Tired of the confinement of the nest, the ambitious fledgelings clamber

up the sides and perch upon the brim. From this less secure position

they are not infrequently dislodged before they are quite ready to face

the world. Some years ago a friend of mine, Mr. Chas. W. Robinson, of

Chelan, secured a fledgeling Oriole which he rescued from the water of

the lake where it had evidently just fallen from an overhanging nest.

When taken home it proved a ready pet, and was given the freedom of the

place. Some two weeks later my friend rescued a nestling from another

brood under precisely similar circumstances, and put it in a cage with

the older bird. The newcomer had not yet learned to feed himself, but

only opened his mouth and called with childish insistence. Judge of the

owner’s delight, and mine as a witness, when the older bird, himself

little more than a fledgeling, began to feed the orphan with all the

tender solicitude of a parent. It was irresistibly cunning and heartsome

too, for the bird to select with thoughtful, brotherly kindness, a

morsel of food, and hop over toward the clamoring stranger and drop it

into his mouth; after this to stand back as if to say, “There, baby! how

did you like that?” This trait was not shown by a chance exhibition

alone, but became a regular habit, which was still followed when the

older bird had attained to fly-catching. It upset all one’s notions

about instinct, and made one think of a golden rule for birds.

No. 18.

CALIFORNIAN BICOLORED BLACKBIRD.

A. O. U. No. 499. Agelaius gubernator californicus Nelson.

Description.—_Adult male_: “Uniform deep black, with a faint bluish

green gloss in certain lights; lesser wing-coverts rich poppy red or

vermilion; middle coverts black, or (if not entirely black) at least

broadly tipped with black, the basal portion tawny buff or ochraceous;

bill, legs, and feet black; iris brown” (Ridgway). _Adult female in

breeding plumage_: Dark sooty brown more or less streaked on crown and

back; chin and throat whitish or pinkish buff streaked with brown;

faint superciliary stripe composed of narrow whitish streaks on sooty

ground. _Adult female in winter_: Feathers more or less edged with

rusty. _Immature male_: Lesser wing-coverts partly black, the

remaining red not clear, ochraceous-rufous or orange-tawny. Length of

adult male: (skins) 8.62 (219); wing 5.78 (136.9); tail 3.67 (93.2);

bill .84 (21.3); tarsus 1.28 (32.5). Adult female 6.93 (176); wing

4.27 (108.5); tail 2.82 (71.6); bill .72 (18.3); tarsus 1.10 (27.9).

Recognition Marks.—Like Redwing Blackbird but epaulets pure red

without exposed buff.

Nesting.—_Nest_ and _Eggs_ like those of the Northwestern Red-wing.

Said to be less prolific.

General Range.—Central and northern coast districts of California

north to Washington; straggles irregularly eastward and southward in

California in winter.

Range in Washington.—Recorded breeding at Cape Disappointment and may

possibly extend north to Gray’s Harbor.

Authorities.—_Agelaius gubernator_ Bonaparte, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.

Surv. IX. 1858, p. 530 (Columbia River by J. K. Townsend). Allen, B.

N. O. C. VI. p. 128. R. H. Lawrence, Auk IX. 1892, 45. Kobbé.

We accept this bird as a resident of this State chiefly on the testimony

of William H. Kobbé, who listed it[10] as a breeding bird of Cape

Disappointment. He found it closely associated with the Northwestern

Red-wing (_A. phœniceus caurinus_) altho the latter frequently pursued

it in the attempt to expel it from the small swamp which both were

compelled to occupy. This probably represents the northernmost extension

of this species, the Gray’s Harbor record of Mr. Lawrence[11] being at

least open to question in the matter of identification.

The habits of the Bicolored Blackbird do not differ in any known

particular from those of the familiar Red-wing, of which it is a

discontinuous offshoot.

No. 19.

COLUMBIAN RED-WING.

A. O. U. No. 498. Agelaius phœniceus neutralis Ridgway.

Synonyms.—San Diego Red-wing. Interior Red-wing. Red-winged Blackbird.

Red-shouldered Blackbird. Swamp Blackbird.

Description.—_Adult male in summer_: Glossy black; lesser wing-coverts

bright red (poppy-red, vermilion or scarlet); middle coverts buffy or

ochraceous-buff—the two forming thus a conspicuous epaulet, or

shoulder patch. Bill, legs, and feet horn black; irides brown. _Adult

male in winter_: Middle wing-coverts more deeply buffy; scapulars and

feathers of black more or less edged with rusty. In _immature males_

the black of the plumage is more or less extensively margined with

rusty-buffy or whitish; the wing-coverts have an admixture of black

and the “red” of the lesser coverts is of a sickly hue (orange-tawny,

etc.). _Adult female in summer_: Brownish gray, everywhere mottled and

streaked, or striped, with dusky, finely on chin, cheeks, and

superciliaries, where also more or less rubescent, heavily below, less

distinctly above; lesser coverts brownish-gray or dull red; middle

coverts black edged with buffy. Bill dusky lightening below; feet and

legs dusky. _Adult female in winter_: Plumage of upperparts more or

less margined with rusty or ochraceous; sides of head and underparts

tinged with buffy. Length of adult males (skins): 8.39 (213.1); wing

4.84 (122.9); tail 3.57 (90.7); bill .90 (23.1); tarsus 1.19 (30.2).

Adult females (skins): 7.11 (181.9); wing 3.98 (101.3); tail 2.85

(72.4); bill .77 (19.6); tarsus 1.06 (26.9).

Recognition Marks.—Chewink to Robin size; bright red epaulets of male;

general streakiness of female. Female lighter-colored and not so

heavily streaked as in _A. p. caurinus_.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a neatly woven but rather bulky basket of grasses,

cat-tail leaves or hemp, usually lashed to upright stalks of cat-tail,

occasionally on bushes, as willow and the like; lining of fine grasses

of uniform size. _Eggs_: 4-7, usually 4, light blue to dull grayish

blue, scrawled, blotched or clouded with dark purple, purplish brown

or black, chiefly about the large end. Av. size 1.04 × .70 (26.4 ×

17.8). _Season_: last week in April, June; two broods.

General Range.—Western United States in the interior north to eastern

British Columbia, restricted by Rocky Mountains and Cascades in

northern portion of range but reaching coast in San Diego and Los

Angeles Counties in California and breeding as far east as western

Texas, southward to northern Chihuahua and northern Lower California;

displaced in Lower Colorado Valley and southern Arizona by _A. p.

sonoriensis_; south in winter to southern Texas, etc.

Range in Washington.—Found in all suitable localities east of the

Cascades.

Migrations.—Irregularly resident but numbers always greatly augmented

about March 1st.

Authorities.—_Agelaius phœniceus_ Vieil., Cooper and Suckley, Rep.

Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II. 1860, 207. Allen, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club,

VI. 1881, 128. D¹. D². Ss¹. Ss². J.

Specimens.—U. of W. C. P.

A meadowlark may pipe from a sunny pasture slope in early February, and

a Merrill Song Sparrow may rehearse his cheerful message in midwinter,

but it takes the chorus of returning Blackbirds to bring boisterous

tidings of awakening spring. What a world of jubilation there is in

their voluble whistlings and chirpings and gurglings, a wild medley of

March which strikes terror to the faltering heart of winter. A sudden

hush falls upon the company as the bird-man draws near the tree in which

they are swarming; but a dusky maiden pouts, “Who cares?” and they all

fall to again, hammer and tongs, timbrel, pipes, and hautboy. Brewer’s

Blackbirds and Cowbirds occasionally make common cause with Red-wings in

the northern migrations, but it is always the last-named who

preponderate, and it is they who are most vivacious, most resplendent,

and most nearly musical. The Red-wing’s mellow _kongqueree_ or

occasional tipsy _whoop-er-way-up_ is the life of the party.

Almost before we know it our friends, to the number of a dozen pairs or

more, have taken up their residence in a cat-tail swamp—nowhere else, if

you please, unless driven to it—and here, about the third week in April,

a dozen baskets of matchless weave are swung, or lodged midway of the

growing plants. Your distant approach is commented upon from the tops of

bordering willows by _keyrings_ and other notes. At close range the

lordly male, he of the brilliant epaulets and the proper military

swagger, shakes out his fine clothes and says, _Kongqueree_, in a voice

wherein anxiety is quite outweighed by vanity and proffered

good-fellowship withal. But if you push roughly thru the outlying

sedges, anxiety obtains the mastery. There is a hubbub in the marsh.

Bustling, frowsy females appear and scold you roundly. The lazy gallants

are all fathers now, and they join direful threats to courteous

expostulations, as they flutter wildly around the intruder’s head. To

the mischievous boy the chance of calling out these frantic attentions

is very alluring, even when no harm is intended.

I have said that the Red-wing prefers cat-tails for nesting; there is

probably no undisturbed area of cat-tails in eastern Washington which

does not harbor Columbian Red-wings; yet, even so, the cover does not

suffice and they are impelled to occupy the extensive tulé beds which

border the larger lakes. For the second nesting, which occurs in June,

the Blackbirds are likely to try the willows, now covered with foliage;

or, in default of these, may venture into any coarse vegetation which

lines the swamp.

[Illustration: _Taken near Spokane._ _Photo by F. S. Merrill._

NEST AND EGGS OF THE COLUMBIAN REDWING.]

Four or five eggs are commonly laid and sets of six are very rare. On

the 18th of May, 1896, I took a set of eight eggs, all believed to be

the product of one female, from a nest in Okanogan County, and this set

is now in the Oberlin College Museum.

Of the economic value of the Red-wing there can be no question. The bird

is chiefly insectivorous and destroys an immense amount of insect life,

particularly in the larval state, injurious to vegetation. Its single

fault is a weakness for young corn, but as corn is not a staple crop in

Washington, this fault may be readily condoned in view of the bird’s

valuable services to stockman and orchardist.

No. 20.

NORTHWESTERN RED-WING.

A. O. U. No. 498f. Agelaius phœniceus caurinus Ridgway.

Synonyms.—Red-winged Blackbird. Red-shouldered Blackbird. Marsh

Blackbird. Swamp Blackbird.

Description.—Similar to _A. p. neutralis_ but female much darker,

heavily streaked with black below; in winter feather skirtings of

female more extensively rusty. Measurements not essentially different.

Recognition Marks.—As in preceding. Female darker and more heavily

streaked than in _A. p. neutralis_.

Nesting.—_Nest_: as in preceding; dimensions 5 in. wide by 6 in. deep

outside, 3 × 3 inside. _Eggs_: 3 or 4, rarely 5, colored as before;

dimensions varying from 1.05 × .76 (26.6 × 19.3) to 1.00 × .66 (25.4 ×

16.7). _Season_: second to last week in April, June (Tacoma, April 6,

1906, 3 eggs); two broods.

General Range.—Northwest coast district from northern California north

to British Columbia on Vancouver Island and mainland.

Range in Washington.—Common in suitable localities west of the

Cascades. Irregularly resident.

Authorities.—_Agelaius phœniceus_ Vieil, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.

IX. 1858, 528. T. C&S. Rh. Kb. Ra. Kk. B. E.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. B. E.

The bird-man was sitting Turk-fashion on a great mossy log which ran far

out into the rustling depths of the South Tacoma swamp. The April sun

flooded the scene with warm light and made one blink like a blissful

drowsy frog, while the marsh sent up a grateful incense of curling

vapor. A pocket lunch of bread and cheese was the ostensible occasion of

this noontide bliss, but victuals had small charms beside those of the

sputtering Tulé Wrens who played hide and seek among the stems, or the

dun Coots, who sowed their _pulque pulque pulque_ notes along the reedy

depths.

Upon this scene of marshy content burst a vision of Phœnician splendor,

Caurinus I., the military satrap of South Tacoma, the authentic tyee of

Blackbirds. He was a well-aged bird, and as is the proper way with

feathered folk, resplendent in proportion to his years. His epaulets

seemed a half larger again than others, and their scarlet was of the

brightest hue, contrasting with a black mantle which fairly shone. He

appeared an amiable old fellow, and as he lighted ponderously on an

uplifted branch of my tree, he remarked, “_Whoo-kuswee-ung_,” so

hospitably that I felt impelled to murmur, “Thanks,” and assured him of

my unhostile intent. “_Conqueree?_” he questioned, richly. “Er—well,

yes, if you are the conqueror.”

But the general had other interests to watch. An upstart male of the

second year with shoulder-straps of a sickly orange hue, was descried a

rod away climbing hand-over-hand up a cat-tail stem. _Keyring, keyring_,

the despot warned him; and because the presumptuous youth did not heed

him quickly enough, he launched his splendor over the spot, whereat the

youth sank in dire confusion. And next, our hero caught sight of a

female fair to look upon peeping at him furtively from behind her

lattice of reeds. To see was to act, he flung his heart at the maiden

upon the instant, and followed headlong after, thru I know not what

reedy mazes. Oh, heart ever young, and pursuit never wearying!

Northwestern Red-wings find rather restricted range thruout western

Washington, but they appear wherever there are fresh-water marshes or

reed-bordered lakes. In default of cat-tails they will accept the

shelter of dwarf willows, or coarse dense grass of any sort.

Nesting is undertaken at Tacoma at least by the third week in April, and

we have found eggs as early as the sixth of that month. The nest of the

accompanying illustration (photogravure) is composed solely of the

coiled stems of the dried bulrushes, amongst which it is placed, with a

lining of clean dried grass-stems.

Few eggs exceed in beauty those of the Red-winged Black-bird. The

background is a pale bluish green of great delicacy, and upon this occur

sharply-defined spots, blotches, marblings, traceries, and “pen-work” of

dark sepia, purplish black, drab, and heliotrope purple. Or a spot of

color appears to be deeply imbedded in the fine, strong texture of the

shell, and carries about it an aura of diminishing color. Occasionally,

the whole egg is suffused with pale brownish, or, more rarely, it is

entirely unmarked.

Incubation lasts fourteen days and the young are ready to leave the nest

in a little over two weeks more. They are frizzly, helpless, complaining

little creatures, but if they cannot fly well they can clamber, and they

cling with the grip of terrified monkeys.

Our Northwestern Red-wings are normally migratory, but they also winter

with us irregularly; and this habit appears to be gaining ground as the

guarantee of food becomes more certain. Numbers of them subsist in both

Seattle and Tacoma in the vicinity of grain elevators, where they will

have comfortable sustenance until such time as the augmented English

Sparrows decree death to all native birds.

No. 21.

YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRD.

A. O. U. No. 497. Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus (Bonap.).

Description.—_Adult male_: Head, neck all around, and breast orange

yellow; lores and feathers skirting eyes and bill, black; a double

white patch on folded wing formed by greater and lesser coverts, but

interrupted by black of bastard wing; usually a little yellow about

vent and on tibiæ; the remaining plumage black, dull or subdued, and

turning brown on wing-tips and tail. _Female_: Dark brown; line over

eye, throat, and upper breast dull yellow. Length 10.00-11.00

(254-279.4); wing 5.30-5.60 (134.6-142.2); tail 4.00-4.50

(101.6-114.3); bill .90 (22); tarsus 1.25 (31.8). Female smaller,

length 8.00-9.50 (203.2-241.3).

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; yellow head and breast; white

wing-patches.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a bulky but usually neat fabric of dried grasses,

reeds or cat-tails lashed to growing ones; 5-7 inches in diameter

outside by 5-8 deep; inside deeply cupped. _Eggs_: 3-6, grayish green

spotted or clouded with reddish brown, rarely scrawled as in

_Agelaius_; elongate ovate in shape. Av. size, 1.10 × .75 (27.9 × 19).

_Season_: May or June; one brood.

General Range.—Western North America from Wisconsin, Illinois and

Texas to the Pacific Coast, and from British Columbia and the

Saskatchewan River southward to the Valley of Mexico. Accidental in

Middle and Atlantic States.

Range in Washington.—Of local distribution in eastern Washington

chiefly east of the Columbia River. Rare or casual west of the

Cascades. Summer resident.

Authorities.—[“Yellow-headed Blackbird,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884

(1885), 22.] Bendire, Life Hist. N. A. Birds, Vol. II. 1895, p. 447.

Ss^r. J.

Specimens.—Prov. C. P.

Oh, well for the untried nerves that the Yellow-headed Blackbird sings

by day, when the sun is shining brightly, and there are no supporting

signs of a convulsion of Nature! Verily, if love affected us all in

similar fashion, the world would be a merry mad-house. The Yellow-head

is an extraordinary person—you are prepared for that once you catch

sight of his resplendent gold-upon-black livery—but his avowal of the

tender passion is a revelation of incongruity. Grasping a reed firmly in

both fists, he leans forward, and, after premonitory gulps and gasps,

succeeds in pressing out a wail of despairing agony which would do

credit to a dying catamount. When you have recovered from the first

shock, you strain the eyes in astonishment that a mere bird, and a bird

in love at that, should give rise to such a cataclysmic sound. But he

can do it again, and his neighbor across the way can do as well—or

worse. When your nerves have somewhat recovered, modesty overcomes you,

and you retire, not without a chastened sense of privilege that you have

lived to hear the Yellow-head pop the question,—“and also you lived

after.”

The expiring Romeo cry is quite the finest of the Xanthocephaline

repertory, but there are others not devoid of interest. _Ok-eh-ah-oh-oo_

is a musical series of startling brilliancy, comparable in a degree to

the yodelling of a street urchin,—a succession of sounds of varying

pitches, produced as tho by altering the oral capacity. It may be noted

thus: [Illustration: music] The last note is especially mellow and

pleasing, recalling to some ears the liquid gurgle of the Bobolink, to

which, of course, our bird is distinctly related.

[Illustration: _Photo by the Author._

MALE YELLOW HEAD.]

Alternating with the last named, and more frequently heard from the

depths of the nesting swamp is _gur, gurrl_; or, as oftenest, _yewi(nk),

yewi(nk), gur-gurrl_. In this phrase the _gurrl_ is drawn out with

comical effect, as tho the gallant were down on his knees before some

unyielding maiden.

The Yellow-head’s ordinary note of distrust, equivalent to the _dink_

note of the Red-wing, is _kluck_ or _koluck’_. In flight this becomes

almost invariably _oo’kluk, oo’kluk_.

At rest, again, this is sometimes prolonged into a thrilling passage of

resonant “l” notes, probably remonstratory in character. The alarm cry

is built upon the same basis, and is uttered with exceeding vehemence,

_klookoloy, klookoloy, klook ooooo_.

Finally, if one may presume to speak finally of so versatile a genius,

they have a harsh, rasping note very similar in quality to the scolding

note of the Steller Jay, only lighter in weight and a little higher in

pitch. This is the note of fierce altercation, or the distress cry in

imminent danger. The last time I heard it was in the rank herbage

bordering upon a shallow lake in Douglas County. I rushed in to find a

big blow-snake coiling just below a nestful of young birds, while the

agonized parents and sympathetic neighbors hovered over the spot crying

piteously. To stamp upon the reptile was but the work of a moment; and

when I dropped the limp ophidian upon the bare ground, all the blackbird

population gathered about the carcass, shuddering but exultant,

and—perhaps it was only fancy—grateful too.

For all the Yellow-head is so decided in utterance, in disposition he is

somewhat phlegmatic, the male bird especially lacking the vivacity which

characterizes the agile Brewer Blackbird. Except when hungry, or

impelled by passion, he is quite content to mope for hours at a time in

the depths of the reeds; and even in nesting time, when his precincts

are invaded, he oftener falls to admiring his own plumage in the

flooding sunshine than tries to drive off the intruder. Let the homely

and distrait female attend to that.

[Illustration: _Taken in Douglas County._ _Photo by W. Leon Dawson._

NEST OF YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRD IN TULES.]

This bird is essentially a plains-loving species, and its favorite

haunts with us are the reedy borders of the treeless lakes, and the

upland sloughs of eastern Washington. It is highly gregarious,

especially in the fall and early spring, but confesses to about the same

degree of domesticity as the Red-wing, in late spring and early summer.

[Illustration: _Taken in Douglas County._ _Photo by the Author._

A STOUTLY-WOVEN BASKET.]

The nests are stoutly-woven baskets of reeds and grasses, light and dry

and handsome. No mud or other matrix material is used in construction,

and the interior is always carefully lined with fine dry grass. The

illimitable bulrushes are the favorite cover, but rank herbage of any

sort is used if only it be near or over water. The most humble

situations suffice; and the nest is often placed within a foot of the

water, or its equivalent of black ooze.

No. 22.

WESTERN MEADOWLARK.

A. O. U. No. 501.1. Sturnella neglecta Audubon.

Synonyms.—Field Lark. Old-field Lark. Medlark. Medlar (poetical).

Mudlark (corruption).

Description.—_Adult male_: General color of upperparts brownish black

modified by much tawny and buffy-gray edgings of the feathers which

throw the black into stripes and bars with suggestion of herring-bone

pattern; the tawny heaviest on secondaries and upper tail-feathers

where taking the form of partial bands, a median crown stripe and

posterior portion of superciliary sordid white or buffy; anterior

portion of superciliary, cheeks, chin, upper throat, breast (broadly)

and middle belly rich lemon yellow (inclining to orange in older

specimens); a large black crescent on upper breast; sides and flanks

black-streaked and spotted with pale brown on a buffy or whitish

ground. Bill variegated, tawny, black and white. _Female_: Like male

but smaller and paler with some substitutions of brown for black in

streaking; black of jugulum veiled by grayish tips of feathers; yellow

of breast duller, etc. The plumage of both sexes is duller in fall and

winter, the normal colors being restrained by buffy overlay. Length of

adult male: 10.00-11.00 (254-279.4); wing 4.85 (123.2); tail 3.00

(76.2); bill 1.30 (33); tarsus 1.46 (37.1). Female smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; yellow breast with black collar

distinctive; general streaky appearance above; yellow cheeks as

distinguished from the Eastern Meadowlark (_Sturnella magna_).

Nesting.—_Nest_: on the ground in thick grass or weeds; a slight

depression lined (carefully or not) and usually overarched with dried

grasses. _Eggs_: 4-6, white, speckled and spotted, sometimes very

sparingly, with cinnamon brown or purplish; very variable in shape,

elliptical ovate to almost round. Av. size, 1.12 × .80 (28.5 × 20.3).

_Season_: April and June; two broods. Tacoma, April 5, 1906, 4 fresh

eggs.

General Range.—Western United States, southwestern British Provinces,

and northwestern Mexico, east to prairie districts of Mississippi

Valley, Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, etc., occasionally to Illinois and

Michigan; breeding thruout its range.

Range in Washington.—Abundant east and west of the Cascades; largely

resident on the West-side, partially on the East-side; numbers

augmented from the south during last week in February.

Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814), Ed. Biddle: Coues.

Vol II. p. 186.] _Sturnella neglecta_ Aud., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.

Surv. IX. 1858, 539. T. C&S. L². Rh. D¹. Sr. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss². Kk. B.

E.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. B. E. BN. P¹.

Summer silences the birds so gradually and we ourselves have become so

much absorbed in business during the prosy days of September that we

have almost forgotten the choruses of springtime and have come to accept

our uncheered lot as part of the established order of things. But on a

nippy October morning, as we are bending over some dull task, there

comes a sound which brings us to our feet. We hasten to the window,

throw up the sash and lean out into the cool, fresh air while a

Meadowlark rehearses, all at a sitting, the melodies of the year’s

youth. It all comes back to us with a rush; the smell of lush grasses,

the splendor of apple blossoms, the courage of lengthening days, the

ecstacies of courtship—all these are recalled by the lark-song. It is as

tho this forethoughted soul had caught the music of a May day, just at

its prime, in a crystal vase, and was now pouring out the imprisoned

sound in a gurgling, golden flood. What cheer! What heartening! Yea;

what rejuvenation it brings! Wine of youth! Splashes of color and gay

delight!

It is impossible not to rhapsodize over the Meadowlark. He is a

rhapsodist himself. Born of the soil and lost in its embraces for such

time as it pleases him, he yet quits his lowly station ever and again,

mounts some fence-post or tree-top, and publishes to the world an

unquenchable gladness in things-as-they-are. If at sunrise, then the

gleams of the early ray flash resplendent from his golden

breastplate,—this high-priest of morning; and all Nature echoes his

joyous blast: “Thank God for sunshine!” Or if the rain begins to fall,

who so quickly grateful for its refreshment as this optimist of the

ground, this prophet of good cheer! There is even an added note of

exultation in his voice as he shouts: “Thank God for rain!” And who like

him can sing farewell to parting day! Piercing sweet from the meadows

come the last offerings of day’s daysmen, peal and counterpeal from

rival friendly throats, unfailing, unfaltering, unsubdued: “It is good

to live. It is good to rest. Thank God for the day now done!”

The Meadowlark of the East has a poet’s soul but he lacks an adequate

instrument of expression. His voice does not respond to his requirement.

Perhaps his early education, as a species, was neglected. Certain it is

that in passing westward across the prairies of Iowa or Minnesota one

notices an instant change in the voices of the Meadowlarks. The song of

the western bird is sweeter, clearer, louder, longer and more varied.

The difference is so striking that we can explain it only upon the

supposition of an independent development. The western bird got his

early training where prairie wild flowers of a thousand hues ministered

to his senses, where breath of pine mingled faintly with the aroma of

neighboring cactus bloom, and where the sight of distant mountains fired

the imagination of a poet race. At any rate we of the West are proud of

the Western Meadowlark and would have you believe that such a blithe

spirit could evolve only under such circumstances.

Bird song never _exactly_ conforms to our musical notation, and there is

no instrument save the human “whistle” which will even passably

reproduce the quality of the Meadowlark’s song. Nevertheless, many

interesting experiments have been made in recording these songs and a

little attention will convince the least accomplished musician that

there is a fascinating field for study here.

A formal song of the Western Meadowlark comprises from four to a dozen

notes, usually six or seven. The song phrases vary endlessly in detail,

yet certain types are clearly distinguishable, types which reappear in

different parts of the country, apparently without regard to local

traditions or suppositional schools of song. Thus a Chelan singer says,

“_Oku wheel′er, ku wheel′er_”, and he may not have a rival in a hundred

miles; yet another bird on the University campus in Seattle sings, _Eh

heu, wheel′iky, wheel′iky_, or even _Eh heu wheel′iky, wheel′iky,

wheel′iky_, and you recognize it instantly as belonging to the same

type. In like manner _Owy′hee, rec′itative_ was heard with perfect

distinctness both at Wallula and in Okanogan County.

Each bird has a characteristic song-phrase by which he may be recognized

and traced thru a season, or thru succeeding years. One boisterous

spirit in Chelan I shall never forget for he insisted on shouting, hour

after hour, and day after day, “_Hip! Hip! Hurrah! boys; three cheers!_”

Yet, while this is true, no bird is confined to one style of song. An

autumnal soloist in Ravenna Park rendered no less than six distinct

songs or song-phrases in a rehearsal lasting five minutes. He gave them

without regard to sequence, now repeating the same phrase several times

in succession, now hurrying on to new forms, pausing only after each

utterance for breath.

Nor is the effort of the Western Meadowlark confined to the formal song

for he often pours out a flood of warbling, chattering and gurgling

notes which at close range are very attractive. Not infrequently he will

interrupt one of these meditative rhapsodies with the clarion call, and

return immediately to his minor theme.

In the presence of a stranger the lark serves frequent notice of

intended departure in a vigorous _toop_, or _toob_, accompanying the

sound with an emphatic flirt of the wings and jerk of the tail. Now and

then the actual departure is accompanied by a beautiful yodelling song.

After several preliminary _toobs_ the bird launches himself with

fantastic exaggeration of effort and rolls out, _O′ly o′ly o′ly o′ly

o′ly_, with ravishing sweetness.

At nesting time the parent birds have many causes for apprehension, and

as they move about in search of food they give vent to the _toob_ note

of distrust in a fashion which soon becomes chronic. In Douglas County

this note is doubled, _two′ bit_, or _two′ whit_, and one cannot recall

the varied life of the sage in June without hearing as an undertone the

half melancholy _two′ bit_ of a mother Meadowlark as she works her way

homeward by fearful stages.

At nesting time the Western Meadowlark enjoys a wide distribution in

Washington. It is found not only on all grassy lowlands and in

cultivated sections but in the open sage as well and upon the half-open

pine-clad foothills up to an altitude of four thousand feet.

The Meadowlark is an assiduous nester. This not because of any unusual

amativeness but because young Meadowlarks are the _morceaux délicieux_

of all the powers that prey, skunks, weasels, mink, raccoons, coyotes,

snakes, magpies, crows. Hawks and owls otherwise blameless in the

bird-world err here—the game is too easy. Even the noble Peregrine does

not disdain this humble, albeit toothsome, quarry, and the Least Falcon

(_Falco sparverius phalæna_) will stoop for a young Meadowlark when all

other avian offerings are virtuously passed by.

[Illustration: _Taken in Stevens County._ _Photo by the Author._

NEST AND EGGS OF THE WESTERN MEADOWLARK.]

Fecundity then is the only recourse,—this, and concealment. Not relying

altogether upon its marvelous protective coloration the lark exhibits

great caution in approaching, and, if possible, in quitting its nest. In

either case it sneaks along the ground for a considerable distance,

threading the mazes of the grass so artfully that the human eye can

follow with difficulty or not at all. At the approach of danger a

sitting bird may either steal from her nest unobserved and rise at a

safe distance or else seek to further her deception by feigning lameness

after the fashion of the Shore-birds. Or, again, she may cling to her

charge in desperation hoping against hope till the last possible moment

and taking chances of final mishap. In this way a friend of mine once

discovered a brooding Meadowlark imprisoned underneath his

boot—fortunately without damage for she occupied the deep depression of

a cow-track.

To further concealment the grass-lined depression in which the

Meadowlark places her four or five speckled eggs is almost invariably

over-arched with dried grasses. This renders the eggs practically

invisible from above, and especially if the nest is placed in thick

grass or rank herbage, as is customary. Touching instances of blind

devotion to this arch tradition were, however, afforded by a sheep-swept

pasture near Adrian. Here the salt-grass was cropped close and the very

sage was gnawed to stubs. But the Meadowlarks, true to custom, had

imported long, dried grasses with which to over-arch their nests. As a

result one had only to look for knobs on the landscape. By eye alone we

located six of these pathetic landmarks in the course of a half-hour’s

stroll.

One brood is usually brought off by May 1st and another by the middle of

June. Altho Meadowlarks are classed as altricial, i. e. having young

helpless when hatched and which require to be nurtured in the nest, the

young Meadowlarks are actually very precocious and scatter from the nest

four or five days after hatching, even before they are able to fairly

stand erect. This arrangement lessens the chances of wholesale

destruction but it would appear to complicate the problem from the

parental standpoint. How would you, for instance, like to tend five

babies, each in a separate thicket in a trackless forest, and that

haunted by cougars, and lynxes, and boa-constrictors and things?

We cannot afford to be indifferent spectators to this early struggle for

existence, for it is difficult to overestimate the economic value of the

Meadowlark. The bird is by choice almost exclusively insectivorous. If,

however, when hard pressed, he does take toll of the fallen wheat or

alfalfa seed, he is as easily justifiable as is the hired man who

consumes the farmer’s biscuits that he may have the strength to wield

the hoe against the farmer’s weeds. Being provided with a long and

sensitive bill, the Meadowlark not only gleans its insect prey from the

surface of the ground, but works among the grass roots, and actually

probes the earth in its search for wire- and cut-worms, those most

dreaded pests. Besides devouring injurious grubs and insects of many

kinds, the Lark has a great fondness for grasshoppers, subsisting almost

entirely upon these in the season of their greatest abundance. In the

matter of grasshopper consumption alone Meadowlarks of average

distribution, are estimated by no less an authority than Professor Beal,

to be worth about twenty-four dollars per month, per township, in saving

the hay crop. To the individual farmer this may seem a small matter, but

in the aggregate the saving to the nation amounts to some hundreds of

thousands of dollars each year. Even in winter, when a few individuals

or occasional companies of Larks are still to be found, a large

proportion of their food consists of hardy beetles and other insects,

while weed-seed and scattering grain is laid under tribute, as it were,

reluctantly.

It goes without saying that we cannot regard this bird as lawful game.

We exempt the horse from slaughter not because its flesh is unfit for

food—it is really very sapid—but because the animal has endeared itself

to our race by generations of faithful service. We place the horse in

another category, that of animal friend. And the human race, the best of

it, has some time since discovered compunctions about eating its

friends. Make friends with this bonny bird, the Meadowlark, and you will

be ashamed thenceforth to even discuss assassination. Fricassee of prima

donna! Voice of morning _en brochette_! Bird-of-merry-cheer on toast!

Faugh! And yet that sort of thing passed muster a generation ago—does

yet in the darker parts of Europe!

_Fringillidæ_—The Finches

No. 23.

WESTERN EVENING GROSBEAK.

A. O. U. No. 514a. Hesperiphona vespertina montana Ridgway.

Description.—_Adult male_: Forehead and superciliaries gamboge yellow;

feathers about base of bill, lores, and crown black; wings black with

large white patch formed by tips of inner secondaries and tertials;

tail black; remaining plumage sooty olive brown about head and neck,

shading thru olive and olive-green to yellow on wing and under

tail-coverts. Bill bluish horn-color and citron yellow; feet brownish.

_Adult female_: General color deep smoky brownish gray or buffy brown,

darker on the head, lighter on wings, lighter, more buffy, on sides,

shading to dull whitish on throat and abdomen, tinged with yellowish

green on hind-neck, clearing to light yellow on axillars and under

wing-coverts; a small clear white patch at base of inner primaries;

white blotches on tips of upper tail-coverts and inner webs of

tail-feathers in varying proportions. Length about 8.00 (203.2); wing

4.39 (111.5); tail 2.42 (61.4); bill .82 (20.8); depth at base .62

(15.9); tarsus. 81 (20.3). Female very slightly smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; olive-brown coloration with black and

white in masses on wings; large, conical beak distinctive;

high-pitched call note.

Nesting.—Has not yet been found breeding in Washington but undoubtedly

does so. _Nest_ (as reported from New Mexico): principally composed of

fine rootlets with some Usnea moss and a few sticks, settled upon

horizontal branches of pine or fir, near tip, and at considerable

heights; in loose colonies. _Eggs_: 4, “in color, size, form, and

texture indistinguishable from those of the Red-winged Blackbird”

(Birtwell).

General Range.—Western United States and Northern Mexico; east to and

including Rocky Mountains; north to British Columbia.

Range in Washington.—Co-extensive with evergreen timber and appearing

irregularly elsewhere. Resident within State but roving locally.

Winters regularly in parks of the larger cities.

Authorities.—? _Fringilla vespertina_ Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci.

Phila. VIII. 1839, 154 (Columbia R.). _Hesperiphona vespertina_ Baird,

Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. 1858, 409. T. C&S. Ra. Kk. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. P¹. Prov. B. E.

[Illustration: WESTERN EVENING GROSBEAKS

MALE AND FEMALE, ¾ LIFE SIZE

From a Water-color Painting by Allan Brooks]

Sparrows are also called Cone-bills; it is, therefore, fair that the

bird with the biggest cone should take precedence in a family history.

But for this primacy there are damaging limitations. The Grosbeak is

neither the most beautiful nor the most tuneful of the Fringillidæ, if

he is by common consent rated the oddest. His garb is a patchwork; his

song a series of shrieks; his motions eccentric; his humor phlegmatic;

and his concepts beyond the ken of man. Altho at times one of the most

approachable of birds, he is, on the whole, an avian freak, a rebus in

feathers.

Perhaps we make too much of a mystery of him, just as we rate the owl

highest in wisdom for the single discretion of silence, which any

dunderhead may attain. But now take this group in the park; just what

are they at? They sit there stolidly in the rowan tree where all the

passersby may take note of them, giving vent ever and anon to explosive

yelps, but _doing nothing_ by the hour, until an insane impulse seizes

one of their number to be off to some other scene no better, be it near

or far, and the rest yield shrieking consent by default of alternative

idea. It is all so unreasonable, so uncanny, that it irritates us.

Evening Grosbeaks are semi-gregarious the year around, but are seen to

best advantage in winter or early spring, when they flock closely and

visit city parks or wooded lawns. One is oftenest attracted to their

temporary quarters by the startling and disconnected noises which are

flung out broadcast. It may be that the flock is absorbed in the depths

of a small fir, so that one may come up near enough to analyze the

sound. Three sorts of notes are plainly distinguishable: a low murmuring

of pure tones, quite pleasant to the ear; a harsh but subdued rattle, or

alarm note, _wzzzt_ or _wzzzp_, familiarly similar to that of the

Crossbill; and the high-pitched shriek, which distinguishes the bird

from all others, _dimp_. A little attention brings to light the fact

that all the birds in the flock bring out this astonishing note at

_precisely the same pitch_. Once distinguished, this note will serve

again and again to draw attention to this uncanny fowl, as it passes

overhead or loses itself in the bosom of some giant conifer.

It is not a little surprising at first thought, that the habits of these

birds are best known in our larger cities, Seattle, Tacoma, Spokane, and

Portland. Why they should be especially attracted to them, it is hard to

say, unless it be that they love the din of urban life, which they help

so valiantly to promote. But it is easy to see why they are more

noticeable there; for their showy and patchy coloration marks them as

distinguished visitors in town, whereas in the forest their colors so

melt into and harmonize with their surroundings that it is difficult to

follow their movements.

These Grosbeaks, or New World Hawfinches, are not to be commended as

horticulturists. In winter they feed largely upon the ground, gleaning

fallen seeds and fruits; and are especially fond of the winged key of

the large-leafed maple (_Acer macrophyllum_). They drop down to such a

feast one by one from the branches above, and it is amusing to note how

the loud cracking of seeds is interspersed with music. A little later

the birds devote themselves to swelling buds, and here too the maple is

a favorite; tho ash, alder, flowering currant, and a dozen more are not

disdained. The damage done is not considerable; for the birds, viewed in

the large, are not numerous enough, all told, to be taken seriously; but

viewed in the concrete, the snip, snip, of those mandibles in the lilac

bushes is no idle joy.

It may be that the key of high C sharp, or whatever it be, _staccato con

moto_, is the accepted love note, and that the green-liveried swain

hurls declarations at his enamorata, like Samson in Handel’s oratorio,

the live-long year. Anyway, his exertions are redoubled in early June,

and he charges about in a reckless frenzy which should make the city

gape. June, 1906, was memorable to us for the abundance of these

Grosbeaks in the vicinity of Spokane. The very air of Cannon Hill and

Hangman’s Creek seemed charged with expectation of Grosbeaks’ nests. But

they were not for us. Nor has the nest yet been taken in Washington.

No. 24.

ALASKAN PINE GROSBEAK.

A. O. U. No. 515c. Pinicola enucleator alascensis Ridgway.

Synonym.—Pine Bullfinch.

Description.—_Adult male_: In highest plumage rosy red (poppy red);

back with dusky centers of feathers; lower belly and under

tail-coverts ashy gray—this high plumage is the exception; in general

the rosy gives place to ashy gray in varying proportions; wings and

tail ashy dusky; tips of middle and greater coverts and outer edges of

exposed tertials white (or rosy). Bill dusky; feet blackish. _Adult

female_: Similar to male but rosy replaced by dingy yellow (varying

from olive-yellow, olive-tawny and ochraceous to bricky red) and

chiefly confined to head, hind-neck and upper tail-coverts (where

brightest); feathers of back frequently tipped with ochraceous and

breast with an ochrey wash. Length about 8.60 (218.4); wing 4.60

(117); tail 3.66 (93); bill .57 (14.5); tarsus .89 (22.7).

Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; large, rounded conical beak; red and

gray coloration for size distinctive.

Nesting.—“_Nest_, composed of a basement of twigs and rootlets within

which is a more compact fabric of finer materials. _Eggs_, usually 4,

pale greenish blue, spotted and blotched with dark brown surface

markings and lilac shell-spots.” Av. size 1.05 × .74 (26.7 × 18.8).

_Season_: About June 1st; one brood.

General Range.—“Northwestern North America, except Pacific Coast,

breeding in interior of Alaska; south, in winter, to eastern British

Columbia, Montana (Bitterroot Valley), etc.” (Ridgway).

Range in Washington.—Reported by Allan Brooks as breeding in the Mt.

Baker district (as below); should occur upon the timbered lowlands in

winter.

Authorities.—Allan Brooks _in epist._ Dawson, Auk Vol. XXV. Oct. 1908,

p. 482.

Specimens.—Prov.

This large and handsome Finch is of very irregular occurrence in

southern British Columbia excepting the higher mountain ranges, where it

breeds. During some winters it is present in large numbers, while in

others, equally severe, none are seen. The species was very common

throughout the winter of 1906-1907, a very severe one; but in that of

1901-1902, which was notably mild, Pine Grosbeaks were noticed in

considerable numbers as far south as Penticton, 40 miles north of the

international boundary, and they undoubtedly occurred much farther

south.

Their food in the winter months is principally berries, but, strange to

say, they altogether refuse those of the mountain ash, both the

introduced and indigenous species. The former is the favorite food of

the Eastern Pine Grosbeak thruout the winter in Ontario, but trees

loaded with fruit were passed by at Okanagan Landing in the winter of

1906-1907, even after the birds had eaten all the rose hips and snow

berries and were reduced to eating weed seeds with the _Leucostictes_.

Either this sub-species or _montana_ breeds on all the higher mountain

ranges in British Columbia, occupying a zone from timber line downwards

about 2,000 feet.

My first acquaintance with the Pine Grosbeak at its breeding grounds,

was in the Cascade Mountains due north of Mt. Baker, on both sides of

the Forty-ninth Parallel. Here the species was a somewhat sparing

breeder close to timber line among the hemlock and balsam timber. They

were feeding young on the 17th of July; at the same time Crossbills had

fully grown young in flocks. No red males were seen, though many gray

males were singing in the early mornings from the topmost spray of some

balsam.

In the writer’s opinion the red plumage in the male is acquired at the

first moult or immediately after the juvenal dress, and is usually only

retained for one season; in some males a duller red dress is carried

through the second summer, or more rarely a salmon-pink one; but in most

cases the dress of the second summer is a gray one like the females,

with yellow head and rump. Females may sometimes be seen with decidedly

red heads and rumps,—from the size and shape of the bill these seem to

be very old birds. The above remarks as to the red dress in the male

apply also, in the writer’s experience, to the genera _Loxia_,

_Carpodacus_ and _Acanthis_.

Allan Brooks.

No. 25.

AMERICAN CROSSBILL.

A. O. U. No. 521. Loxia curvirostra minor (Brehm.).

Synonym.—Red Crossbill.

Description.—_Adult male_: Tips of mandibles crossed either way;

plumage red, brightest on rump; feathers of back with brownish

centers; wings and tail fuscous. Shade of red very variable,—orange,

cinnabar, even vermilion, sometimes toned down by a saffron suffusion.

_Immature males_ sometimes present a curiously mottled appearance with

chrome-green and red intermingled. _Female and young_: Dull

olive-green, brighter and more yellow on head and rump; below gray

overcast by dingy yellow. Adult male, length 5.50-6.25 (139.7-158.8);

wings 3.40 (86.4); tail 2.05 (52.1); bill .70 (17.8) or under.

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; crossed mandibles; male red and

female olive-green; both _without_ white wing-bars.

“Nest: in forks or among twigs of tree, founded on a mass of twigs and

bark-strips, the inside felted of finer materials, including small

twigs, rootlets, grasses, hair, feathers, etc. _Eggs_: 3-4, 0.75 ×

0.57, pale greenish, spotted and dotted about larger end with dark

purplish brown, with lavender shell-markings” (Coues). Av. size, .85 ×

.53 (21.6 × 13.5) (Brewer). _Season_: erratic, Feb.-Oct.; one brood.

General Range.—Northern North America, resident sparingly south in the

eastern United States to Maryland and Tennessee, and in the

Alleghanies, irregularly abundant in winter. Of irregular distribution

thruout the coniferous forests of the West, save in southern

California, Arizona, and New Mexico, where replaced by _L. c.

stricklandi_.

Range in Washington.—Found thruout the coniferous forests of the

State; of irregular occurrence locally. Non-migratory but nomadic.

Authorities.—_Curvirostra americana_ Wils. Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.

Surv. IX. pt. II. 1858, 426 part, 427. T. C&S. L¹. D¹. Ra. D². J. B.

E.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. E. B.

When a bird’s pastures are the tree-tops it is possible for it to live a

quite secluded life here in Washington. And, indeed, we know the

Crossbill chiefly as a wandering voice or, rather, a vocal babel,

passing from summit to summit in the grim fir forest. But on a rare day,

it may be in Spokane, or it may be in Tacoma, the birds descend to human

levels and are discovered feeding busily on their favorite pine cones.

The birds are perfectly indifferent to equilibrium, and feed any side up

without care. While thus engaged they may exhibit little fear of the

beholder and sometimes venture within reach; but as often, for some

whimsical reason they are up and away again as tho seized by evil

spirits.

The Crossbill owes its peculiar mandibles to an age-long hankering for

pine-seeds (using that word in the generic sense), a desire fully

satisfied according to the fashion of that Providence which works so

variously thru Nature, and whose method we are pleased to call

evolution. The bill of the bird was not meant for an organ of

prehension, and Buffon, the Deist, once won a cheap applause by railing

at the Almighty for a supposed oversight in this direction; but as

matter of fact, its wonderful crossed mandibles enable the Crossbill to

do what no other bird can; viz., pry and cut open the scales of a fir

cone, in order to extract the tiny seed with its tongue.

These birds are not entirely confined to a vegetable diet, for I once

detected a group of them feeding industriously in a small elm tree which

was infested with little gray insects, plant-lice or something of the

sort. The presence of these insects, in colonies, caused the edges of

the leaves to shrivel and curl tightly backward into a protective roll.

Close attention showed that the Crossbills were feeding exclusively upon

these aphides. They first slit open a leaf-roll with their

scissor-bills, then extracted the insects with their tongues, taking

care apparently to secure most of the members of each colony before

passing to the next.

Crossbills also feed to some extent upon the ground, where they pick up

fallen seeds and other tidbits. Mr. J. F. Galbraith, a ranger of the

Washington Forest Reserve, first called my attention to another purpose

which the birds have in visiting the ground. He had noticed how at

certain places, and notably where dish-water was habitually thrown, the

Crossbills were wont to congregate, and, turning the head sidewise, to

thrust out the tongue along the bare ground in a most puzzling manner.

Suspecting at last the real state of affairs, he sprinkled the ground

with salt, and upon their return the birds licked it up with great

avidity. Mr. Galbraith claims to have tried this experiment successfully

upon numerous occasions. The birds do not appear to recognize the salt

at first sight, but soon learn to resort to established salt-licks in

open places. Rev. Fred M. McCreary also reports similar habits in

connection with certain mineral springs in the Suiattle country. When we

recall that the normal food of the Crossbill is pine-seeds, this craving

for Nature’s solvent is readily understandable.

Crossbills give out an intermittent rattling cry, or excited titter,

_tew, tew, tew_, while feeding. They have also a flight note which

consists of a short, clear whistle; and a flock composed of separately

undulating individuals affords a pleasing sensation to both eye and ear,

as it rapidly passes. The male is said to have sprightly whistling notes

of a most agreeable character, generically related to that of the Pine

Grosbeak, or Purple Finch, but their exhibition must be rather rare.

After all, there is something a bit uncanny about these cross-billed

creatures, and their eccentricities show nowhere in greater relief than

in their nesting habits. The quasi migrations of the bird are determined

by the local abundance of fir (or pine) cones. Like their food supply,

the birds themselves may abound in a given section one year and be

conspicuously absent the next. Moreover, because there is no choice of

season in gathering the seed crop, the birds may nest whenever the whim

seizes them; and this they do from January to July, or even October. The

communal life is maintained in spite of the occasional defection of

love-lorn couples; and there is nothing in the appearance of a flock of

Crossbills in April to suggest that other such are dutifully nesting.

Mr. Bowles has never taken the eggs near Tacoma, altho he has

encountered half a dozen of their nests in twelve years, the only

occupied one of which we have record being found by a friend on the 25th

of April, 1899. It contained three half-incubated eggs, and was placed

in one of a group of small firs in the prairie country, at an elevation

of some twenty feet. The nest rather closely resembles that of the

California Purple Finch, but is more compactly built and much more

heavily lined. It is composed of twigs and rootlets closely interwoven,

and boasts an inner quilt of felted cow-hair nearly half an inch in

thickness. The female Crossbill exhibits a singular devotion to duty,

once confessed, and in this case the collector had actually to lift her

from the eggs in order that he might examine them.

No. 26.

WHITE-WINGED CROSSBILL.

A. O. U. No. 522. Loxia leucoptera Gmel.

Description.—_Male_: Rosy-red or carmine all over, save for grayish of

nape and black of scapulars, wings, and tail. The black of scapulars

sometimes meets on lower back. Two conspicuous white wing-bars are

formed by the tips of the middle and greater coverts. Bill slender and

weaker than in preceding species. _Female and young_: Light

olive-yellow, ochraceous, or even pale orange over gray, clearer on

rump, duller on throat and belly; most of the feathers with dusky

centers, finer on crown and throat, broader on back and breast; wings

and tail as in male, but fuscous rather than black; feather-edgings

olivaceous. Very variable. Length 6.00-6.50 (152.4-165.1); wing 3.50

(88.9); tail 2.25 (57.2); bill .67 (17).

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; crossed bill; conspicuous white

wing-bars of both sexes.

Nesting.—_Nest_ has not yet been taken in Washington but bird

undoubtedly breeds here. “_Nest_: of twigs and strips of birch-bark,

covered exteriorly with moss (_Usnea_) and lined with soft moss and

hair, on the fork of an evergreen, in deep forests. _Eggs_: 3(?), pale

blue, spotted and streaked near larger end with reddish brown and

lilac, .80 × .55 (20.3 × 1.4.)” (Chamberlain). _Season_: Feb.-March.

General Range.—Northern parts of North America and southern Greenland,

south into the United States in winter. Resident in coniferous timber

thru the entire northern tier of states and irregularly south in the

mountains at least to Colorado. Casual in western Europe.

Range in Washington.—Several records of occurrences in northern

Cascade Mountains. Doubtless regular and resident.

Authorities.—Dawson, Auk, Vol. XVII. Oct., 1901, p. 403. D².

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. C. B.

To tell the truth, no one hereabouts appears to know much about the

White-winged Crossbill. It is presumed to be common in the Cascade

Mountains, but I have only thrice encountered it: once, May 15, 1891, in

the mountains of Yakima County; again, July 23, 1900, on the slopes of

Wright’s Peak near the head of Lake Chelan; and lastly, on the summit of

Cascade Pass, June 25, 1906. There are no other records.[12] This

species is quite as erratic as its more common cousin; and while it is,

perhaps, more nearly confined to the mountains, it should be looked for

wherever _C. minor_ occurs, and especially in flocks of the latter

species.

Of the bird’s occurrence in Alaska, where it is much more abundant,

Nelson says[13]: “It is more familiar than the Grosbeak [i. e.,

_Pinicola enucleator alascensis_], frequently coming low down among the

smaller growth, and it is a common sight to see parties of them swinging

about in every conceivable position from the twigs on the tops of the

cottonwoods or birch trees, where the birds are busily engaged in

feeding upon the buds. They pay no heed to a passing party of sleds,

except, perhaps, that an individual will fly down to some convenient

bush, where he curiously examines the strange procession, and, his

curiosity satisfied or confidence restored, back he goes to his

companions and continues feeding. When fired at they utter chirps of

alarm and call to each other with a long, sweet note, something similar

to that of the Goldfinch (_Spinus tristis_). They keep up a constant

_cheeping_ repetition of this note when feeding in parties, and if one

of their number is shot the others approach closer and closer to the

hunter, and gaze with mingled curiosity and sympathy upon their

fluttering companion.”

No. 27.

GRAY-CROWNED LEUCOSTICTE.

A. O. U. No. 524. Leucosticte tephrocotis Swains.

Synonyms.—Rosy Finch. Swainson’s Rosy Finch.

Description.—_Adults_: Similar to _L. t. littoralis_ but ashy gray of

head restricted to sides of crown and occiput—in worn plumages black

of crown produced backward to meet brown of hind neck. Seasonal

changes as in succeeding. Size of next.

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; warm brown plumage; ashy gray _not_

encroaching upon sides of head as distinguished from _L. t.

littoralis_.

Nesting.—Not known to breed in Washington. “_Nest_ made of strips of

bark and grass, built in a fissure of a rock at the side of a bunch of

grass” (Reed). _Eggs_: 4 or 5, white. _Season_: June; one brood.

General Range.—Imperfectly made out—probably discontinuous. Reported

breeding from such widely separated localities as the Rocky Mountains

of British America and the Sierra Nevada and White Mountains of

southern California; winters on the eastern slopes of the Rockies and

irregularly eastward to western Nebraska, Manitoba, etc., westward to

Cascade and Sierra Nevada ranges (Camp Harvey, Ore. Pullman, Wash.

Chilliwhack, B. C.).

Range in Washington.—Probably of regular occurrence during migrations

and in winter east of the Cascade Mountains only.

Authorities.—_Not previously reported_; W. T. Shaw _in epistola_, Dec.

31, 1908.

Specimens.—Pullman.

Mountain climbing as an art is still in its infancy in the Northwest and

altho the Mountaineers and the Mazamas are attacking the situation

vigorously we have yet much to learn of the wild life upon our

Washington sierras. But what problem could be more fascinating to a

lover of birds and mountains than that of working out accurately the

distribution of the Rosy Finches in America? They are the mountaineers

_par excellence_, they are the Jebusites of the untaken citadels, and

our ignorance of their ways will ere long become a reproach to our

vaunted western enterprise. As it stands, however, only scanty crumbs of

information have come to us concerning this most interesting and widely

distributed race of Highlanders.

The Gray-crowned Leucosticte is considered the central figure of the

genus, shading[14], as it does, into _L. atrata_ of the Bitterroots and

_L. australis_ of Colorado, into _L. t. littoralis_ of southern British

Columbia, Washington and Oregon, and (perhaps _thru littoralis_) into

_griseonucha_ of the Aleutians. This assumes for the species a center of

distribution in the Rocky Mountains of British Columbia, Alberta and

Saskatchewan where the bird is known to occur. And so because of the

greater severity of the winters in its normal haunts this form is found

to be the greatest wanderer of its group, being frequently driven in the

fall far out upon the central eastern plains or down the “inside

passage” between the Rockies and Sierras.

It was in this fashion, probably, that a colony of this species became

established in the southern Sierras of California, where it now

maintains a vigorous existence separated, as we suppose, by at least a

thousand miles from the parent stock in British Columbia.

No. 28.

HEPBURN’S LEUCOSTICTE.

A. O. U. No. 524a. Leucosticte tephrocotis littoralis (Baird).

Synonyms.—Rosy Finch. Hepburn’s Rosy Finch. Baird’s Rosy Finch.

Description.—_Adult male in summer_: Forehead and fore-crown black;

occiput, broadly, and sides of head, clear ashy gray, color sometimes

encroaching on chin and throat; nasal plumules grayish white;

remaining plumage in general chestnut, chocolate, or rich vandyke

brown, sharply contrasting with ashy gray on hind-neck and sides of

head, inclining to blackish on throat, streaked with dusky on back and

with more or less admixture of dusky on feather tips, especially on

wings and flanks; feathers of upper and under tail-coverts, rump and

flanks broadly and distinctly tipped with pink (of variable shade);

wings and tail blackish; lesser and middle coverts broadly tipped with

pink, the greater coverts, primary coverts and part of the flight

feathers edged with pink or light carmine; rectrices with more or less

edging of pinkish gray or light brown; bill black; feet and legs

black. _Adult female_: of somewhat paler and duller coloration.

_Adults in winter_: Feathers of back and scapulars edged with light

brown; pink edgings of wings, etc., paler, and body plumage,

especially on breast, with more or less pale skirting; bill yellow

with dusky tip (this character is assumed as early as September).

Length of adult male: 6.15 (156.2); wing 4.00 (101.6); tail 2.60 (66);

bill .45 (11.4); tarsus .75 (19).

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; plumage warm brown with rosy

skirtings; ashy gray on _sides_ of head as distinguished from _L.

tephrocotis_.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a thick mat of dried grasses placed in sheltered

crevice of rock at great altitude. _Eggs_: Not yet taken but doubtless

like those of _Leucosticte griseonucha_, viz., 4 or 5, pure white; av.

size .97 × .67 (24.6 × 17). _Season_: June; one brood.

General Range.—Summer haunts include the higher mountain ranges of

southeastern Alaska, British Columbia (west of the Rockies?) and

Washington (possibly Oregon as well); “in winter south to Nevada,

Utah, and Colorado, and east to eastern base of Rocky Mountains

(casually to Minnesota), and along the Pacific coast to Kodiak, Sitka,

Vancouver Island, etc.” (Ridgway).

Range in Washington.—Breeds thruout the higher Cascades (Wright’s

Peak, Sahale, Mt. Baker, Mt. Rainier, etc.) and, probably, the

Olympics. Retreats in winter to the lowlands, chiefly east of the

Cascade Mountains.

Authorities.—? J. K. Lord, Nat. in V. Id. & B. C. 1866, p. 154.

[“Hopburn’s (sic) rosy finch,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885),

22.] Dawson, Auk, XIV. 1897, 92, 177. J. E.

Specimens.—P. Prov. E. C.

[Illustration: _Taken in Chelan County._ _Photo by the Author._

SHRECKLICH PINNACLES.

DETAILS OF THE APPROACH TO MT. SAHALE.]

Lives there a man so brutish that his heart does not kindle when he sees

Rainier lit up with the ruddy glow of the evening sacrifice? If such

there be, he is no bird-lover. Lives there a woman who can gaze upon the

virgin snows of Kulshan, Shuksan, or Sahale, and not adore the emblem of

eternal purity thereon displayed? If so, she will not appreciate the

Leucosticte. This bird is the vestal virgin of the snows, the attendant

minister of Nature’s loftiest altars, the guardian of the glacial

sanctuaries.

One who loves the mountains cannot measure his praise nor bound his

enthusiasm. Their sublimity bids him forget his limitations; and if one

happens also to care for birds, it is matter of small justice to laud a

bird whose devotion to the peaks appears as boundless as his own,

besides knowing neither admixture of caution nor limitation of

opportunity. Here is the patron saint of mountaineers! He alone of all

creatures is at home on the heights, and he is not even dependent upon

the scanty vegetation which follows the retreating snows, since he is

able to wrest a living from the very glaciers. Abysses do not appall

him, nor do the flower-strewn meadows of the lesser heights alienate his

snow-centered affections.

[Illustration: _Taken in Chelan County._ _Photo by the Author._

“THE CHILLY WILDERNESS OF SNOW-CLAD PEAKS.”]

Looking out on the chilly wilderness of snow-clad peaks which confronts

Leucosticte on an early day in June, one wonders what the bird sees to

justify the assumption of family cares. Save for a few dripping south

exposures of inhospitable rock, there is nothing visible which affords

promise of food unless it be the snow itself. And when one sees a little

company of the finches moving about demurely upon the face of a choppy

snowdrift, pecking at the surface here and there, he begins to harbor an

uncanny suspicion that the birds do eat snow. Closer examination,

however, shows that the surface of all snow-banks, not freshly covered,

is sprinkled with insects,—midges, beetles, wasps, and the like—insects

which the spring gales have swept up to uncongenial heights and dropped,

benumbed or dead with cold. These battered waifs the Leucostictes gather

with untiring patience, and they are thus able to subsist as no other

species can, up to the very summits.

The eggs of the Hepburn Leucosticte have not to our knowledge yet been

taken. Mr. D. E. Brown, then of Glacier, found these birds scooping

hollows under grass tussocks on the middle slopes of Baker, above timber

line, on the 7th of June, 1905. On the 20th of July, 1900, Professor

Lynds Jones and myself found a thick-walled grass nest settled upon bare

rock without protection, on the south slope of the aiguille of Wright’s

Peak, at an elevation of some 9,000 feet, and within a hundred yards of

the summit; this could hardly have belonged to any other species.

In July, 1907, knowing that it was too late for eggs, I yet spent

several days searching the precipitous wall which separates the upper

Horseshoe Basin from the glacier which heads Thunder Creek. Adult birds

to the number of a dozen gleaned scraps from the dump of the Cascade

Mine house; but, altho each made off in business-like fashion when

“loaded,” the stretch of the wall was too vast and its recesses too mazy

to permit of exact work in tracing. I therefore examined carefully but

with difficulty several of the weathered fissures, or _couloirs_, which

ran perpendicularly up the face of the cliff. Here, under cover of rocks

which had lodged in the throat of the fissure, or which had weathered

out unevenly, old nests were found, simple affairs of coiled grasses,

and too dilapidated for exact measurement. From one of these sites a

pebble snapped from the finger must have fallen three hundred feet

before striking the glacier below.

Now and then a passing bird, suspicious of my intent, stopped on some

projecting point of rock, to utter the sole note which does duty for

every mood, _churkk_ or _schthub_, a sound comparable only to the

concussion of a small taut rope on a flag-pole. Finally, near the top of

the Sahale Glacier, I got a line at two hundred yards on an occupied

fissure, and traced both parent Leucostictes into its distant recesses.

Climbing cautiously up a sharp slope of ice, my footsteps were guided by

the almost incessant clamor of young birds. Arrived at the upper lip of

the glacier, however, I found that it stood away from the rock-wall some

fifteen feet, and that a chasm some forty feet in depth yawned beneath.

Into this forbidding _bergschrund_, one of the fledgling Leucostictes

had tumbled. He was not more than two-thirds grown (July 18th) and down

feathers still fluttered from his cheeks, but he was a plucky little

fellow, and had managed to scramble up off the ice onto a piece of flat

rock which caught a bit of the afternoon sun. Here, to judge from his

lusty yelping, there could be no doubt that his parents would notice

him, altho they would be powerless to secure his further release until

his wings were grown. A Carnegie medal hovered suggestively over the

spot, I know; but pray, consider,—the rock wall was perpendicular and

smooth as glass, the ice-wall I stood on was undercut. No; even

philornithy has its limits!

[Illustration: _Taken in the Rainier National Park._ _From a

Photograph Copyright, 1908, by W. L. Dawson._

A GLIMPSE OF MT. RAINIER FROM THE NISQUALLY GLACIER.

A FAVORITE HAUNT OF THE HEPBURN LEUCOSTICTE.]

The nest containing the remaining youngsters was set well back in a rock

fissure, concealed by projections eighty feet above the fallen

first-born, and inaccessible to man from above or below. With the

possible exception of the Black Cloud Swifts (_Cypseloides niger

borealis_), who are reported to share at times these same cliffs, it is

safe to say that the Leucostictes are the highest nesters on the

continent.

No. 29.

REDPOLL.

A. O. U. No. 528. Acanthis linaria (Linn.).

Synonyms.—Common Redpoll. Lesser Redpoll. Linnet. Lintie.

Description.—_Adult male_: Crown crimson; breast and shoulders crimson

in varying proportions according to season; frontlet, lores, and

throat-patch sooty black; remaining lower parts white, flanks and

crissum streaked with dusky; above, variegated dusky, flaxen-brown and

whitish, the feathers having dusky centers and flaxen edgings; rump

dusky and white in streaks, tinged with rosy; wings and tail dusky

with flaxen or whitish edgings; two inconspicuous wing-bars formed by

white tips of middle and greater coverts. _Female_: Similar but

without red on rump and breast, the latter suffused with buffy

instead; sides heavily streaked with dusky. _Immature_: Like female

but without crimson crown. Length 5.50 (139.7) or less; wing 2.80

(71.1); tail 2.30 (58.4); bill .34 (8.6); depth at base .23 (5.8).

Recognition Marks.—Warbler to Sparrow size; crimson crown-patch in

adults; no dusky spot on breast.

Nesting.—Does not breed in Washington. _Nest_: a bulky affair of twigs

and grasses, lined with feathers and placed in trees and bushes.

_Eggs_: 4-6, pale blue, dotted and speckled with reddish brown or

umber. Av. size, .65 × .50 (16.5 × 12.7).

General Range.—Northern portions of northern hemisphere, south

irregularly in winter, in North America to the Middle States, and

southern Oregon.

Range in Washington.—Winter resident, abundant on East-side,

infrequent or casual west of the Cascades.

Migrations.—Nov. 1-Dec. 15. Feb. 15-March 15. Yakima Co. Oct. 31,

1899. Chelan March 19, 1896.

Authorities.—_Ægiothus linaria_ Cab. Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac. R.

R. Surv. Vol. XII. pt. ii, 1860, 198. C&S. D¹. Ra. D². Kk. J. B.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. B. C. P.

Those who count themselves familiar with the Goldfinch are apt to let

the first few flocks of Redpolls pass unquestioned. When, however, in

late November, a norther brings down some thousands of these Alaskan

waifs, the bird student is roused to attention. The resemblance between

the two species is most striking in form and appearance as well as in

habit and note. But once the eyes have been assured by a near revelation

of convincing red, that _Acanthis linaria_ is before them, the ears

remark also a slight foreign accent in the _sweetie_ call and in the

rattling flight notes.

Redpolls summer abundantly along the coasts of Alaska, and along the

higher levels down thru British Columbia. The winter movements of this

species are irregular and somewhat confusing. According to Nelson, the

western residents retire into the interior of Alaska to winter, where

they are able to withstand the fiercest cold. The interior birds retire

largely to the south, and under the urgency of bad weather sweep into or

thru eastern Washington in immense numbers. There is also a small

movement setting in a southwesterly direction, so that some birds winter

regularly on Vancouver Island, and a few straggle thru the Puget Sound

country.

[Illustration: REDPOLLS IN WINTER.]

While with us, the Redpoll is nowise dependent upon the forests, but

appears to seek the more open country by preference. It subsists chiefly

upon seeds, gleaning them from the ground with much pleasant chatter, or

seeking them in their winter receptacles. Redpoll again proves kinship

with Goldfinch by eating thistle seeds, and with Siskin by his

extravagant fondness for the alder catkin. Redpoll’s manner is very

confiding; and we are sure that he would not begrudge us a share of his

winter viands, if we cared for them. The author is no vegetarian, but he

is bound to admit that a “simple diet of grains, fruits and nuts” makes

for contentment among the birds, even at forty below zero.

As spring comes on, and the gentle hyperboreans prepare to return to

their native heather, we see the deep-dyed crimson of full regalia on

crown and breast. But during the actual breeding season, we are told by

a competent observer in Greenland, Holboell, the male not only becomes

exceedingly shy but loses his rosy coloring. It is hardly to be supposed

that this loss of color is a protective measure, but rather that it is

the result of the exhaustive labors incident to the season. Nature, in

that forbidding clime, cannot afford to dress a busy workman in fine

clothes. It is noteworthy in this connection, also, that caged Redpolls

lose their rosy tints never to regain them.

No. 30.

PINE SISKIN

A. O. U. No. 533. Spinus pinus (Wils.).

Synonyms.—American Siskin. Pine Finch. Pine Linnet.

Description.—_Adult male and female_: Above brownish buffy; below

creamy-buff and whitish; everywhere streaked with dusky or dark

olive-brown; the streakings are finer on the head and foreparts,

coarser on back and breast; wings fuscous, the flight feathers

sulphur-yellow at the base, and the primaries edged with the same

color; tail fuscous, all but the middle feathers sulphur-yellow at

base. Bill comparatively slender, acute. Length 4.75-5.00 (120.6-127);

wing 2.75 (69.9); tail 1.80 (45.7); bill .43 (10.9).

Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; conspicuous general streakiness,

sulphur-yellow markings of wings and tail, most noticeable in flight.

Nesting.—_Nest_: saddled upon horizontal limb of evergreen tree, well

concealed from below, usually at moderate heights; very variable in

structure, flimsy to massive and ornate; composed of small twigs

(usually fir), and tree-moss, with a lining of fine rootlets and

horse- or cow-hair, rarely feathers. An average nest measures

externally 4½ inches wide by 2¼ in. deep; internally 2 in. wide by 1

in. deep. _Eggs_: 1-4, usually 3 or 4, pale bluish green lightly

dotted with rufous and blackish, chiefly about larger end. Av. size

.67 × .48 (17 × 12.2). _Season_: March-September, but most abundant in

April; one brood.

General Range.—North America at large, breeding in higher latitudes,

and in coniferous forests of the West to southern boundary of United

States; also sparingly in northeastern United States; irregularly

south in winter to Gulf of Mexico.

Range in Washington.—In summer coextensive with evergreen timber, but

especially common in mountains just below limit of trees; in winter

more localized, or irregularly absent.

Authorities.—_Chrysomitris pinus_ Bonap. Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.

IX. pt. II. 1858, p. 425. T. C&S. L². Rh. D¹. D². Kk. J. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. B. E. P.

In designing the Siskin, Nature achieved another triumph in obscurities.

The heavy streaky pattern, worked out in dusky olive on a buffy brown

base, prepares the bird for self-effacement in any environment; while

the sulphur-colored water-mark of the outspread wings barely redeems its

owner from sheer oblivion. This remark applies, however, only to

plumage. In behavior the Siskin is anything but a forgettable

bird-person.

[Illustration: _Taken at Longmire’s Springs._ _From a Photograph

Copyright, 1908, by W. L. Dawson._

SIX LITTLE SISKINS.

“THE MOUNTAIN” AS A BACKGROUND.]

Whatever be the time of year, Siskins roam about in happy, rollicking

bands, comprising from a score to several hundred individuals. They move

with energy in the communal flight, while their incessant change of

relative positions in flock suggests those intramolecular vibrations of

matter, which the “new physicists” are telling us about. When a bird is

sighted alone, one sees that it is the graceful, undulatory, or

“looping,” flight of cousin Goldfinch which the social Siskin indulges

so recklessly.

Many of the notes, too, remind us of the Goldfinch. There are first

those little chattering notes indulged a-wing and a-perch, when the

birds are not too busy feeding. The _koodayi_ of inquiry or greeting is

the same. But there is another note quite distinctive. It is a labored,

but singularly penetrating production with a peculiar vowel sound (like

a German umlauted u), _züm_ or _zzeem_. So much effort does the

utterance of this note cost the bird, that it always occasions a display

of the hidden sulphur markings of wings and tail.

[Illustration: _Photo by W. Leon Dawson._

THE DRAPERIES OF PARADISE.

RAINIER AS SEEN BY THE SISKIN.]

When fired by passion the Siskin is capable, also, of extended song.

This daytime serenade is vivacious, but not loud except in occasional

passages,—a sort of chattering, ecstatic warble of diverse elements. The

bird has, besides its own peculiar notes, many finch-like phrases and

interpolations, reminding one now of the Goldfinch, and now of the

California Purple Finch. The most striking phrase produced in this

connection is a triple shriek of the Evening Grosbeak, subdued of

course, but very effective.

Tho perhaps not numerically equal to the Western Golden-crowned Kinglet,

nor to the Western Winter Wren, there is not another bird in Washington

which enjoys a more nearly uniform distribution than the Pine Siskin.

Its breeding range coincides with the distribution of evergreen timber;

its feeding forays include all alder trees; and roving bands are likely

to turn up anywhere in eastern Washington, if there is shrubbery larger

or greener than sage-brush at hand.

Much of Siskin’s food is obtained upon the ground. City lawns are

favorite places of resort; these birds, together with California Purple

Finches, appearing to derive more benefit from grass plots, whether as

granaries or insectaria, than does any other species. They share also

with Crossbills a strong interest in the products of fir trees, whether

in cone or leaf. Their peculiar province, however, is the alder catkin,

and the tiny white seeds obtained from this source are the staple supply

of winter. Mr. Brown, of Glacier, has examined specimens in which the

crops were distended by these seeds exclusively. While the observer is

ogling, it may be an over-modest Townsend Sparrow, a flock of Pine

Siskins will charge incontinently into the alders above his very head.

With many _zews_ and _zeems_ they fall to work upon the stubborn

catkins, poking, twisting, prying, standing on their heads if need be,

to dig out the dainty dole. Now and then, without any apparent reason,

one detachment will suddenly desert its claim and settle upon another,

precisely similar, a few feet away; while its place will be taken, as

likely as not, by a new band, charging the tree like a volley of spent

shot.

Nesting time with the Siskin extends from March to September, and the

parental instinct appears in the light of an individual seizure, or

decimating epidemic, rather than as an orderly taking up of life’s

duties. Smitten couples drop out from time to time from the communal

groups, and set up temporary establishments of their own; but there is

never any let-up in the social whirl on the part of those who are left;

and a roistering company of care-free maids and bachelors _en fete_ may

storm the very tree in which the first lullabies are being crooned by a

hapless sister. Once in a while congenial groups agree to retire

together, and a single tree or a clump of neighbors may boast a

half-a-dozen nests; tho which is which and what is whose one cannot

always tell, for the same intimacy which suggested simultaneous

marriage, allows an almost unseemly interest in the private affairs of a

neighbor.

Once embarked upon the sea of matrimony, the female is a very determined

sitter, and the male is not inattentive. In examining the nest of a

sitting bird one may expect the mother to cover her eggs at a foot’s

remove, without so much as by-your-leave.

The nest, in our experience, is invariably built in an evergreen tree,

usually a Douglas spruce (_Pseudotsuga mucronata_), and is commonly

saddled upon a horizontal or slightly ascending limb at some distance

from the tree trunk. Viewed from below, it appears merely as an

accumulation of material at the base of divergent twigs, where moss and

waste is wont to gather. As to distance from the ground, it may vary

from four to a hundred feet. The latter is the limit of investigation,

but there is no particular reason to suppose they do not go higher. Most

of the nests are placed at from eight to twenty feet up.

The materials used in construction are dead fir-twigs, weed-stalks,

strips of cedar-bark, mosses of several sorts, grass, fir, hair, plant

downs, etc. The interior may be carefully lined with fine rootlets, fur,

horse-hair, feathers, altho there is great variation both in material

and workmanship. Some nests appear little better than those of Chipping

Sparrows; while the best cannot certainly be distinguished (without the

eggs) from the elegant creations of the Audubon Warbler. One nest found

near Tacoma in April, 1906, was allowed to pass for two weeks as that of

a Western Golden-crowned Kinglet; it was built in characteristic Kinglet

fashion, chiefly of moss, and was lashed midway of drooping twigs four

inches to one side and below the main stem of the sustaining branch,

near its end.

[Illustration: _Taken in Tacoma._ _Photo by the Author._

NEST AND EGGS OF PINE SISKIN.]

The eggs are three or four in number, tho sets of one and two are not

rare in some seasons. They are a very pale bluish green in color, with

dots, blotches, streaks, and occasional marbling, of rufous and brown,

chiefly about the larger end. They vary considerably in size and shape,

running from subspherical to a slender ovate. Measurements of average

eggs are .68 × .48 inches.

Incubation lasts about twelve days, and the young-are ready to fly in as

many more. The brood does not remain long in a family group but joins

the roving clan as soon as possible. We suspect, therefore, that the

Siskin raises but one brood in a season; and she undoubtedly heaves a

sigh of relief when she may again don her evening gown, and rejoin

“society.”

No. 31.

WESTERN GOLDFINCH.

A. O. U. No. 529a. Astragalinus tristis pallidus (Mearns).

Synonyms.—Pale Goldfinch. “Wild Canary.” “Summer Yellow-bird.”

Thistle-bird.

Description.—_Adult male in summer_: General plumage clear lemon or

canary yellow; crown patch, including forehead and lores, black; wings

black, varied by white of middle and lesser coverts, tips of greater

coverts and edges of secondaries; tail black, each feather with white

spot on inner web; tail coverts broadly tipped with white;

bill-orange, tipped with black; feet and legs light brown; irides

brown. _Adult female in summer_: Above grayish brown or olivaceous;

wings and tail dusky rather than black, with white markings rather

broader than in male; below whitish with buffy or yellow suffusion

brightest on throat and sides. _Adult male in winter_: Like adult

female but brighter by virtue of contrasting black of wing and tail;

white markings more extended than in summer. _Female in winter_: not

so yellow as in summer, grayer and browner with more extensive white.

_Young_: Like winter adults but browner, no clear white anywhere,

cinnamomeus instead. Length of adult male: (skins) 4.71 (120); wing

2.95 (75); tail 1.97 (50); bill .41 (10.4); tarsus .55 (14.1).

Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black and yellow contrasting, with

conical bill, distinctive; undulating flight; canary-like notes. Feeds

on thistle seed as does also _Spinus pinus_, a closely related but

much less handsome species.

Nesting.—_Nest_: A beautiful compact structure of vegetable fibers,

“hemp,” grasses, etc., lined with vegetable cotton or thistle-down,

and placed at varying heights in trees or bushes, usually in upright

crotches. _Eggs_: 3-6, pale bluish white, unspotted. Av. size, .65 ×

.52 (16.5 × 13.2). _Season_: July and August; one brood.

General Range.—Western United States, except the Pacific coast

district, north to British Columbia and Manitoba, south to northern

and eastern Mexico.

Range in Washington.—East-side, not common resident in half-open

situations and along streams; resident but roving in winter.

Authorities.—_Chrysomitris tristis_, Brewster, B. N. O. C. VII. Oct.

1882, p. 227. (T). D¹. D². Ss¹. Ss². J.

Specimens.—P. Prov. C.

“Handsome is that handsome does,” we are told, but the Goldfinch fulfils

both conditions in the proper sense, and does not require the doubtful

apology of the proverb, which was evidently devised for plain folk. One

is at a loss to decide whether Nature awarded the Goldfinch his suit of

fine clothes in recognition of his dauntless cheer or whether he is only

happy because of his panoply of jet and gold. At any rate he is the bird

of sunshine the year around, happy, careless, free. Rollicking companies

of them rove the country-side, now searching the heads of the last

year’s mullein stalks and enlivening their quest with much pleasant

chatter, now scattering in obedience to some whimsical command and

sowing the air with their laughter. _Perchic’-opee_ or

_perchic’-ichic’-opee_, says every bird as it glides down each

successive billow of its undulating flight. So enamored are the

Goldfinches of their gypsy life that it is only when the summer begins

to wane that they are willing to make particular choice of mates and

nesting spots. As late as the middle of July one may see roving bands of

forty or fifty individuals, but by the first of August they are usually

settled to the task of rearing young. The nesting also appears to be

dependent in some measure upon the thistle crop. When the weeds are

common and the season forward, nesting may commence in June; but so long

as thistle down is scarce or wanting, the birds seem loath to begin.

Nests are placed in the upright forks of various kinds of saplings, or

even of growing plants, in which latter case the thistle, again, proves

first choice. The materials used are the choicest obtainable. Normally

the inner bark of hemp is employed for warp, and thistle-down for woof

and lining, so that the whole structure bleaches to a characteristic

silver-gray. In the absence or scarcity of these, grasses, weeds, bits

of leaves, etc., are bound together with cobwebs, and the whole felted

with other soft plant-downs, or even horse-hair. The whole is made fast

thruout its depth to the supporting branches, and forms one of the most

durable of summer’s trophies.

From four to six, but commonly five, eggs are laid, and these of a

delicate greenish blue. Fourteen days are required for hatching; and

from the time of leaving the nest the youngsters drone _babee! babee!_

with weary iteration, all thru the stifling summer day.

During the nesting season the birds subsist largely upon insects of

various kinds, especially plant-lice, flies, and the smaller

grasshoppers; but at other times they feed almost exclusively upon

seeds. They are very fond of sunflower seeds, returning to a favorite

head day after day until the crop is harvested. Seeds of the lettuce,

turnips, and other garden plants are levied upon freely where occasion

offers; but thistle seed is a staple article, and that is varied by a

hundred seeds besides, which none could grudge them.

Thruout the winter the Western Goldfinches are much less in evidence,

the majority of them having retired to the southland at that season.

Those which remain are somewhat altered to appearance: the wings and

tail show much pure white, and the yellow proper is now confined to the

throat and the sides of the head and neck. He is thus a lighter and a

brighter bird than his eastern brother. But the western bird has the

same merry notes and sprightly ways which have made the name of

Goldfinch synonymous with sunshine.

No. 32.

WILLOW GOLDFINCH.

A. O. U. No. 529b. Astragalinus tristis salicamans (Grinnell).

Synonyms.—California Goldfinch. “Yellow-bird,” etc.

Description.—Similar to _A. t. pallidus_, but wings and tail shorter

and coloration very much darker; adult male in summer plumage has

tinge of pale olive-green on back, while winter adults and young are

decidedly darker and browner than corresponding plumage of _A. t.

pallidus_. Wing (of adult male) 2.75 (70); tail 1.73 (44).

Recognition Marks.—As in preceding but decidedly darker and browner,

especially in winter.

Nesting.—As in _A. t. pallidus_.

General Range.—Pacific coast district from Lower California (Cerros

Id.) north to British Columbia. Has been taken at Okanagan Landing, B.

C. (Brooks).

Range in Washington.—Not common resident on West-side only, chiefly in

cultivated valleys.

Authorities.—_Chrysomitris tristis_ Bon., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.

IX. 1858, 421, 422, part. C&S. L². Kb. Ra. Kk. B. E.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. B. E.

Goldfinches are a bit of a rarity on Puget Sound. Of course we see them

every season, and one may see a great deal of a particular troop, once

its general range is ascertained; but, taken all in all, the bird is not

common. Neither Cooper nor Suckley saw this Goldfinch, altho

particularly wondering at its absence. The clearing of the forests and

the cultivation of the soil is conducive to its increase, however; and

there is every reason to believe that we are seeing more of it year by

year.

There has been a warm discussion as to the subspecific validity of the

Willow Goldfinch, but those who see birds of this form in late winter or

early spring cannot but be impressed with the striking brownness of its

plumage, as well as by the more extensive white upon the wings, as

compared with the eastern bird. Beyond its partiality for willow trees,

it has no further distinguishing traits, unless, perhaps, it may be

reckoned less tuneful, or noisy.

No. 33.

CASSIN’S PURPLE FINCH.

A. O. U. No. 518. Carpodacus cassinii Baird.

Synonym.—Cassin’s Finch.

Description.—_Adult male_: Crown dull crimson; back and scapulars

vinaceous mixed with brownish and sharply streaked with dusky; wings

and tail dusky with more or less edging of vinaceous; remaining

plumage chiefly dull rosy, passing into white on belly and crissum;

under tail-coverts white streaked with dusky. _Adult female_:

Everywhere (save on wings, tail and lower abdomen) sharply streaked

with dusky, clearly, on a white ground, below; above on an olive-gray

or olive-buffy ground. _Immature male_: Like female in plumage and

indistinguishable. Length of adult 6.50-7.00 (165.1-177.8); wing 3.62

(92); tail 2.56 (65); bill .50 (12.6); tarsus .73 (18.5).

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size: red of crown _contrasting_ with back

distinctive as compared with _C. p. californicus_; general streakiness

of female (and male in more common plumage).

Nesting.—_Nest_: of twigs and rootlets lined with horse-hair, string,

etc., placed in pine or fir tree well out from trunk. _Eggs_: 4 or 5,

colored as in succeeding species; a little larger. Av. size .85 × .60

(21.6 × 15.2). _Season_: June; one or two broods according to

altitude.

General Range.—Western United States from the eastern base of the

Rocky Mountains west to (but not including?) the Pacific coast

district; north to British Columbia; south over plateau region of

Mexico; found chiefly in the mountains.

Range in Washington.—At least coextensive with pine timber in eastern

Washington; found to summit of Cascades but westerly range imperfectly

made out.

Authorities.—[“Cassin’s Purple Finch,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884

(1885), 22.] _Carpodacus cassini_, Dawson, Auk, Vol. XIV. 1897, p.

177. D¹. J.

Specimens.—Prov. C.

Cassin’s Finch is the bird of the eastern Cascades and the timbered

foothills of northern Washington. While ranging higher than other

finches, it shares with them an inclination to urban life, and a full

realization of the advantages of gardens and cultivated patches. At

Stehekin I saw a flock of them gleaning crumbs as complacently as

sparrows, in the yard at the rear of the hotel. At Chelan they haunt the

lonesome pine trees which still dot the shores of the lake, seemingly

regarding their gnarled recesses as citadels where alone they may be

safe from the terrors of the open country.

As the bird-man lay sprawling in the grateful shadow of one of these

grim sentinels, munching a noonday lunch, and remonstrating with

Providence at the unguarded virtues of the all-crawling ant, he spied a

last year’s Oriole’s nest hanging just over his head, while an

accommodating Cassin Finch called his attention to _this_ year’s nest in

process of construction, by going over and helping herself to a beakful

of material, which she pulled out of the structure by main force. She

evened things up, however, (for the bird-man) by immediately visiting

her own nest, pitched on the upper side of a horizontal branch near the

end.

This female Cassin was a wearisome bird, for she sat and twittered

inanely, or coaxed, every minute her husband was in the tree. He, poor

soul, was visibly annoyed at her indolence, not to say her wantonness,

and had as little to do with her as possible. However, he was a young

fellow, without a bit of red on him, and he should not have been

over-critical of his first mate in honeymoon.

On the pine-clad slopes of Cannon Hill in Spokane, there is no more

familiar sound in June than the wanton note of the female Cassin Finch,

_oreé-eh, oreé-eh_, delivered as often as not with quivering wings, and

unmistakably inviting the attentions of the male. Perhaps it is fair to

call this a love note, but it is delivered with the simpering insistence

of a spoiled child.

[Illustration: _Taken in Spokane._ _Photo by the Author._

CASSIN’S FINCH.]

The sight of a singing male in high plumage is memorable. He selects a

position at the tip of a pine branch, or perhaps on a bunch of cones at

the very top of the tree, and throws himself into the work. His color,

crimson, not purple, is pure and clear upon the crown only; elsewhere,

upon nape, shoulders, and breast, it presents merely a suffusion of red.

A song heard near Chelan was much like that of a California Purple Finch

in character, but less musical and more chattering, with the exception

of one strong note thrown in near the close. This note was very like the

characteristic squeal of the Evening Grosbeak, _gimp_, or _thkimp_, out

of all keeping with the remainder—unquestionably borrowed.

The Cassin Finch is quite as successful as a mimic as his cousin from

California. Besides his own wild, exultant notes, he rapidly strings

together those of other birds, and renders the whole with the

spontaneity and something of the accent of the Lark Sparrow. Indeed,

when I first heard one sing on a crisp May morning on the banks of the

Columbia, I thought I was hearing a rare burst of the latter bird, so

much of its song had been appropriated by the Finch. Besides this,

strains of Western Vesper Sparrow, Mountain Bluebird, and Louisiana

Tanager were recognized.

No. 34.

CALIFORNIA PURPLE FINCH.

A. O. U. No. 517a. Carpodacus purpureus californicus Baird.

Description.—_Adult male_: General body plumage rich crimson or rosy

red, clearest on crown and upper tail-coverts, more or less mingled

with dusky on back and scapulars, passing into white on crissum and

under tail-coverts; wings and tail brownish dusky with reddish

edgings. Bill and feet brownish. _Adult female_: Above olive dusky in

streaks, with edging or gloss of brighter olivaceous; underparts

whitish, everywhere, save on middle abdomen, crissum and under

tail-coverts, streaked with olive dusky, finely on throat, broadly on

breast and sides, shading into pattern of upperparts on sides of head,

neck and chest. _Immature male, and male in ordinary(?) plumage_:

exactly like female in coloration. Length about 5.75 (146); wing 3.07

(78); tail 2.28 (58); bill .45 (11.5); tarsus .70 (17.9).

Recognition Marks.—“Warbler size” but sturdier, an unmistakable

sparrow; rosy coloration of male distinctive (without crossed

mandibles) but _streaky_ pattern oftenest seen. Distinguishable from

the Pine Siskin (_Spinus pinus_) by larger size, more sedate ways and

absence of sulphury wing- and tail-markings.

Nesting.—_Nest_: well built, of fir twigs, heavily lined with green

moss, horse-hair, string, etc.; placed in tree (deciduous or

evergreen) at elevation of 5-40 feet and usually at some distance from

trunk; measures outside 5 in. wide by 3 in. deep, inside 2½ in. wide

by 1¼ in. deep. _Eggs_: 4 or 5, light greenish blue, spotted and

streaked with violaceous and black, chiefly about the larger end.

Round ovate to elongate ovate; varying in dimensions from .75 × .56

(19 × 14.2) to .91 × .59 (22.8 × 15). _Season_: first week in May and

first week in June; two broods.

General Range.—Pacific coast district from southern California north

to British Columbia (including Vancouver Island). More or less

resident thruout range but drifts (casually?) to southeastward in

Arizona during migrations.

Range in Washington.—West-side, chiefly at lower levels; especially

partial to orchards and cultivated sections. Irregularly resident but

numbers augmented in spring.

Authorities.—_Carpodacus californicus_ Baird, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.

Surv. IX. 1858, 414. T. C&S. L². Rh. Kb. Ra. Kk. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. P. B. BN. E.

Of the streaked, streaky is this demure and inoffensive bird in the

olivaceous plumage, in which we usually see him, and always see _her_.

But the sharpness and magnitude of the dusky streaks above and below

confer a measure of distinction, even when there is no trace of the

adult crimsons, miscalled purple. This finch is a familiar object about

the gardens, orchards, and parks in Western Washington. It moves about

for the most part silently, inspecting birds and flowers, sampling

fruit, or gleaning seeds from the ground in company with its own kind,

or with the humbler and equally streaked Siskins. While not altogether

dependent upon human bounty, it probably owes more to man than does any

other native species.

Wright’s Park, in Tacoma, appears to lead the state by two weeks in the

early budding of its flowering plants, and here Purple Finches appear to

the best advantage. In the luxuriant bushes of the red flowering currant

(_Ribes sanguineum_) one may see them feeding during the last week of

March. The Finches pluck the flowers assiduously, and either eat the

fleshy part at the base, the tender ovary, or else press out the nectar

just above, or both. A flower is first plucked off whole and held in the

bill, while the bird appears to _smack its lips_ several times; then the

crimson corolla is allowed to drop upon the ground, which thus becomes

carpeted with rejected beauty. Like many related species, the California

Finch is rather unwary, so that one may study his behavior at close

range.

Because the Purple Finch is usually so unobtrusive, we are startled at

the first outburst of spring song. Nothing more spontaneous could be

desired, and the mellow, musical yodelling of this bird is one of the

choicest things allowed us on the West-side. The song is midway between

a trill and a carol, and has a wild quality which makes it very

attractive. The notes are so limpid and penetrating that one is

sometimes deceived as to the distance of the singer, supposing him to be

in a neighboring copse when, in truth, he occupies a distant fir-top.

_Cheedooreédooreé dooreé dooreé dooreé dooreé dooreé dreeetoreet_ may

afford an idea of the rolling, rollicking character of the song, but is,

of course, absurdly inadequate.

A master singer among the Purple Finches once entertained us from the

top of a fir tree a hundred feet high. He was in the dull plumage, that

is, without red; and altho he sang briskly at intervals we were not

prepared for any unusual exhibition of vocal powers on his part. It was

a long time, therefore, before we put the cry of a distant Steller Jay

up to him. Our suspicions once aroused, however, we caught not only the

Steller jay cry, unmistakably, but also half a dozen others in swift and

dainty succession, after the usual Purple Finch prelude. I clearly

recognized notes of the Flicker, Steller Jay, _Canary_, American

Crossbill, and Seattle Wren. These imitative efforts varied in

correctness of execution, and came to us with the distance of the

original singer plus that of the Finch, so that the result was not a

little confusing, tho very delightful when explained.

During courtship this Finch will execute an aerial song-dance,

consisting of sundry jerks and crazy antics, interspersed with a medley

of ecstatic notes; at the conclusion of which he will make a suggestive

dive at his fianceé, who meanwhile has been poking fun at him.

For some reason nests have been exceedingly hard to find. Many birds are

always pottering about with no apparent concern for nesting time, and

Mr. Bowles hazards that they do not mate until the third year. Apropos

of this, one remarks the scarcity of highly plumaged males at all

seasons. I have gone six months at a time, where Finches were not

uncommon, without seeing a single _red_ bird. In fact, I never found the

latter common except in the vicinity of Tacoma.

Nests are placed, preferably, near water, in evergreen or deciduous

trees, and at heights varying from six to forty feet. They usually occur

on a bough at some distance from the trunk of a supporting tree, seldom

or never being found in a crotch. Composed externally of fir twigs, they

are lined copiously with green moss, horse-hair, and string, and contain

four or five handsome blue-green eggs, spotted and dashed with violet

and black.

Two broods are probably brought off in a season, the first about the

20th of May and the second a month later. A sitting female outdoes a

Siskin in her devotion to duty, and not infrequently requires to be

lifted from her eggs. The male trusts everything to his wife upon these

occasions, but is on hand to do his share of the work when it comes to

feeding the babies.

No. 35.

ENGLISH SPARROW.

Introduced. Passer domesticus (Linn.).

Synonyms.—House Sparrow. Domestic Sparrow. Hoodlum.

Description.—_Adult male_: Above ashy gray; middle of back and

scapulars heavily streaked with black and bay; tail dusky; a chestnut

patch behind eye spreading on shoulders; lesser wing-coverts chestnut;

middle coverts bordered with white, forming a conspicuous white bar

during flight; remainder of wing dusky with bay edging; below ashy

gray or dirty white; a black throat-patch continuous with lores and

fore-breast; bill and feet horn color. _Adult female_: Brownish rather

than gray above; bay edging lighter; no chestnut, unmarked below.

Length 5.50-6.25 (139.7-158.8); wing 3.00 (76.2); tail 2.20 (55.9);

bill .50 (12.7). Sexes of about equal size.

Recognition Marks.—“Sparrow size,” black throat and breast of male;

female obscure brownish and gray.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a globular mass of grass, weeds and trash, heavily

lined with feathers, placed in tree and with entrance in side; or else

heavily lined cavity anywhere. Holes in trees and electric lamps are

alike favored. _Eggs_: 4-7, whitish, heavily dotted and speckled with

olive-brown or dull black. The markings often gather about the larger

end; sometimes they entirely obscure the ground color. Av. size, .86 ×

.62 (21.8 × 15.8). _Season_: March-September; several broods.

General Range.—“Nearly the whole of Europe, but replaced in Italy by

_P. italiæ_, extending eastward to Persia and Central Asia, India, and

Ceylon” (Sharpe). “Introduced and naturalized in America, Australia,

New Zealand, etc.” (Chapman).

Range in Washington.—As yet chiefly confined to larger cities and

railroad towns, but spreading locally in farming sections.

Authorities.—Rathbun, Auk, Vol. XIX. Apr. 1902, p. 140. Ra. Kk. B. E.

Specimens.—B. C.

What a piece of mischief is the Sparrow! how depraved in instinct! in

presence how unwelcome! in habit how unclean! in voice how repulsive! in

combat how moblike and despicable! in courtship how wanton and

contemptible! in increase how limitless and menacing! the pest of the

farmer! the plague of the city! the bane of the bird-world! the despair

of the philanthropist! the thrifty and insolent beneficiary of misguided

sentiment! the lawless and defiant object of impotent hostility too late

aroused! Out upon thee, thou shapeless, senseless, heartless,

misbegotten tyrant! thou tedious and infinite alien! thou myriad cuckoo,

who dost by thy consuming presence bereave us daily of a million dearer

children! Out upon thee, and woe the day!

Without question the most deplorable event in the history of American

ornithology was the introduction of the English Sparrow. The extinction

of the Great Auk, the passing of the Wild Pigeon and the Turkey,—sad as

these are, they are trifles compared to the wholesale reduction of our

smaller birds, which is due to the invasion of this wretched foreigner.

To be sure he was invited to come, but the offense is all the more rank

because it was partly human. His introduction was effected in part by

people who ought to have known better, and would, doubtless, if the

science of ornithology had reached its present status as long ago as the

early Fifties. The maintenance and prodigious increase of the pest is

still due in a measure to the imbecile sentimentality of people who

build bird-houses and throw out crumbs for “the dear little birdies,”

and then care nothing whether honest birds or scalawags get them. Such

people belong to the same class as those who drop kittens on their

neighbors’ door-steps because they wouldn’t have the heart to kill them

themselves, you know.

The increase of this bird in the United States is, to a lover of birds,

simply frightful. Their fecundity is amazing and their adaptability

apparently limitless. Mr. Barrows, in a special report prepared under

the direction of the Government, estimates that the increase of a single

pair, if unhindered, would amount in ten years to 275,716,983,698 birds.

As to its range, we note that the subjugation of the East has long been

accomplished, and that the conquest of the West is succeeding rapidly.

It is not possible to tell precisely when the first Sparrows arrived in

Washington, but it is probable that they appeared in Spokane about 1895.

Of its occurrence in Seattle, Mr. Rathbun says: “Prior to the spring of

1897 I had never seen this species in Seattle, but in June of that year

I noted a pair. The following season I saw fourteen; in 1899 this number

had increased to about seventy, associating in small flocks.”

The favorite means of dissemination has been the box car, and especially

the grain car. The Sparrows, being essentially grain and seed eaters,

frequent the grain cars as they stand in the railroad yards, and are

occasionally imprisoned in them, hopeful stowaways and “gentlemen of

fortune.” On this account, also, the larger cities and railroad towns

are first colonized, and at this time of writing (Jan., 1908) the birds

are practically confined to them, Tacoma having an especial notoriety in

this respect because of its immense grain-shipping interests.

Difficult as it may seem, it is true that the English Sparrow adopts the

policy of Uriah Heep upon first entering a town. With all the unctuous

humility of a band of Mormon apostles, the newcomers talk softly, walk

circumspectly, and either seek to escape notice altogether, or else

assiduously cultivate the good opinion of their destined dupes. Thus, I

resided in the town of Blaine for two months (in 1904) without running

across a single member of the pioneer band of nine English Sparrows,

altho I was assured on good authority that the birds had been there for

at least two years previous.

It requires no testimony to show that the presence of this bird is

absolutely undesirable. It is a scourge to the agriculturist, a plague

to the architect, and the avowed and determined enemy of all other

birds. Its nests are not only unsightly but unsanitary, and the maudlin

racket of their owners unendurable. The bird is, in short, in the words

of the late Dr. Coues, “a nuisance without a redeeming quality.” Altho

we assent to this most heartily, we are obliged to confess on the part

of our race to a certain amount of sneaking admiration for the Sparrow.

And why, forsooth? Because he fights! We are forced to admire, at times,

his bull-dog courage and tenacity of purpose, as we do the cunning of

the weasel and the nimbleness of the flea. He is vermin and must be

treated as such; but, give the Devil his due, of course. What are we

going to do about it? Wage unceasing warfare, as we do against rats.

There will possibly be rats as long as there are men, but a bubonic

plague scare operates very effectually to reduce their numbers. No doubt

there will be English Sparrows in cities as long as there are

brick-bats, but a clear recognition of their detestable qualities should

lead every sensible person to deny them victuals and shelter. The House

Sparrow is no longer exterminable, but he may be, _must be_ kept within

bounds.

No. 36.

SNOWFLAKE.