own kind, and make tipsy and insulting
advances to her along some horizontal limb or fence rail. Taking a
position about a foot away from the coy drab, the male will make two or
three accelerating hops toward her, then stop suddenly, allowing the
impulse of motion to tilt him violently forward and throw his tail up
perpendicularly, while at the same moment he spews out the disgusting
notes which voice his passion.
Of the mating, Chapman says: “They build no nest, and the females,
lacking every moral instinct, leave their companions only long enough to
deposit their eggs in the nests of other and smaller birds. I can
imagine no sight more strongly suggestive of a thoroly despicable nature
than a female Cowbird sneaking thru the trees and bushes in search of a
victim upon whom to shift the duties of motherhood.”
The egg, thus surreptitiously placed in another bird’s nest, usually
hatches two or three days before those of the foster mother, and the
infant Cowbird thus gains an advantage which he is not slow to improve.
His loud clamoring for food often drives the old birds to abandon the
task of incubation; or if the other eggs are allowed to remain until
hatched, the uncouth stranger manages to usurp attention and food
supplies, and not infrequently to override or stifle the other occupants
of the nest, so that their dead bodies are by-and-by removed to make
room for his hogship. It is asserted by some that in the absence of the
foster parents the young thug forcibly ejects the rightful heirs from
the nest, after the fashion of the Old World Cuckoos. I once found a
nest which contained only a lusty Cowbird, while three proper
fledgelings clung to the shrubbery below, and one lay dead upon the
ground.
When the misplaced tenderness of foster parents has done its utmost for
the young upstart, he joins himself to some precious crew of his own
blood, and the cycle of a changeling is complete.
While not common anywhere west of the Rockies, the Cowbird is no longer
rare east of the Cascades, and it is making its appearance at various
points on Puget Sound. The earlier writers make no mention of its
occurrence in Washington, and it seems probable that its presence has
followed tardily upon the introduction of cattle. Bendire was the first
to report it from this State, having taken an egg near Palouse Falls on
June 18, 1878, from a nest of the Slate-colored Sparrow (_Passerella
iliaca schistacea_).
Its presence among us is, doubtless, often overlooked because of the
superficial resemblance which it bears in note and appearance to
Brewer’s Blackbird (_Euphagus cyanocephalus_). The note of the former is
distinctive,—a shrill, hissing squeak in two tones with an interval of a
descending third, uttered with great effort and apparent
nausea—honestly, a disgusting sound.
No. 16.
BREWER’S BLACKBIRD.
A. O. U. No. 510. Euphagus cyanocephalus (Wagler).
Description.—_Adult male_: Glossy black with steel blue and violet
reflections on head, with fainter greenish or bronzy reflections
elsewhere; bill and feet black; iris pale lemon yellow or light cream.
_Adult female_: Head and neck all around deep brownish gray with
violet reflections; underparts brownish slate to blackish with faint
greenish iridescence; upperparts blackish, or outright black on wings
and tail, which are glossed with bluish-green; bill and feet as in
male, but iris brown. _Immature males in first winter plumage_
resemble adults but have some edging of pale grayish brown. Length of
adult males: 10.00 (254); wing 5.00 (128); tail 3.90 (99); bill .89
(22.6); tarsus 1.27 (32.3). Adult female: length 9.25 (235); wing 4.60
(117); tail 3.50 (89); bill .79 (20); tarsus 1.20 (30.5).
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; pure black coloration and whitish eye
of male. Larger than Cowbird (_Molothrus ater_) with which alone it is
likely to be confused.
Nesting.—_Nest_: placed at moderate height in bush clump or thicket,
less frequently on ground at base of bush, more rarely in cranny of
cliff or cavity of decayed tree-trunk, a sturdy, tidy structure of
interlaced grasses, strengthened by a matrix of mud or dried cow-dung
and carefully lined with coiled rootlets or horsehair. Nests in
straggling colonies. _Eggs_: 4-7, usually 5 or 6, presenting two
divergent types of coloration with endless variations and intermediate
phases. _Light type_: ground color light gray or greenish gray,
spotted and blotched with brown of varying shades, walnut, russet, and
sepia. (In some examples there is purplish brown scrawling, which
suggests the Redwing type. One egg in the writer’s collection is
indistinguishable from that of a Cowbird, save for size.) _Dark type_:
ground color completely obscured by overlay of fine brown dots
resulting in nearly uniform shade of mummy brown or Vandyke brown. Av.
size 1.03 × .72 (26.2 × 18.3). _Season_: April 20-May 10; one or two
broods.
General Range.—Western North America from the plains to the Pacific,
and from the Saskatchewan region south to the highlands of Mexico to
Oaxaca.
Range in Washington.—Of general distribution thruout the State but
found chiefly in more open situations in vicinity of streams and ponds
and in cultivated sections. Normally migratory but increasingly
resident especially on West-side.
Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814) Ed. Biddle: Coues,
Vol. II. p. 185.] _Scolecophagus mexicanus_, Newberry, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. VI. pt. IV. 1857, p. 86. (T) C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss².
Kk. J. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. B. E. P.
“Blackbirds” are not usually highly esteemed in the East, where the
memory of devastated cornfields keeps the wrath of the farmer warm; but
if all species were as inoffensive as this confiding pensioner of the
West, prejudice would soon vanish. He is a handsome fellow, our
Washington grackle, sleek, vivacious, interesting, and serviceable
withal. We know him best, perhaps, as an industrious gleaner of
pastures, corrals, streets, and “made” lands. He is not only the
farmer’s “hired man,” waging increasing warfare against insect life,
especially in its noxious larval forms, but he has an accepted place in
the economy of city and village as well.
[Illustration: _Taken in Douglas County._ _Photo by the Author._
BREWER’S BLACKBIRDS.]
As one approaches a feeding flock, he notes the eagerness with which the
birds run forward, or rise and flit past their fellows, now diving at a
nimble weevil, now leaping to catch a passing bug, but always pushing on
until one perceives a curious rolling effect in the total movement.
As we draw near, some timid individual takes alarm, and instantly all
are up, to alight again upon the fence or shrubbery where they clack and
whistle, not so much by way of apprehension as thru sheer exuberance of
nervous force. As we pass (we must not stop short, for they resent
express attention) we note the droll white eyes of the males, as they
twist and perk and chirp in friendly impudence; and the snuffy brown
heads of the females with their soft hazel irides, as they give a
motherly fluff of the feathers, or yawn with impatience over the
interrupted meal. When we are fairly by, the most venturesome dives from
his perch, and the rest follow by twos and tens, till the ground is
again covered by a shifting, chattering band.
Like all Blackbirds, the Brewers are gregarious; but they are somewhat
more independent than most, flocks of one or two score being more
frequent than those of a hundred. During migrations and in autumnal
flocking they associate more or less with Redwings; but, altho they are
devoted to the vicinity of water, they care nothing for the fastnesses
of reed and rush, which are the delight of Redwing and Yellowhead. Their
preference is for more open situations, so that they are most abundant
upon the East-side. Here a typical breeding haunt is a strip of willows
fringing a swamp; or, better still, a line of dark green thorn-bushes
clinging to the bank of the rolling Columbia.
Altho isolated nests may now and then be found, colonies are the rule;
and I have found as high as forty nests in a single patch of greenery.
There is room, of course, for individual choice of nesting sites, but
the community choice is the more striking. Thus, one recalls the
greasewood nesting, the rose-briar nesting, the thorn-bush nesting,
where all the members of the colony conformed to the locally established
rule in nest position. Mr. Bowles records the most remarkable instance
of this: One season the nests of the South Tacoma colony were all placed
in small bushes, the highest not over four feet from the ground; but in
the season following the birds were all found nesting in cavities near
the top of some giant fir stubs, none of them less than 150 feet from
the ground. On the other hand, in the Usk nesting of 1906, on the placid
banks of the Pend d’Oreille, one pair had recessed its nest in a stump
at a height of eighteen feet, while three other pairs had sunk theirs
into the ground at the base of bushes.
In construction the nest of the Brewer Blackbird varies considerably,
but at its best it is quite a handsome affair. Composed externally of
twigs, weed-stalks, and grasses, its characteristic feature is an
interior mould, or matrix, of dried cow-dung or mud, which gives form
and stability to the whole. The lining almost invariably includes fine
brown rootlets, but horsehair is also welcomed wherever available.
The eggs of Brewer’s Blackbird are the admiration of oölogists. Ranging
in color from clear greenish gray with scattered markings thru denser
patterns to nearly uniform umber and chocolate, they are the natural
favorites of “series” hunters. The range of variation is, indeed,
curious, but it proves to be entirely individual and casual without
trace of local or constant differences. Eggs from the same nest are
usually uniform in coloration, but even here there is notable diversity.
In some instances, after three or four eggs are laid, the pigment gives
out, and the remainder of the set is lighter colored. Again, single eggs
are heavily pigmented half way, and finished with a clear green
ground-color.
Fresh eggs may be taken in the Yakima country during the last week in
April, and in one case noted, deposition began on April 14th; but May
1st-15th is the usual rule there and elsewhere. Five eggs is the common
set, but six to a clutch is not rare. Of twenty-eight nests examined in
Yakima County, May 4, 1906, eleven contained six eggs each; while, of
something over two hundred seen altogether, two nests contained seven
each.
[Illustration: _Taken in Stevens County._ _Photo by the Author._
GROUND NEST OF BREWER BLACKBIRD.]
It is in his notes that the Brewer Blackbird betrays his affinities best
of all. The melodiously squeaking chatter of mating time is, of course,
most like that of the Rusty Blackbird (_S. carolinus_), but it lacks the
bubbling character. He has then the swelling note of the Grackles
proper, _fff-weet_, the latter part rendered with something of a trill,
the former merely as an aspirate; and the whole accompanied by expansion
of body, slight lifting of wings, and partial spreading of tail. This
note is uttered not only during the courting season, but on the occasion
of excitement of any kind. _Kooreé_ has a fine metallic quality which
promptly links it to the _Keyring_ note of the Redwing. _Chup_ is the
ordinary note of distrust and alarm, or of stern inquiry, as when the
bird-man is caught fingering the forbidden ovals. A harsh low rattle, or
rolling note, is also used when the birds are squabbling among
themselves, or fighting for position.
Unquestionably this species has gradually extended its range within the
borders of the State, for the earlier investigators did not regard it as
resident on Puget Sound. It has profited greatly and deservedly by the
spread of settlement everywhere, and this is especially true of the more
open situations. Not a little it owes, also, to the introduction of
cattle; for it is as great a rustler about corrals and stamping grounds
as its renegade cousin, the Cowbird.
No. 17.
BULLOCK’S ORIOLE.
A. O. U. No. 508. Icterus bullockii (Swainson).
Description.—_Adult male_: Black, white, and orange; bill, lore, a
line thru eye, and throat (narrowly) jet black; pileum, back,
scapulars, lesser wing-coverts, primary coverts, and tertials chiefly
black, or with a little yellowish skirting; remiges black edged with
white; middle and greater coverts continuous with edging of tertials
and secondaries, white, forming a large patch; tail chiefly yellow but
central pair of rectrices black terminally, and remaining pairs tipped
with blackish; remaining plumage, including supraloral areas
continuous with superciliaries, orange yellow, most intense on sides
of throat and chest, shading thru cadmium on breast to chrome on rump,
tail-coverts, etc. In _young adults_ the orange is less intense and,
encroaches upon the black of forehead, hind-neck, etc., altho the tail
is more extensively black. _Adult female_: Above drab-gray, clearest
on rump and upper tail-coverts; wings fuscous with whitish edging;
pattern of white in coverts of male retained but much reduced in area;
tail nearly uniform dusky chrome; underparts in general sordid white;
chin and lores white; forehead, superciliary, (indistinct), cheeks,
hind-neck and chest more or less tinged with chrome yellow. _Young
males_ resemble the female but soon gain in intensity of yellow on the
foreparts, gradually acquiring adult black along median line of throat
and in streaks on pileum. Length of adult male about 8.25 (209.5);
wing 3.89 (99); tail 3.07 (78); bill .73 (18.5); tarsus .98 (25).
Female a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; black, white, and orange of male
distinctive; slender blackish bill of female strongly contrasting with
the heavy light-colored bill of female Western Tanager with which
alone it is likely to be confused by the novice. General coloration of
female ashy or drab rather than olivaceous, yellow of tail contrasting
with whitish or light drab of tail-coverts.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a pouch of cunningly interwoven grasses, vegetable
fibers, string, etc., 5 to 9 inches deep and lashed by brim to
branches of deciduous tree. _Eggs_: usually 5, smoky white as to
ground color, sometimes tinged with pale blue, more rarely with faint
claret, spotted, streaked and elaborately scrawled with purplish black
or dark sepia, chiefly about larger end. Elongate ovate; av. size .94
× .63 (23.9 × 16). _Season_: May 20-June 15; one brood.
General Range.—Western United States, southern British Provinces and
plateau of Mexico; breeding north to southern British Columbia,
Alberta and southern Assiniboia east to eastern border of Great Plains
in South Dakota, Nebraska, etc., south to northern Mexico; in winter
south to central Mexico.
Range in Washington.—Regular summer resident in eastern Washington
thruout settled sections and along water courses; rare or casual west
of Cascades.
Migrations.—_Spring_: Yakima County, May 2, 1900; Moses Lake, May 15,
1906; Chelan, May 21, 1896.
Authorities.—_Icterus bullockii_ Bon., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.
IX. pt. II. 1858, p. 550. T. C&S. D¹. D². Ss¹. Ss². J. B.
Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. C. P¹.
Bird of sunshine and good cheer, springtime’s ripest offering and emblem
of summer achieved, is this happy-hearted creature who flits about the
orchards and timber cultures of eastern Washington. The willows of the
brook, the cottonwoods and the quaking asps, were his necessary home
until the hand of the pioneer made ready the locust, the maple and the
Lombardy poplars, which are now his favorite abiding places. And so, for
many years, the droning of bees, the heavy-scented breath of the acacia,
and the high, clear whistling of the Oriole have been associated
memories.
[Illustration: BULLOCK’S ORIOLE.]
A little less dandified than his eastern cousin, the lordly Bird of
Baltimore, the Bullock Oriole fulfills much the same economy in habit,
song, and nesting as that well-known bird. He is, if anything, a little
less musical, also, and not so conspicuous.
The males arrive a week or two in advance of their mates, and appear
quite ill at ease until joined by their shy companions. Marriage
compacts have to be settled at the beginning of the season, but rivalry
is chiefly between the under-colored young blades who must make their
peace with the sweet girl graduates of the previous year. Orioles are
very closely attached to a suitable locality, once chosen, and a group
of nests in a single tree presenting successive annual stages of
preservation, is fairly eloquent of conjugal fidelity.
[Illustration: _Taken near Spokane._ _Photo by F. S. Merrill._
FEMALE BULLOCK ORIOLE.]
The purse-shaped nest of the Bullock Oriole is a marvel of industry and
skill, fully equal in these respects to that of the Baltimore Bird. A
specimen before me, from a small willow on Crab Creek, in Lincoln
County, taken just after its completion, is composed entirely of
vegetable fibers, the frayed inner bark of dead willows being chiefly in
evidence, while plant-downs of willow, poplar, and clematis are felted
into the interstices of the lower portion. This pouch is lashed at the
brim by a hundred tiny cables to the sustaining twigs, and hangs to a
depth of six inches, with a mean diameter of nearly three, yet so
delicate are the materials and so fine the workmanship, that the whole
structure weighs less than half an ounce.
A more bulky, loose-meshed affair, taken at Brook Lake No. 4, in Douglas
County, has a maximum depth of nine inches outside, a mean depth of six
and a half inches inside, and a greater diameter of five inches.
Near farm houses or in town the birds soon learn the value of string,
thread, frayed rope, and other waste materials, and nests are made
entirely of these less romantic substances. Occasionally a bird becomes
entangled in the coils of a refractory piece of string or horse-hair,
and tragedies of Orioles hanged at their own doorstep are of record.
The eggs of this species, four to six in number, are usually of a pale
smoky gray color, and upon this ground appear curious and intricate
scrawlings of purplish black, as tho made by a fine pen, held unsteadily
while the egg was twirled. The purpose of this bizarre ornamentation, if
indeed it has any, may be thought to appear where scanty coils of black
horse-hair in the lining of the nest show up in high relief against the
normal white background of vegetable felt. I can testify that under
these circumstances the eggs are sometimes indistinguishable at first
glance from their surroundings.
[Illustration: _Taken in Douglas County._ _Photo by the Author._
NESTING SITE OF THE BULLOCK ORIOLE.]
The value of the pouch-shaped nest is less clear than in the case of the
Baltimore Oriole, whose home is the pendant branch of the elm tree; for
the nest of the Bullock Oriole is often attached to stocky branches,
pines even, which yield little in the wind. Nor is there any such
obvious attempt in the case of this bird to escape enemies by placing
the eggs out of reach. The Magpie would search Sheol for a maggot, and
any effort to best him would bankrupt the longest purse.
[Illustration: BULLOCK ORIOLES
MALE AND FEMALE, ½ LIFE SIZE
From a Water-color Painting by Allan Brooks]