Synonym.—Western Yellow-rumped Warbler.
Description.—_Adult male_: Similar to _D. coronata_ but throat rich
gamboge yellow; auriculars bluish gray instead of black; a large white
wing patch formed by tips of middle and outer edges of greater
coverts; tail with white blotches on inner webs of four or five outer
feathers; usually more extensively black on breast. _Adult female_:
Similar to adult male but duller (differences closely corresponding
with those in _D. coronata_); the white of wing patch nearly obsolete;
the yellow of throat paler and often, especially on chin, more or less
displaced by white (young females even of the second summer are
sometimes absolutely without yellow on throat but the more abundant
white on rectrices is distinctive as compared with _D. coronata_).
Seasonal changes follow very closely those of _D. coronata_ but yellow
of throat is usually retained in winter save in young females and
(occasionally) young-males. Length of adult about 5.50 (139.7); wing
3.00 (76); tail 2.45 (57); bill .41 (10.4); tarsus .80 (20.3).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; _five_ spots of yellow; extensive
white blotching of tail; yellow rump distinctive in any plumage save
as compared with _D. coronata_, from which it is further distinguished
(usually) by yellow or yellowish of throat (If this character fails,
the more extensive white on tail will always hold).
[Illustration: AUDUBON WARBLER MALE, ⅚ LIFE SIZE
From a Water-color Painting by Allan Brooks]
Nesting.—_Nest_: a well built, bulky structure of fir twigs, weed
stems, rootlets, etc., heavily lined with horse-hair and feathers;
placed usually on branch of conifer from four to fifty feet up,
sometimes in small tree close against trunk, measures 4 inches in
width outside by 2¾ in depth; inside 2 by 1½. _Eggs_: 3-5, usually 4,
dull greenish white sparingly dotted with blackish or handsomely
ringed, spotted and blotched with reddish brown, black and lavender.
Av. size, .71 × .54 (18 × 13.7). _Season_: April-June; two broods.
Tacoma, April 9, 1905, 4 eggs half incubated.
General Range.—Western North America, north to British Columbia, east
to western border of the Great Plains, breeding thruout its range (in
higher coniferous forests of California, northern Arizona, etc.)
wintering in lower valleys and southward thruout Mexico. Accidental in
Massachusetts and in Pennsylvania.
Range in Washington.—Common resident and migrant on West-side from
tidewater to limit of trees; less common migrant and rare winter
resident (?) east of the Cascades.
Migrations.—_Spring_: East-side: Yakima, March 11, 1900 (probably
winter resident); Yakima, April 13, 1900; Chelan, April 20-24, 1896.
West-side: Tacoma, April 24, 1906.
Authorities.—_Sylvia auduboni_ Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila.
VII. 1837, 191 (“forests of the Columbia River”). C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹. Kb.
Ra. D². Kk. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P¹. Prov. B. BN. E.
As one considers the Thrushes, Wrens, and Sparrows of our northern
clime, he is apt to grumble a little at the niggardliness of Mother
Nature in the matter of providing party clothes. The dark mood is
instantly dispelled, however, at the sight of this vision of loveliness.
Black, white, and gray-blue make a very tasty mixture in themselves, as
the Black-throated Gray Warbler can testify, but when to these is added
the splendor of five golden garnishes, crown, gorget, epaulets, and
culet, you have a costume which Pan must notice. And for all he is so
bedecked, _auduboni_ is neither proud nor vain,—properly modest and
companionable withal.
Westerly, at least, he is among the first voices of springtime, and by
the 10th of March, while all other Warblers are still skulking silently
in the Southland, this brave spirit is making the fir groves echo to his
melody. The song is brief and its theme nearly invariable, as is the
case with most Warblers; but there is about it a joyous, racy quality,
which flicks the admiration and calls time on Spring. The singer posts
in a high fir tree, that all may hear, and the notes pour out rapidly,
crowding close upon each other, till the whole company is lost in a
cloud of spray at the end of the ditty. At close quarters, the “filling”
is exquisite, but if one is a little way removed, where he catches only
the crests of the sound waves, it is natural to call the effort a trill.
At a good distance it is even comparable to the pure, monotonous
tinkling of Junco.
I once heard these two dissimilar birds in a song contest. The Warbler
stood upon a favorite perch of his, a spindling, solitary fir some
hundred feet in height, while the Junco held a station even higher on
the tip of another fir a block away. Here they had it back and forth,
with honors surprisingly even, until both were tired, whereupon (and not
till then) an Oregon Towhee ventured to bring forth his prosy rattle. It
was like Sambo and his “bones” after an opera.
The range of Audubon’s Warbler is about coextensive with that of
evergreen timber in Washington. It does not, however, frequent all the
more open pine woods of the lower foot-hills in the eastern part of the
State, nor does it occur habitually in the deeper solitudes of the
western forests. Considered altitudinally, its range extends from
sea-level to timber-line. And altho it is at home in the highest
mountains, it is equally so in the city park and in the shade trees
about the house. Under such varied conditions, therefore, its habits
must vary widely.
We do not know to what extent it is resident, that is, present the year
around, but believe that it is quite extensively so. One may be in the
woods for a dull week in January, and see never a Warbler; but on a
bright day in the same region he may encounter numbers of them. I have
seen them playing about the dense firs on Semiahmoo Point (Lat. 49°) on
Christmas Day, and I feel sure that large numbers of them spend the
winter in the tree-tops, possibly moping, after the well known fashion
of the Sooty Grouse.
It is these winter residents which become active in early spring. In the
vicinity of Tacoma, where they have been studied most carefully, it is
found that April is the typical nesting month, and one at least of the
four eggs of a nest found April 9th, 1905, must have been deposited in
_March_. Along about the 25th of April great numbers of Audubons arrive
from the South, and one may see indolent companies of them lounging thru
the trees, while resident birds are busy feeding young. These migrants
may be destined for our own mountains as well as British Columbia.
East-side birds are likewise tardy in arrival, for pine trees are
inadequate shelter for wintry experiments.
The absorbing duty of springtime is nesting, and to this art the
Audubons give themselves with becoming ardor. The female does the work,
while the male cheers her with song, and not infrequently trails about
after her, useless but sympathetic. Into a certain tidy grove near
Tacoma the bird-man entered one crisp morning in April. The trees stood
about like decorous candlesticks, but the place hummed with Kinglets and
clattered with Juncoes and Audubons. One Audubon, a female, advertised
her business to all comers. I saw her, upon the ground, wrestling with a
large white chicken-feather, and sputtering excitedly between tussles.
The feather was evidently too big or too stiff or too wet for her proper
taste; but finally she flew away across the grove with it, chirping
merrily. And since she repeated her precise course three times, it was
an easy matter to trace her some fifteen rods straight to her nest,
forty feet up on an ascending fir branch.
When the nest was presumed to be ripe, I ascended. It was found settled
into the foliage and steadied by diverging twigs at a point some six or
seven feet out along the limb. None of the branches in the vicinity were
individually safe, but by dint of standing on one, sitting on another,
and clinging to a third, I made an equitable distribution of avoirdupois
and grasped the treasure. Perhaps in justice the supporting branches
should have broken just here, but how could you enjoy the rare beauty of
this handsome structure unless we brought it to you?
The nest is deeply cup-shaped, with a brim slightly turned in, composed
externally of fir twigs, weed-tops, flower-pedicels, rootlets, catkins,
etc., while the interior is heavily lined with feathers which in turn
are bound and held in place by an innermost lining of horse-hairs. One
feather was left to curl daintily over the edge, and so partially
conceal the eggs,—four spotted beauties.
[Illustration: _Taken in Tacoma._ _Photo by the Author._
NEST AND EGGS OF AUDUBON WARBLER.]
These Warblers are connoisseurs in feathers, and if one had all their
nests submitted to him, he could make a rough assignment of locality for
each according to whether feathers of Oregon Ruffed Grouse, Franklin
Grouse, Ptarmigan, or domestic fowls were used.
In the wet region the birds appear to nest in fir trees only, and they
are as likely to use the lowermost limb as any. There is little attempt
at concealment, and Bowles reports a nest only ten feet high over a path
used daily by hundreds of people in Tacoma. On the dry side of the
mountains the Warblers avail themselves freely of deciduous trees and
bushes for nesting sites. A nest on Cannon Hill in Spokane was placed at
the lowermost available crotch of a young elm tree near the sidewalk and
not ten feet up—as bold as a Robin!
According to Mr. Bowles, Audubon Warblers evince a great fondness for
their chosen nesting haunts, and will return to them year after year,
often to the same tree, and sometimes to the same branch. “They are the
most solicitous of all the Washington Warblers concerning their eggs,
sometimes coming to meet the intruder as he climbs toward the nest. At
such times the alarm note of the female soon brings the male, when,
should the nest contain incubated eggs or young, both birds crawl among
the branches, frequently within reach, with wings and tail spread, in
absolute forgetfulness of their own safety.”
Incubation is accomplished in twelve days; and one or two broods are
raised, according to locality and length of season.
We lose sight of most of the birds, especially the smaller ones, after
the heyday of springtime, but here is one who, because he has forsworn
wandering, is making delicate overtures of confidence toward mankind.
This year, especially, now that the dense tract of woods north of the
University has been cut out, they linger about our neighborhood with the
matter-of-factness of Bluebirds. The young ones play about the eaves or
make sallies at passing flies from the window-sills, and yawn with
childish insouciance if mamma suggests, by a sharp _tchip_, that enemies
may lurk behind the curtains. They know it’s only habit with her, and
she doesn’t believe it herself. The adult attire is duller now, and only
the yellow rump-patch remains for recognition by a friend. The year is
waning, no doubt of that, but October sunshine is good enough for us—or
November rains. Let them flit who will! Washington is good enough for
us, you in your fir house and I in mine.
No. 76.
BLACK-THROATED GRAY WARBLER.
A. O. U. No. 665. Dendroica nigrescens (Towns.).
Description.—_Adult male in spring and summer_: A supraloral spot of
yellow; remaining plumage black, white and blue-gray; head, throat and
chest black interrupted by superciliary stripes and broad malar
stripes of white; remaining upperparts blue-gray, marked with black in
inverted wedge-shaped spots on back, scapulars and upper tail-coverts;
wings and tail black edged with bluish ash, the middle and greater
coverts tipped with white, forming two conspicuous wing-bars, the four
outer rectrices blotched with white on inner webs in sharply
decreasing area, the outermost chiefly white, the fourth merely
touched; sides white streaked with black or striped black-and-white;
remaining underparts white. _Adult female_: Like male but duller, the
black of crown partly veiled by blue-gray skirting, that of throat
reduced by white tips of feathers. _Young birds_ resemble the female
but the black of crown and throat is almost entirely hidden by
blue-gray and white respectively, and the area of the tail blotches is
much reduced. Length about 5.00 (127); wing 2.44 (62); tail 1.97 (50);
bill .36 (9.2); tarsus .69 (17.5).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black and white and blue-gray
coloration distinctive.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a rather loosely built structure of dead grasses,
silky plant fibers, moss, etc., placed midway on horizontal limb of
conifer 25-50 feet from ground; measures, externally, 3 inches wide by
2 deep, internally 1¾ wide by 1 deep. _Eggs_: 4, creamy white, marked,
chiefly about the larger end with spots and small blotches of varying
shades of brown, lavender and black. Av. size, .83 × .63 (21 × 16).
_Season_: last week in May and first week in June; one brood.
[Illustration: BLACK-THROATED GRAY WARBLERS, MALE AND FEMALE.]
General Range.—Western United States (north to Colorado, Utah and
Washington), and British Columbia west of the Cascades; breeding
southward to Southern California, southern Arizona and Lower
California; south in winter thru Mexico and States of Oaxaca and Vera
Cruz.
Range in Washington.—Summer resident and migrant west of the Cascade
Mountains.
Migrations.—_Spring_: Seattle-Tacoma c. April 12. _Fall_: c. Sept. 1
(Blaine).
Authorities.—_Sylvia nigrescens_ Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila.
VII. 1837, 191 (“forests of the Columbia River”). C&S. L¹. D¹(?). Ra.
Kk. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. B. E.
Black and white and gray are sober colors in themselves, but a skillful
arrangement of all three has produced a handsome bird, and one whose
dainty dignity requires no meretricious display of gaudy reds and
yellows. Warblers are such tiny creatures at best that Nature has given
little thought to their protective coloration. This plain-colored bird
does not, therefore, shun the greenery of fir and fern, and yet we feel
a peculiar fitness when he chooses for a song station some bare dead
limb, gray and sober like himself.
Last year the first arrival in Seattle seated himself upon a projecting
limb of a dead cedar which commanded the quiet sylvan depths of Cowan
Park, and left him fairly abreast of the Fifteenth Avenue viaduct. Here
he divided his time between song and enjoyment of the scene, sparing a
friendly glance now and then for the admiring bird-man. His manner was
complaisant and self-contained, and I felt that his little vocal
offerings were a tribute to the perfect morning rather than a bid for
applause.
The song of the Black-throated Gray is quite unpretentious, as Mrs.
Bailey says,[25] “a simple warbler lay, _zee-ee-zee-ee, ze, ze, ze_,
with the quiet woodsy quality of _virens_ and _cœrulescens_, so soothing
to the ear.” It is this droning, woodsy quality alone which must guide
the ear of a listener in a forest, which may be resounding at the same
time to the notes of the Hermit, Townsend, Audubon, Lutescent, and
Tolmie Warblers. Occasionally even this fails. An early song which came
from a young male feeding patiently among the catkins of some tall,
fresh-budding alders, had some of the airy qualities of the Kinglet’s
notes, “_Deo déopli, du du du, deo déo pli, deo deo pli, deo deo pli_”—a
mere fairy sibilation too fine for mortal ears to analyze. Another said
boldly, “_Heo flidgity; heo flidgity_,” and “_Heo flidgity, chu wéo_.”
[Illustration: _Taken near Blaine._ _Photo (retouched) by the Author._
“UPON THE OVERHANGING LIMB OF AN APPLE TREE.”]
This Warbler is of rather irregular distribution in the western part of
the State, where alone it is found. A preference is shown for rather
open woodland or dense undergrowth with wooded intervals. The fir-dotted
prairies of the Steilacoom area are approved, and the oak groves have
their patronage. During the August migration I have found the bird
almost abundant at Blaine. They are curious, too, and by judicious
screeping I succeeded in calling the bird of the accompanying
illustration down within five feet upon the overhanging limb of an apple
tree.
Of their nesting Mr. Bowles says: “In Washington these Warblers are
strictly confined to the large coniferous timber of the prairie country,
during the breeding season placing their nests midway out on a fir limb,
at from 25 to 50 feet above the ground. Strangely enough, however, in
Oregon they almost always nest low down in the deciduous trees,
sometimes only three or four feet up in a bush. In Washington the nests
are always placed directly on a limb, while in Oregon my brother, Mr. C.
W. Bowles, found them mostly in upright crotches.
“The nest is rather a loosely-built little structure, measuring
externally three inches wide by two inches deep, internally one and
three-quarters inches wide by one deep. It is composed of dead grass,
silky plant fibers, moss, etc., with an ample lining of different kinds
of hair and feathers;—a pretty little nest, tho scarcely as artistic as
that of the Audubon Warbler.
[Illustration: _Taken in Tacoma._ _Photo by J. H. Bowles._
NEST AND EGGS OF THE BLACK-THROATED GRAY WARBLER.]
“The eggs are laid during the last week in May and the first week in
June, and are invariably four in number. They are creamy white in color,
marked chiefly around the larger end, with spots and small blotches of
varying shades of brown, lavender, and black. Eggs in my collection from
Washington average .83 × .63 inches in dimensions, while eggs from
Oregon average .67 × .50 inches, the largest egg from Oregon being
smaller than the smallest Washington egg. In shape the eggs vary from
long to short ovate, and only one set is laid in a season.
“The parent birds are very shy in the vicinity of the nest, the female
leaving at the first sign of danger and keeping out of sight.
“In Oregon, my brother noted that the male often accompanied the female
while she was collecting building material, continuously scolding, but
never assisting her in any way. In that section the nests were greatly
preyed upon by that prince of egg-robbers, the California Jay.”
No. 77.
TOWNSEND’S WARBLER.
A. O. U. No. 668. Dendroica townsendi (Towns.).
Description.—_Adult male_: Pileum, hindneck, lores and auriculars,
chin, throat and upper chest black; supraloral region continuous with
broad superciliary, a spot under eye and a malar stripe broadening
behind (and nearly meeting end of superciliary on side of neck)
yellow, breast yellow heavily streaked on sides with black, the black
streaks thickening and merging with black of chest in front,
scattering on flanks and reappearing on under tail-coverts; upper
sides and flanks and remaining underparts posteriorly white as to
ground; back, scapulars and rump yellowish olive-green streaked with
black shading into black of head on hindneck; upper tail-coverts
abruptly bluish gray; wings and tail blackish with some edgings of
light gray; two white wing-bars formed by tips of middle and greater
coverts; three outer pairs of tail feathers blotched with white on
inner webs in descending ratio. Bill black with paler tomia; feet and
legs brown; iris brown. _Adult male in fall and winter_: Areas and
intensity of black much reduced, pileum and hindneck with much
skirting of olive green thru which black appears mesially on feathers;
auriculars entirely concealed by olive green feather-tips; black of
chin and throat nearly concealed by yellow and streaks of sides
reduced; black streaks of upperparts more or less concealed; upper
tail-coverts color of back. _Adult female_: Very similar in coloration
to adult male in fall; throat often more or less black, pileum
sometimes more extensively black but black streaking of upperparts
still further reduced. _Young birds in first autumnal plumage_ have no
clear black, and the yellow of throat and underparts is paler. Length
about 5.00 (127); wing 2.64 (67); tail 1.97 (50); bill .34 (8.6);
tarsus .74 (18.8).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black on crown, cheeks and throat in
high plumage; in low plumage extensively yellow on sides of head
enclosing area of darker (olive-green)—yellow of throat combined with
this character may afford clew to identification of winter specimens.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a well built, bulky but rather shallow structure,
chiefly of cedar bark with a few slender fir twigs interwoven; lined
with stems of moss flowers; placed at moderate heights in young fir
trees well out on limb or settled against trunk. _Eggs_: 4, white,
wreathed and speckled with brownish and lilac. Av. size, .61 × .51
(15.5 × 12.9). _Season_: first week in June; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America breeding from the mountains of
southern California north to Alaska and east to Idaho; during
migrations eastward to Rocky Mountains and southward to Guatemala,
Lower California, etc.
Range in Washington.—Not uncommon spring and fall migrant on both
sides of the Cascade Mountains, summer resident in coniferous timber,
probably thruout the State; partially resident in winter on Puget
Sound.
Migrations.—_Spring_: Seattle April 20, 1907; Ahtanum (Yakima Co.) May
4, 1906, June 5, 1899; Chelan May 25, 1905. _Fall_: August. _Winter
records_: Seattle Dec. 31, 1905; Tacoma Dec. 4, 13, 15, 21 and 29,
1906.
[Illustration: TOWNSEND WARBLERS, MALE AND FEMALE.]
Authorities.—_Sylvia townsendi_ “(Nuttall),” Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat.
Sci. Phila. VII. pt. II. 1837, 191 (“forests of the Columbia River”).
C&S. Rh. Ra. D². B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. C. E.
What a morning that was at the old parsonage in the Ahtanum valley, when
the shade trees of the five acre enclosure were lit up by the presence
of a dozen of these fairies! Waste acres of sage lay around, or fields
of alfalfa and growing wheat, hardly more inviting, but the eye of the
leader, winging languidly from the South, at early dawn had spied a
patch of woodsy green, and had ordered a halt for the day in our
comfortable-looking box-elders and insect-harboring apple trees. To be
sure it was absurdly late for migrants, June 5th, but they appeared more
like an embassage of foreign grandees, who deigned to make requisition
upon our hospitality, than mere birds with threats of family cares
ahead. So while they sought breakfasts of aphis and early worm, or
disported among the branches in the growing sunshine, I attended their
movements in rustic wonder. Now and then a member of the party paused to
adjust his golden trappings, or to settle the black head-piece with a
dainty shake. It was, indeed, a notable occasion for the bird-man,
inasmuch as these dandies were in “higher” plumage than any yet
recognized by the best bird-books of the day,[26] in that the shining
black, supposedly confined to the lower throat, now occupied the very
chin as well.
There was a little conversational lisping in a foreign tongue, in which
the ladies of the party were included; and after breakfast the males
ventured song.
Seventy-eight days later, viz., on the 23d of August, a southward bound
party visited our orchard. The males were still in song, and it was
difficult to believe that all the joys and sorrows of wedlock and
child-rearing had intervened; yet such was probably the case.
A bird sighted at Chelan on the 25th day of May, 1905, haunted a pine
and a balm tree at the foot of the Lake, singing constantly. The song
ran, _dzwee, dzwee, dzwee, dzwee, dzweetsee_, the first four notes
drowsy and drawling, the fourth prolonged, and the remainder somewhat
furry and squeaky. The bird hunted patiently thru the long needles of
the pine, under what would seem to an observer great difficulties. Once
he espied an especially desirable tidbit on the under side of a
needle-beset branch. The bird leaned over and peered beneath, until he
quite lost his balance and turned a somersault in the air. But he
returned to the charge again and again, now creeping cautiously around
to the under side, now clinging to the pine needles themselves and again
fluttering bravely in the midst, until he succeeded in exhausting the
little pocket of provender, whatever it was.
In June, 1906, we found these birds in the valley of the Stehekin, and
again in the valley of the Cascade River, near Marblemount, breeding,
undoubtedly, in both places. Here we allowed the notes, _oozi, woozi
lêooli_ to pass for some time, unchallenged, as those of the Hermit
Warbler, but finally caught a _townsendi_ in the act at fifteen feet.
There is, to be sure, a lisping, drawling, obstructed quality in the
opening notes not found in the typical Hermit song, and possibly not at
all, but the lilt at the end, _lêooli_, is inseparable from the Hermit
Warbler, and I do not take it kindly of _townsendi_ to mix up the game
so.
Upon returning to the valley of the Stehekin in June, 1908, Mr. Bowles
found the Townsend Warbler a not uncommon breeder. On the 20th of that
month he discovered two nests, each containing four newly hatched young.
Both were placed about twelve feet up in young fir trees, one about five
feet out on a limb, the other close against the main trunk. In each
instance the brooding female allowed a close approach; then dropped
straight to the ground and disappeared. The birds were extremely shy at
first but after an hour or so became sufficiently accustomed to the
human presence to return to their duties within a few minutes after
being flushed. But repeated visits failed to discover the males in the
vicinity of their nests, and, indeed, they seemed to be wholly occupied
with minstrelsy in the tree-tops.
On the 31st of December, 1905, I saw a Townsend Warbler in the pale
winter plumage in Madrona Park, on the border of Lake Washington. He was
with a group of Audubon Warblers feeding in the alders, but attention
was instantly attracted to the _tsip_ note, which was sharper and more
clear-cut than that of the Audubon; and it had, moreover, a sort of
double quality, or central turn, _tsiip_ or _chiip_. This record of
winter residence was further confirmed by specimens taken at Tacoma by
Mr. Bowles the following December.
No. 78.
HERMIT WARBLER.
A. O. U. No. 669. Dendroica occidentalis (Townsend).
Synonym.—Western Warbler.
Description.—_Adult male in breeding plumage_: Forehead, crown and
sides of head and neck, broadly, rich lemon yellow, sharply defined
below by black of chin, throat and upper chest, less sharply above by
black of occiput or hindneck; this in turn shading thru mingled olive
and black into gray of remaining upperparts; upper plumage more or
less tinged with olive-green and streaked more or less broadly with
black; wings and tail black with grayish edgings; middle and greater
coverts tipped with white forming two conspicuous wing-bars,—outermost
part of tail-feathers chiefly white on both webs, next pair white on
terminal half of inner web and third pair marked with longitudinal
spot near tip; black of chest with convex posterior outline sharply
defined from white of remaining underparts. Bill black; legs and feet
dark brown; iris brown. _Adult male in fall and winter_: Yellow of
crown veiled by olive green; black of throat veiled by whitish tips;
black streaking of upperparts less conspicuous. _Adult female in
spring_: Like male in spring but duller, yellow of head less
extensive, gray of upperparts dominating; black streaks reduced or
obsolete; black of throat, etc., absent, white or dull yellowish
instead; sometimes dusky spot of various proportions on chest. _Young
birds_ like adult female but yellow of crown veiled by olive and sides
washed with brownish. Length of adult about 4.90 (124.4); wing 2.65
(67.3); tail 2.20 (55.9); bill .40 (10.2); tarsus .44 (11.3).
Recognition Marks.—Smaller Warbler size; yellow mask of male outlined
against black of throat and hind neck distinctive—female and young
more difficult but distinctive pattern of mask with white wing-bars
usually suggestive.
Nesting.—_Nest_: saddled on horizontal branch of fir tree at a good
height; a compact structure of fir twigs, mosses and vegetable down,
lined with fine grass and horse-hair; measures, outside, 4 wide by 2¾
deep, inside, 2 wide by 1¼ deep. _Eggs_: 4 or 5, dull white heavily
blotched and spotted with various shades of red-brown and lavender.
Av. size, .69 × .53 (17.5 × 13.5). _Season_: c. June 1; one brood.
General Range.—Pacific coast district and Cascade-Sierra system with
its outliers north to British Columbia; “in winter south into Lower
California and through Arizona over Mexican plateau to highlands of
Guatemala.”
Range in Washington.—Not common summer resident, in heavier coniferous
timber only.
Authorities.—_Sylvia occidentalis_ Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci.
Phila. VII. 1837, 190 (“forests of the Columbia River”). C&S. L¹. D¹.
B.
Specimens.—C.
There is a piece of woodland south of Tacoma which we call the Hermit
Woods, because here on any May day may be heard the voice of this
exalted Warbler. The proper hour in which to approach this forest is
early morning, before the winds have begun to stir in its dim aisles,
and while the hush of its nightly peace is upon everything—save the
birds. The soft moss muffles the footsteps, so that the devotee may move
about unheralded from shrine to shrine, as he pays silent homage to
each, in turn, of those morning stars of song, the Wood Warblers. There
is Audubon with his hastening melody of gladness. There is
Black-throated Gray with his still drowsy sonnet of sweet content. Then
there is Hermit hidden aloft in the shapeless greenery of the
under-dawn,—his note is sweetest, gladdest, most seraphic of them all,
_Lilly, lilly, lilly, leê o leet_. It is almost sacrilege to give it
form—besides it is so hopeless. The preparatory notes are like the
tinkle of crystal bells and when our attention is focused, lo! the
wonder happens,—the exquisite lilt of the closing phrase, _leê-oleet._
In broad daylight it is the same. The singers remain in the tree-tops
and tease the imagination with thoughts of a domestic life lived upon a
higher plane than that of earth, an exalted state where all is beatific
and serene. And try you never so hard, with glasses of a high power, it
is a good hour’s work to obtain a satisfactory sight of one of the
uplifted creatures.
In despair, one day, I determined to penetrate this supramundane region
where the Hermit is at home, and selected for the purpose a well
branched tree in the center of the forest and some hundred and fifty
feet in height. The tree was, fortunately, of the tougher sort, and
permitted ascent to a point where the stem might be grasped with the
finger and thumb of one hand. It was a treat to see the forest as a bird
does. The surface viewed from above was surprisingly uneven. Here and
there strong young trees, green and full of sap, rose to the level of
mine, but the majority were lower, and some appeared like green rosettes
set in a well of green. Others still, rugged and uneven as to limb,
towered above my station by fifty or seventy-five feet. My first
discovery upon reaching the top was that the bulk of the bird chorus now
sounded from below. But a few singing Hermits did occupy stations more
lofty than mine. One I marked down—rather, up—fifty feet above and a
hundred yards away. He sang away like a contented eremite from a single
twig, and I was reverently constructing his high biography and trying to
pick out his domicile from the neighboring branches, when flash! he
pitched headlong two hundred feet and was seen no more.
[Illustration: HERMIT WARBLERS.]
Mr. Bowles has hit upon a clever scheme for decoying the haughty
Hermits. He resorts to the vicinity of some Cassin Vireo’s nest
containing young, and studies the throng of small birds, which the
masterly scolding of the Vireos invariably attracts. Upon one such
occasion, having lured down an inquisitive pair, he noticed a peculiar
trait: “After examining me closely and apparently deciding that I was a
new kind of stump, the female commenced feeding; but her attention was
soon attracted to a last year’s nest of a Russet-backed Thrush. She at
once flew to it and, hopping in, crouched down and commenced trampling
the bottom, turning around, putting the material on the sides into shape
with her bill, and altogether acting as tho she had nest-building well
under way. This was about the middle of May, and, as I subsequently
discovered, almost a month too early for her to lay her eggs.”[27]
The nest of this species is still rare. The only one taken in Washington
was found by Mr. Bowles, June 11, 1905, in a fir tree near Tacoma, and
contained five eggs, the only set of five yet recorded. The nest was
placed at a height of twenty feet on a horizontal limb six feet from the
trunk of the tree. Mr. Bowles had seen the tail of the bird from below
as it projected over the brim of the nest, and prepared himself to
inspect “another of those Audubons.” When, instead of the yellow
crown-patch of an Audubon, he saw the lemon-yellow head of a Hermit, the
oölogist nearly fainted from surprise and joy. The bird sat so close
that the collector was obliged to lift her from the nest, and she then
flew only a few feet, where she remained, chipping and spreading her
wings and tail. The male at no time put in an appearance.
The nesting range of this species is still imperfectly made out. We
found it common at Newport in Stevens County, and among the pines and
larches of the Calispell range. We counted them common in the valley of
the Stehekin also, but soon encountered that peculiar plagiarism of
song, on the part of the Townsend Warbler, which queered all our local
conclusions. In order, therefore, to guide the student in further
investigations. I record a few variant song forms which I have clearly
traced to the Hermit Warbler: _Zeegle, zeegle, zeegle, zeet_, fuzzy and
low like that of _D. nigrescens_—this was heard at Tacoma and is
recognized by C. W. Bowles as being the type form of southern Oregon
songs; _dzee dzeé, tzibid-zeedzeé, dzee dzeé_, in a sort of sing-song
rollick: _dzudzudzudzudzeêo zeêo zeet_—first syllables very rapid,
musical; nasal turn to accented notes very like the “ping” note of the
Creeper song, and occupying much the same position save that it is
repeated; _days, days, days, days zeêt_—the first notes lisping, with
slight accelerando, and the nasal ringing quality reserved for the last.
No. 79.
TOLMIE’S WARBLER.
A. O. U. No. 680. Oporornis tolmiei (Townsend).
Synonym.—Macgillivray’s Warbler.
Description.—_Adult male in spring and summer_: Fore-parts in general,
including head and neck all around and chest, blackish slate or slate
gray; extreme forehead and lores jet black; feathers of lower chest
slate-black narrowly fringed with ashy gray; extreme chin usually
white; a sharp touch of white on upper eyelid behind and a longer one
on lower lid; remaining plumage bright greenish yellow to olive-green,
clearest yellow, canary to olive-yellow, on breast and remaining
underparts, centrally, and on bend of wing, shading thru yellowish
olive green on sides to olive-green of upperparts; outer primary edged
with white on outer web. Bill dusky brown above, paler below; feet and
legs light brown; iris brown. _Adult male in fall and winter:_:
Similar but feathers of auriculars and hindneck and sometimes crown
tipped with dull brown; ashy skirtings of throat and chest more
extensive, sometimes nearly concealing the black. _Adult female in
spring_: Like male but slate of hood replaced by dull brownish gray
(mouse gray) above and by pale brownish gray on chin, throat and
chest. In _fall_ plumage still more extensively gray below. _Young
females_ lack the hood altogether being simply olive green on crown,
yellow on throat, etc. Length about 5.50 (139.7); wing 2.44 (62); tail
2.16 (55); bill .45 (11.4); tarsus .85 (21.6).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; slaty hood of male distinctive;
contrast of color between chest and breast usually apparent. A
frequenter of thickets, with a sharp _tsick_ or _chuck_ note of alarm.
Nesting.—_Nest_: in thickets in upright crotch of bush from six inches
to three feet from ground; a bulky affair of coarse dead grass,
rootlets and trash, lined with fine black rootlets and horse-hair;
measures, outside, 4½, wide by 2½ deep, inside, 2½, wide by 1¼ deep.
_Eggs_: 3-5, usually 4, dull white, heavily marked around larger end
with reddish browns and lavender. Av. size, .70 × .54 (17.8 × 13.7).
_Season_: first week in June; one brood.
General Range.—Western United States and British Columbia breeding
south to Arizona and western Texas; east during migrations to western
Nebraska, etc.; south in winter to Cape St. Lucas and over whole of
Mexico and Central America to Colombia (Bogota).
Range in Washington.—Summer resident in dense thickets thruout the
State from sea level to about 2,000 feet elevation.
Authorities.—_Sylvia tolmiei_ Townsend, Narrative, April 1839, 343
(Columbia River). C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹. Sr. Ra. D². Ss². Kk. J. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov. B. E.
We shall have to import the word “chaparral” if we are to characterize
with any brevity the sort of cover this Warbler loves. A great confusion
of willow, alder, dogwood, syringa, ocean-spray, and huckleberry is his
delight. It matters not whether it be a hillside in King County, a
lonesome spring draw in the hills of Klickitat, or the borders of a
swamp in Okanogan, if only there be cover and plenty of it. No more
persistent skulker haunts the shrubbery than this wary, suspicious,
active, and very competent Wood Warbler. Yet even he, when he thinks no
one is looking, emerges from his shrubbery depths, selects a topmost
twig and breaks out in song,—a song which is neither diffident nor
uncertain. _Sheep sheep sheep shear shear sheep_, he announces in a
brisk, business-like tone, totally devoid of musical quality. And when
you have heard him once, or, say, a hundred times, you have learned all
that may be known of the Tolmie Warbler—out of cover. Those who know the
Dickcissel of the middle West will at once be struck with the close
similarity of its song, altho it must be admitted that the Warbler’s is
lighter in quality and less wooden. Practically, the only variety is in
the number of syllables and in the number and distribution of the r’s;
thus, _Sheep, sheep, shear, shear, sheep; Sheep, sheep, shear, shear,
sheep, sheep_; and, a shade more emphatic, _Jick, jick, jick, jick,
shear, sheep_.
For all we see so little of the Tolmie Warbler, the converse is by no
means true. That is to say, the bird does see a great deal of us if we
frequent the thickets. Whenever there is anything doing in his vicinity,
the Warbler promptly and silently threads the intervening mazes, takes
observations of the disturber from every angle, and retires with, at
most, a disapproving _chuck_. In the fall of the year discipline is
somewhat relaxed, and a little judicious screeping in the shrubbery will
call up platoons of these inquisitive Warblers.
Owing partly to the caution of the sitting female, and more to the
density of its cover, the nest of the Tolmie Warbler is not often found.
When approached the bird glides away silently from her nest, and begins
feeding ostentatiously in the neighboring bushes. This of itself is
enough to arouse suspicion in an instructed mind, for the exhibition is
plainly gratuitous. But the brush keeps the secret well, or, if it is
forced, we find a bulky, loose-built affair of coarse dead grasses and
rootlets, lined with black rootlets or horse-hair, and placed either in
an upright fork of a bush, or built around the ascending stems of rank
herbage at a few inches or at most two or three feet from the ground.
Eggs, usually four in number, are deposited about the first week in
June, and Tolmie babies swarm in July and August, quite beyond the
expectation of our oölogical fore season.
A word of explanation regarding the change of name from Macgillivray to
Tolmie is in order. Townsend discovered the bird and really published it
first, saying,[28] “I dedicate the species to my friend, W. T. Tolmie,
Esq. of Fort Vancouver.” Audubon, being entrusted with Townsend’s
specimens, but disregarding the owner’s prior rights, published the bird
independently, and tardily, as it happened, as _Sylvia macgillivrayi_,
by which specific name it was long known to ornithologists. Macgillivray
was a Scotch naturalist who never saw America, but Tolmie was at that
time a surgeon and later a factor of “the Honorable the Hudson Bay
Company,” and he clearly deserves remembrance at our hands for the
friendly hospitality and coöperation which he invariably extended to men
of science.
[Illustration: TOLMIE WARBLERS.]
No. 80.
GRINNELL’S WATER-THRUSH.
A. O. U. No. 675 a. Seiurus noveboracensis notabilis Ridgw.
Description.—_Adults_: Above sooty olive-brown, singularly uniform;
below white or tinged with pale yellow, everywhere (save on abdomen,
centrally, under tail-coverts and extreme chin) streaked with sooty
olive, the streaks small and wedge-shaped on throat, increasing in
size posteriorly on breast, sides and flanks (where nearly confluent
on buffy ground); a superciliary stripe continuous to nostril pale
buffy; a crescent-shaped mark of same shade on lower eyelid; cheeks
and auricular region finely streaked with pale buffy and color of
back. Bill dark brown above, lighter below; feet pale; iris brown.
_Young birds_ are finely barred with buffy above and have two buffy
wing-bars; underparts heavily and indistinctly streaked with dusky on
pale yellow ground. Length 6.00 (152) or over; wing 3.00 (76); tail
2.10 (53.3); bill .53 (13.5); tarsus .85 (21.7).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; plain brown above; white (or pale
yellow) heavily streaked with dusky below; a prominent buffy stripe
over eye.
Nesting.—Does not breed in Washington. _Nest_: on the ground or in
roots of upturned tree; of moss and leaves, lined with fine rootlets
and tendrils. _Eggs_: 4 or 5, white or creamy white, speckled, spotted
or wreathed with reddish browns. Av. size, .80 × .60 (20.3 × 15.2).
_Season_: May 20-June 10; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America; breeding from Minnesota, western
Nebraska and the northern Rocky Mountains north to Alaska and Siberia
(East Cape); southward during migrations over Western States and
Mississippi Valley, less commonly thru Atlantic coast States, to West
Indies, Mexico, Central America and Colombia.
Range in Washington.—Conjectural—should be not uncommon migrant.
Authority.—_S. noveboracensis_, Baird, Review Am. Birds, 1865, 215
(“Camp Moogie, Washington”).
Specimens.—P (Alaskan). Prov.
While we have only one record, and that an old one, there is every
reason to suppose that this species traverses our borders annually,
since it breeds in the middle mountain districts of British Columbia
(Rhoads), is abundant in Alaska (Nelson), and migrates southward thru
the western United States (Ridgway). The Water-thrush should be looked
for in May along the shaded banks of streams, but may possibly be found
along more open margins, consorting with Pipits, with which it shares a
restless habit of jetting, or curtseying, whimsically.
No. 81.
WESTERN YELLOW-THROAT.
A. O. U. No. 681 a. Geothlypis trichas occidentalis Brewster.
Description.—_Adult male in spring and summer_: Above grayish
olive-green, brighter (less gray) on upper tail-coverts and tail,
inclining to brownish on crown and hindneck; an obliquely descending
facial mask of black involving forehead, lores, space about eyes,
cheeks and (more narrowly) sides of neck; along the posterior margin
of this mask a narrow sharply contrasting area of clear ash or white;
chin, throat and breast rich yellow (inclining to gamboge); sides of
breast and sides heavily shaded with olive-gray and breast more or
less washed with same; lower breast and below between yellow and
palest olive-gray; under tail-coverts and bend of wing clear yellow.
_Adult male in autumn_: Occiput more decidedly brown; upperparts
clearer olive-green. _Young male in first autumn_: Mask of adult
merely indicated by black underlying sooty-brown on sides of head;
coloration of underparts duller. _Adult female in spring_: Like adult
male but without black mask and ashy edging; crown and sides of head
olive gray; forehead tinged with brown; region above and about eye
notably paler; coloration of underparts duller and paler, sometimes
clearly yellow on under tail-coverts alone. _Young female in first
autumn_: Similar to adult but underparts still duller and dingier,
breast and sides heavily washed with brownish olive. Length of adult
about 5.00 (127); wing 2.26 (57.5); tail 2.19 (55.8); bill .44 (11.3);
tarsus .83 (21).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black mask and white fillet of male
distinctive. The female is a much more difficult bird to
recognize—perhaps best known by peculiar sordid olive-brownish-yellow
shade of underparts. The pale orbital area also assists, but one must
live with these birds to know them infallibly.
Nesting.—_Nest_: of coarse grasses lined with fine grass and
horse-hair; placed 1-2 feet high in tussock of grass or rank herbage,
usually near water; outside 4½ wide by 3½ deep, inside 2¼ by 1½.
_Eggs_: 4 or 5, dotted and spotted or, rarely, streaked with blackish
and lavender. Av. Size, .70 × .56 (17.8 × 14.2). _Season_: May 20-June
10; one brood.
General Range.—Western United States and British Columbia, except
Pacific coast district, east to western portions of the Great Plains;
breeding southward into Mexico and northern Lower California; in
winter south to Cape St. Lucas and western Mexico.
Range in Washington.—Summer resident east of the Cascade Mountains;
found chiefly in rye-grass districts and in vicinity of water.
Migrations.—_Spring_: Ahtanum (Yakima Co.) March 29, 1900.
Authorities.—Dawson, Auk, XIV. April, 1897, 179. D². Ss¹. Ss². J.
Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov.
Coarse grass, stunted bushes, water, and sunshine seem to be the chief
requirements of this very individual bird. To obtain the first-named,
especially if represented by his favorite rye-grass, he will forsake
water within reasonable limits; but his preference is for a grassy swamp
clotted with bushes, and he does not overlook any considerable area of
cat-tails and tulés. Yellow-throat is a restless, active little body,
and he is among the first to come forward when you enter the swamp. His
method is hide-and-seek and the game would all be his, if he did not
reveal his presence from time to time by a harsh accusing note, a sort
of Polish, consonantal explosion, _wzschthub_,—a sound not unlike that
made by a guitar string when struck above the stop. If you attempt to
follow the bird, the game ends in disappointment. But if the observer
pauses, curiosity gets the better of the bird, and he is soon seen
peering out from a neighboring bush, roguery only half hidden by his
highwayman’s mask.
The female, having no mask, keeps to the background, but she is not less
interested than her mate in the progress of events. When the scout
returns to report, there is often a curious outbreak of discussion, in
which the husband, as like as not, finds it necessary to defend his
opinion with a perfect torrent of _wzschthubs_.
[Illustration: _Taken in Douglas County._ _Photo by the Authors._
A WESTERN YELLOW-THROAT’S NEST.
NEST CONTAINS TWO EGGS OF THE YELLOW-THROAT AND TWO OF THE COWBIRD.]
Yellow-throat’s song is one of the few explicit things in the swamp.
Mounting a weed-stalk, he rubs out, _Witchity, witchity, witchity_, or
“_I beseech you, I beseech you, I beseech_.” Rhythm is the chief
characteristic of this song, and altho a given bird appears to be
confined to a single type, the variety of “feet” offered by a swamp is
most entertaining. _Reésiwitte, reésiwitte, rit’_, was the cadence of a
Douglas County bird; while _chitooreet’, chitooreet’, chitooreet’, chu_,
heard at Chelan, reminded me of the Kentucky Warbler (_Oporornis
formosa_). The bird has also an ecstacy song, “a confused stuttering
jumble of notes” poured out in hot haste in mid-air.
Like an echo from “the different world” came the song of a bird at Brook
Lake. We had just been listening to the unwonted notes of a Desert
Sparrow (_Amphispiza bilineata deserticola_) some hundreds of miles out
of its usual range, and were not unprepared for shocks, when _Hoo hee,
chink i woo chu tip_ fell upon the ear. What! a Slate-colored Sparrow
here in the sage brush! Or is it, maybe, a Vesper, grown precise? Again
and again came the measured accents, clear, strong, and sweet. Not till
I had seen the mandibles of a Western Yellow-throat, and that
repeatedly, moving in perfect rhythm to the music, could I believe so
small a bird the author of this song. For fifteen minutes the Warbler
brought forth this alien strain, _Hee-o chiti wo, chu tip_ or _Hee oo
chitiwew chu tipew_ without once lapsing into ordinary dialect. Wherever
did he get it?
My nests have nearly all been found in June and, I guess, they may have
contained second sets, for the bird sometimes reaches Yakima County as
early as March 29th. One was sunk in a tussock of grass within eight
inches of the swamp water, and I nearly stepped on the female before she
flew. Another was lashed at a height of two feet to a group of rank
weeds, some forty feet removed from a lazy brook. A third, shown in the
illustration, we found while dragging over a dense patch of rye-grass,
some three hundred yards from water. The nest was composed entirely of
the flattened and macerated leaves of old rye-grass gleaned from the
ground, with a scanty lining of horse-hair. It was simply set, or
wedged, in between the stiff, upgrowing stalks of grass at the height of
a foot, and was not attached in any manner to its supports. The male
bird, strange to say, was covering the eggs, of which two belonged to
that contemptible shirk, the Cowbird.
No. 82.
THE PACIFIC YELLOW-THROAT.
A. O. U. No. 681 c. Geothlypis trichas arizela Oberholser.
Synonym.—Puget Sound Yellow-throat.
Description.—_Adults_: Very similar to _G. t. occidentalis_ and with
corresponding changes but throat, etc., rich lemon yellow (inclining
to greenish, whereas _occidentalis_ inclines to orange); more yellow
in grayish olive green of upperparts; ashy border of mask said to
average more narrow (very doubtful). Alleged differences in
measurements are inconsequential.
Recognition Marks.—As in preceding.
Nesting.—Much as in preceding form but birds more nearly confined to
vicinity of water. _Eggs_: 4. Av. size, .76 × .53 (19.3 × 13.5).
_Season_: first week in May, first week in June; two broods.
General Range.—“Pacific coast district, from British Columbia
southward; breeding southward to Los Angeles County, California, and
eastward to Fort Klamath, Oregon; during migration to Cape St. Lucas”
(Ridgw.).
Range in Washington.—Summer resident in fresh and salt water marshes
west of the Cascades.
Migrations.—_Spring_: Tacoma, April 12, 1905, April 6, 1906.
Authorities.—? Audubon, Orn. Biog. V. 1839, 463, part (Columbia
River). _Geothlypis trichas_, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX, 1858,
241, part. (T). C&S. L². Ra. B. E.
Specimens. Prov. B. E.
In our younger days some of us were taught to be seen and not heard.
Among the Yellow-throats the children are taught the opposite. A bird
that can call “Witch-et-y! Witch-et-y! Witch-et-y!” in a dozen different
places thru the swale and in the meantime can keep out of sight while
you are looking for him, is a well brought-up Yellow-throat. We were
taught to tell the truth, but deceit is drilled into the Yellow-throat
children from the time they leave the egg. A human mother insists upon
your looking at her children, but at the approach of a visitor the
Yellow-throat mother sneaks off the nest and away thru the bushes for
the sole purpose of persuading you the home is in the reeds on the other
side of the creek. This may be wrong according to our teaching, but it
is perfectly right according to the Yellow-throat’s code of morals.
If you want to see Yellow-throat, you must go down along the swale or
visit some damp thicket or swamp. He likes the rushes and the reeds
where the Red-winged Blackbird and the Tule Wren live. I once found a
Red-wing’s nest and a Yellow-throat’s home within a few feet of each
other. If you want to see this ground warbler, go to his haunt. He will
see you first but lie down quietly among the bushes. He will likely get
curious and hop up out of the reeds. You may get just one good look
before he darts away into the bushes again.
The male Yellow-throat always wears plain marks of recognition on his
face. He has a black mask extending across his forehead and back on the
sides of his head. The female goes without a mask and is clothed in
subdued tints of yellow and brown.
When the Yellow-throat seeks a home, he finds a thick tussock of grass
and hides his nest well in the middle. It is my experience that when you
want to find his home, it is better not to look for it. If you keep on
tramping thru the swamps and swales, some day you will stumble on one
when you least expect it. Once I hunted for several days about a swampy
place where I heard the Yellow-throats singing. Not a sign of a nest did
I find. Whenever I appeared the birds were on hand as if very anxious to
aid me in finding their home. After tiring me with their deceit, they
sneaked away fifty yards to the nest. A little later in the season I
happened to see the father carrying worms and discovered the young
Yellow-throats just about to leave home.
William L. Finley.
[Illustration: _Taken in Oregon._ _Photo by H. T. Bohlman and W. L.
Finley._
AN ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION.
MALE PACIFIC YELLOW-THROAT FEEDING YOUNG.]
No. 83.
WESTERN CHAT.
A. O. U. No. 683 a. Icteria virens longicauda (Lawrence).
Synonym.—Long-tailed Chat.
Description.—_Adult male_: Above grayish olive-green; fuscous on
exposed inner webs of wings and tail; a prominent line above lores and
eye, a short malar stripe, and eye-ring, white; enclosed space black
on lores, less pure behind; throat, breast, lining of wings, and upper
sides rich gamboge yellow; lower belly and crissum abruptly white;
sides washed with brownish; bill black; feet plumbeous. _Adult
female_: Very similar; bill lighter; lores and cheek-patch dusky
rather than black; black appreciably lighter. _Young_: Dull olive
above; head markings of adult faintly indicated; below grayish white,
darker on breast, buffier behind. Length 6.75-7.50 (171.5-190.5); wing
3.07 (78); tail 3.01-3.39 (76.5-86); bill .57 (14.5); tarsus 1.04
(26.5).
Recognition Marks.—Strictly “Sparrow” size, but because of bright
color having nearer the size value of Chewink;—the largest of the
Warblers. Bright yellow breast with contrasting white below, with
size, distinctive.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a bulky and often careless structure, 7 inches wide
and 4 inches deep outside, 3 inches wide and 1½ deep inside; of coarse
grasses and weed-stems, lined with finer grasses or rootlets, placed
in upright fork of bush or small tree in thicket. _Eggs_: 4, white,
somewhat glossed and marked irregularly with spots and dots of
lavender and rufous, most heavily, or not, about larger end. Av. size,
.89 × .68 (22.6 × 17.3). _Season_: first week in June; one brood.
General Range.—Western United States from near eastern border of Great
Plains west to the Pacific Coast, breeding north into south-central
British Columbia southward to valley of Mexico; in migration south in
winter to Mexico
Range in Washington.—Summer resident in thickets about springs and
streams of eastern Washington; does not deeply invade mountains; rare
or casual west of Cascades (Tacoma, June 4, 1905, by J. H. Bowles;
Sumas, B. C., May 26, 1897, by Allan Brooks).
Migrations.—_Spring_: May 18, 1900 (Yakima county).
Authorities.—_? Icteria viridis_ (Bonap.), Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat.
Sci., Phila., VII., 1839, 153 (N. W. United States) _Auct._ Cooper and
Suckley, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. p. 288 (“Towns. and Nuttall. Seen at
Walla-Walla, Washington Territory”). Dawson, Auk, XIV., 1897, p. 179.
(T). D¹. D². Ss¹. Ss². B.
Specimens.—(U. of W.) P¹. Prov. B.
Structurally allied to the Wood Warblers, the Chat has yet such a
temperamental affinity with the Catbird, that it is difficult, for me,
at least, to dissociate the two birds in thought. Both love the
thickets; both excel in song; both plague their neighbors by mimicry;
and both alike are dearly provoking bundles of contradictions. The Chat
is, perhaps, the greater buffoon, as he is certainly the more handsomely
dressed of the two. Beyond this we must consider him on his own merits.
Ten to one you know him, if at all, only as a voice, a tricksy
bushwhacker of song, an elusive mystery of the thicket; or you have
unconsciously ascribed his productions to half a dozen mythical birds at
once. But look more closely. It is well worth the quest to be able to
resolve this genius of roguery. Be assured he knows you well enough by
sight, for he does not poke and pry and spy for nothing, in the
intervals of song. He has still the proverbial curiosity of woman. Seat
yourself in the thicket, and when you hear the mellow, saucy _Kook_,
with its whistled vowel, bounded by consonants barely thought of,
imitate it. You will have the bird up in arms at once. _Kwook_, returns
the bird, starting toward you. Repeat it, and you have won. The bird
scents a rival and he will leave no stem unclasped but he finds him. As
the bird alternately squints and stares from the brush, note the rich
warbler olive of his upperparts, the gorgeous yellow of the throat and
breast, the white brow-stripe and the malar dash, offset by black and
darker olive. It is a warbler in color-pattern, a Yellow-throat done
larger, but waggish, furtive, impudent, and resourceful beyond any other
of his kind.
The full song of the Chat is usually delivered from some elevation, a
solitary tree rearing itself above dense cover. The music almost defies
analysis, for it is full of surprises, vocal somersaults, and whimsy
turns. Its cadence is ragtime, and its richest phrases are punctuated by
flippant jests and droll parentheses. Even in the tree-top the singer
clings closely to the protecting greenery, whence he pitches headlong
into the thicket at the slightest intimation of approach.
The love song of the Chat, the so-called “dropping song,” is one of the
choicest of avian comedies, for it is acted as well as sung. The
performer flings himself into mid-air, flutters upward for an instant
with head upraised and legs abjectly dangling, then slowly sinks on
hovering wing, with tail swinging up and down like a mad pump-handle.
Punch, as Cupid, smitten with the mortal sickness. And all this while
the zany pours out a flood of tumultuous and heart-rending song. He
manages to recover as he nears the brush, and his fiancée evidently
approves of this sort of buffoonery.
The Chat is a skilled mimic. I have traced the notes of such diverse
species as Bullock Oriole, Slender-billed Nuthatch, and Magpie to his
door. Once, down on the Rio Grande, we rapped on a vine-covered
cottonwood stump to dislodge a Flicker that had been shrieking _Klyak_
at us for some minutes past, and we flushed a snickering Chat.
The Western Chat, like the eastern bird, has small taste for
architecture. A careless mass of dead leaves and coarse grasses is
assembled in a bush at a height of three or four feet, and a lining of
finer grasses, when present at all, is so distinct as to permit of
removal without injury to the bulk of the structure. From three to five
eggs are laid and so jealously guarded that the birds are said to
destroy the eggs once visited by man. So cautious are the Chats that
even after the young have hatched out, they take care not to be seen in
the vicinity of their nest, but a low, anxious _chuck_ sometimes escapes
from the harassed mother in a neighboring thicket.
Chats will follow suitable cover into most desolate places. On the other
hand they do not discriminate against civilization _per se_, and the
Chats of Cannon Hill, in Spokane, are as grateful to the good sense of
its citizens as are the Catbirds and two score other resident species of
songsters. They are, however, birds of the sunshine belt, and West-side
records are very few.
No. 84.
PILEOLATED WARBLER.
A. O. U. No. 685 a. Wilsonia pusilla pileolata (Pallas).
Description.—_Adult male_: Above bright olive green; forehead, sides
of head, and underparts bright greenish yellow, tinged on sides with
olive-green; crown, or “cap,” lustrous black; wings and tail fuscous
and olive-edged without peculiar marks; bill dark above, light below;
feet light brown. _Adult female_: Similar, but the black cap wanting,
or, if present, less distinct. _Immature_: Like female without cap.
Length about 4.75; wing 2.20 (56); tail 1.97 (50); bill .38 (8.5);
tarsus .75 (18.8).
Recognition Marks.—Least,—pygmy size; black cap of male distinctive;
recognizable in any plumage by small size and greenish yellow
coloration. Brighter than _W. pusilla_; not so bright as _W. p.
chryseola_.
Nesting.—As next.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding thruout the Rocky
Mountain district, north to Alaska, west to Cascade Range in Oregon
and Washington and to Vancouver Island; during migrations over the
entire western United States, and east irregularly to the Mississippi;
south in winter over Mexico and Central America.
Range in Washington.—Not common resident and abundant migrant on
East-side; migrant only west of Cascades.
Migrations.—_Spring_: May 1-15.
Authorities.—Dawson, Auk XIV., 1897, 180. (T). (C&S). D¹. Kb. D². J.
E.
Specimens.—B. BN. E. P.
The pervading yellowness of this little bush-ranger will hardly serve to
distinguish it from the equally common Lutescent Warbler, unless you are
able to catch sight of its tiny silken crown-patch of black, the “little
cap” which gives the bird its Latin-sounding name. With _chryseola_ it
is the smallest of our warblers, and it is one of the commonest, during
migrations, on the East-side. The thickets have taken on full leaf
before the bird arrives from the South, along about the 10th of May, and
the northward march is often prolonged till the first of June. So expert
is the little Black-cap at threading briary tangles, that a meeting here
depends upon the bird’s caprice rather than the astuteness of the
observer. Willow trees are favorite stations during the spring movement,
and these because of their scantier foliage afford the best
opportunities for study.
My impression is that the Pileolated Warbler must breed sparingly in
eastern Washington. There is, however, only one summer record to
substantiate this belief,—a bird seen in the valley of the Stehekin,
June 22nd, 1906. The only song I have heard differed from the abruptly
terminated crescendo of _W. p. chryseola_, being rather a well modulated
swell, _chip chip! chip!! chip!!! chip!!! chip!! chip! chip_.
[Illustration: GOLDEN WARBLER
MALE, ⅘ LIFE SIZE
From a Water-color Painting by Allan Brooks]
No. 85.
GOLDEN WARBLER.
A. O. U. No. 685 b. Wilsonia pusilla chryseola Ridgw.
Synonym.—Golden Pileolated Warbler (properly so-called, but the bird,
because of its local abundance deserves the shorter name. Moreover,
altho “golden” is the commonest color among the Warblers, the name has
not been pre-empted).
Description.—“Similar to _W. p. pileolata_, but slightly smaller and
much more brightly colored; olive-green of upperparts much more
yellowish, almost olive-yellow in extreme examples; yellow of forehead
and superciliary region (especially the former) inclining more or less
to orange; yellow of underparts purer, more intense” (Ridgway). Length
of adult males (skins) 4.35 (110); wing 2.18 (55.4); tail 1.93 (49.1);
bill .33 (8.3); tarsus .72 (18.2).
Recognition Marks.—As in preceding; brighter.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a shapely and thick-walled mass of dead leaves,
grasses and vegetable fibers, lined with coiled grasses or hair, on
the ground or concealed at moderate heights in weeds, bushes,
evergreen saplings, etc. _Eggs_: 3-5, white or creamy white, speckled
and spotted with reddish brown markings, well distributed or gathered
about larger end. Av. size .59 × .48 (15 × 12.2). _Season_: May 15-30;
one brood.
General Range.—Pacific Coast district from southern California to
southern British Columbia.
Range in Washington.—Summer resident in western Washington; common in
well-watered forests at lower levels and in thickets from sea-level to
higher mountain valleys.
Migrations.—_Spring_: Arrives Puget Sound April 25-May 5. _Fall_:
Blaine, Sept. 15.
Authorities.—_Myiodioctes pusillus_ Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. IX. pt. II., 1858, p. 294 (part). C&S. L¹. Ra. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. E.
This dainty little Warbler is one of the most characteristic and well
distributed birds of western Washington. Its summer range embraces all
shady and moist woods having varied undergrowth; and it is at home alike
on the sides of the western Cascades, in the swampy bottoms tributary to
Puget Sound, or under the dense spruce forests of the Pacific slope. It
is certainly one of the most abundant birds in the last-named section,
and its golden flittings not only dominate the fern levels but extend
upward into the mossy arms of the evergreens. A brilliant dress does not
appear to endanger the life of this little despot, for he is quite too
insignificant for notice among the Knights of Claw and Jaw, and so he
flashes in and out, scolds, sings, and meditates, by turns, without
molestation. Nor is there any lack of interest in the life of this
golden midget. Have you never wished that you were tiny—oh, _teeny_—with
beady black eyes, that you might explore the mysteries of a moss forest?
that elderberries might look to you like great blue pippins? and madrone
berries like luscious fiery pumpkins? that you might pluck a thousand
sapid meats at first hand where now you know only a few “staples,”
disguised by the meretricious arts of cookery? That you might—Ah, here I
have you!—that you might pantingly pursue a golden maiden down dim
forest aisles, over plunging billows of spiræa blossoms, past corridors
of giant sword-fern, into—Oh, where is that maddening creature! She’s
given me the slip again! Never mind; I’ll pause and sing:
_oooooééééééééooooo_.
Truth to tell, the song just recorded is one of the rarest, a perfectly
modulated swell of sharp staccato notes of little resonance but greater
power and intensity. The ordinary song is a series of monosyllables
uttered with increasing emphasis, _chip chip_ CHIP CHIP _CHIP CHIP_. The
singer is very much in earnest, and compels attention in spite of his
utter lack of musical ability. Late in August, the 26th it was, I
provoked a Black-cap at Blaine by screeping, until he sang merely to
relieve his feelings, _chip_ CHIP _CHIP_ CHIP _chip chip chip_, the
precise type of the Pileolated Warbler, _W. p. pileolata_ proper. The
only other variant in my collection is _tsew tsew tsew tsee tsee tsee,
whhhackity_,—the last note, somewhat whimsically represented here, being
an intense guttural trill very difficult to characterize.
Messrs. Rathbun and Renick, of Seattle, have made a special study of the
nesting habits of this dainty wood nymph, and they report a marked
partiality in its nesting for the vicinity of woodland paths, log-roads,
and the smaller openings in the logged-off sections. The favorite host
is a cedar sapling, a mere baby tree with stem only half an inch or so
in diameter. Of nine nests examined only one, in a bracken, was more
than two feet above the ground, and none were less than ten inches. The
nest is quite a bulky affair, yet compact centrally, composed externally
of copious dried leaves and twigs; internally of fine grasses and
interwoven rootlets. The birds quit the nest unobserved and the finding
of one of their domiciles is a matter of hard work.
No. 86.
AMERICAN REDSTART.
A. O. U. No. 687. Setophaga ruticilla (Linn.).
Description.—_Adult male_: Head and neck all around and breast shining
black; remaining upperparts dull black with glossy patches, changing
to brownish black or fuscous on wings; a large salmon-colored patch at
base of secondaries; a smaller, nearly concealed patch of same color
at base of primaries; the outer web of the outer primary salmon nearly
thruout its length; the tail feathers, except the two middle pairs,
salmon-colored on both webs for the basal two-thirds; two large
patches of reddish salmon on the sides of the breast; the lining of
the wings and the sides extensively tinged with the same color,
occasionally a few touches across the chest below the black; lower
breast, belly, and crissum, white; bill black; feet dark brown; black
in variable amounts on sides of breast between the orange red spots;
lower tail-coverts sometimes broadly tipped with blackish. _Adult
female_: Above, brownish ash with an ochraceous or olive tinge on
back; salmon parts of male replaced by yellow (Naples yellow), and the
reddish salmon of sides by chrome yellow; remaining underparts dull
whitish, sometimes buffy across chest. _Immature male_: Similar to
adult female, but duller the first year; the second year mottled with
black; does not attain full plumage until third season. Length
5.00-5.75 (127-146.1); av. of five males: wing 2.59 (65.8); tail 2.17
(55.1); bill .36 (9.1); tarsus .70 (18).
Recognition Marks.—Medium Warbler size; black with salmon-red and
salmon patches of male; similar pattern and duller colors of female
and young; tail usually half open and prominently displayed, whether
in sport or in ordinary flight.
Nesting.—_Nest_, in the fork of a sapling from five to fifteen feet
up, of hemp and other vegetable fibers, fine bark, and grasses, lined
with fine grasses, plant-down and horse-hair. _Eggs_, 4 or 5,
greenish, bluish, or grayish-white, dotted and spotted, chiefly about
larger end, with cinnamon-rufous or olive-brown. Av. size .68 × .51
(17.3 × 13). _Season_: June; one brood.
General Range.—Temperate North America in general, regularly north to
Nova Scotia, the Mackenzie River (Fort Simpson), etc., west to
southern Alaska, British Columbia, eastern Washington, Utah, etc.,
casual in eastern Oregon, northern California, and in the southeastern
states; breeding from the middle portion of the United States
northward; south in winter thruout West Indies, Mexico and Central
America to northern South America.
Range in Washington.—Rare but regular summer resident in northern
portion of State east of Cascades (Methow Valley, Grand Coulee, etc.),
casual(?) in the Blue Mountains.
Authorities.—[J. K. Lord in “Nat. in Vancouver Id. and B. C.”, 1866,
p. 162 (Colville Valley).] Brewer, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club. V., 1880, 50
(Ft. Walla Walla). D¹. Ss¹. J.
Specimens.—C. P¹.
The “start” of Redstart is from the old Anglo-Saxon _steort_, a tail;
hence, Redstart means Redtail; but the name would hardly have been
applied to the American bird had it not been for a chance resemblance
which it bears to the structurally different Redstart of Europe,
_Ruticilla phoenicurus_. In our bird the red of the tail is not so
noticeable as is the tail itself, which is handled very much as a
coquette handles a fan, being opened or shut, or shaken haughtily, to
express the owner’s varied emotions.
The Redstart is the presiding genius of woodland and grove. He is a bit
of a tyrant among the birds, and among his own kind is exceedingly
sensitive upon the subject of metes and bounds. As for the insect world
he rules it with a rod of iron. See him as he moves about thru a file of
slender poplars. He flits restlessly from branch to branch, now peering
up at the under surface of a leaf, now darting into the air to secure a
heedless midge, and closing upon it with an emphatic snap, now spreading
the tail in pardonable vanity or from sheer exuberance of spirits; but
ever and anon pausing just long enough to squeeze out a half-scolding
song. The paler-colored female, contrary to the usual wont, is not less
active nor less noticeable than the male, except as she is restrained
for a season by the duties of incubation. She is even believed to sing a
little on her own account, not because her mate does not sing enough for
two, but because she—well, for the same reason that a woman
whistles,—and good luck to her!
During the mating season great rivalries spring up, and males will chase
each other about in most bewildering mazes, like a pair of great
fire-flies, and with no better weapons—fighting fire with fire. When the
nesting site is chosen the male is very jealous of intruders, and
bustles up in a threatening fashion, which quite overawes most birds of
guileless intent.
Redstart’s song is sometimes little better than an emphatescent squeak.
At other times his emotion fades after the utterance of two or three
notes, and the last one dies out. A more pretentious effort is
represented by Mr. Chapman as “_Ching, ching, chee; ser-wee swee,
swee-e-e-e_.” Many variations from these types may be noted, and I once
mistook the attempt of a colorless young stripling of one summer for
that of a Pileolated Warbler.
Our Redstart shares with the Yellow Warbler alone the distinction of
representing among us _in ipsa specie_ the Warbler hosts of the East.
Even so, our scanty summer population of Redstarts, confined as it is to
the northeastern counties, appears to represent an overflow of the
eastern hordes, or, perhaps, the van of occupation, rather than
regularly established citizens. I have seen them as far south as Brook
Lake, and as far west as Stehekin only; but Mr. Allan Brooks records a
specimen from Chilliwhack, in western British Columbia.
_Alaudidæ_—The Larks
No. 87.
ALASKA HORNED LARK.
A. O. U. No. 474 a. Otocoris alpestris arcticola Oberholser.
Synonyms.—Arctic Horned Lark. Pallid Horned Lark. Winter Lark.
[_Description of type form, Otocoris alpestris._—_Adult male in
breeding plumage_: A narrow patch across fore-crown with ends curving
laterally backward and produced into a feather-tuft or “horn,” black;
a broad bar from nostril to eye thence curving downward and expanding
to involve hinder portion of cheeks and auriculars anteriorly, black;
a crescentic patch across upper chest black; forehead and
superciliaries pale yellow (primrose yellow) paling posteriorly;
auriculars yellow continuous with and deepening into straw yellow of
chin, throat and malar region; remaining underparts white, the sides
and flanks dull vinaceous streaked with dusky; upperparts in general
warm grayish brown, the middle of crown, occiput, nape, lesser
wing-coverts and upper tail-coverts vinaceous-cinnamon; back,
scapulars and rump grayish brown, each feather edged with paler and
having dusky center; wings hair-brown with paler edgings, the
outermost primary edged with white; tail chiefly black, the middle
pair of feathers dusky, edged with whitish, the two lateral pairs
edged with white. Bill black lightening below (basally); legs and feet
black; iris dark brown. _Adult female in summer_: Like male but duller
and paler, the black areas reduced in extent and obscured by brownish
or buffy tips; yellow of superciliary stripe, etc., duller and paler;
upperparts more noticeably streaked and with less of vinaceous tint on
hind neck and upper tail-coverts. _Both sexes in fall and winter_ are
somewhat more heavily and more uniformly colored save on black areas
which are overcast by buffy or brownish tips; also forebreast dusky or
obscurely spotted. _Young birds_ are heavily speckled above with
yellowish white on brownish and dusky ground. Length of adult male:
7.00-7.50 (177-190); wing 4.37 (111); tail 2.83 (72); bill .48 (12.2);
tarsus .94 (24). Adult female: 6.75-7.25 (171-184); wing 4.09 (104);
tail 2.48 (63); bill .43 (11.1); tarsus .91 (23.2).]
Description.—_Adults_: Similar to _O. alpestris_ but upperparts paler
and grayer, less warmed by vinaceous; no yellow (or merest tinge on
head and throat)—white instead; size about the same.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; black crescent on upper chest; black
cheek and crown patches; feather-tufts or “horns” directed backward.
To be distinguished from _O. a. merrilli_ and _O. a. strigata_ by
larger size and absence of yellow.
Nesting.—Not certainly known to breed in Washington but possibly does
so above timber-line. _Nest_: a cup-shaped depression in the surface
of the ground, plentifully lined with fine grasses, moss, grouse
feathers, etc. _Eggs_: 3 or 4, greenish- or grayish-white, profusely
and minutely dotted with olive-buff, greenish-brown and lavender. Av.
size .95 × .66 (27 × 16.7).
General Range.—“Breeding in Alaska (except Pacific coast district) and
valley of the Upper Yukon River, Northwest Territory; migrating
southward to Oregon, Utah, Montana, etc.” (Ridgway).
Range in Washington.—Common winter resident and migrant east of the
Cascades. Birds breeding on the higher mountains are doubtfully
referable to this form.
Authorities.—_O. a. leucolæma_ (Coues), Dawson, Auk, XIV. 1897, 176.
D². J.
Specimens.—Prov.
The Horned Lark bears the reputation of being the most plastic of
American species—the Song Sparrow (_Melospiza melodia_) being a close
second in this respect. A monograph by Mr. H. C. Oberholser[29]
enumerates twenty-three forms, of which seventeen are described as North
American, and four Mexican, beside one from Colombia (_O. a. peregrina_)
and another (_O. a. flava_) from Eurasia. Of this number the majority
occur west of the Mississippi River, where climatic conditions are more
sharply differentiated, and where, especially in the Southwest, the
situation allows of that permanent residence which is conducive to the
development of subspecific forms.
The situation in Washington appears to be somewhat as follows: _O. a.
strigata_, strongly marked, but showing relationship to _merrilli_, and
likeness to _insularis_, of the Santa Barbara Islands, summers in
western Washington in open prairies, and at low altitudes only. In
winter it retires southward, or straggles irregularly eastward[30]. _O.
a. merrilli_ is related to strigata on the one hand, and to _leucolæma_
(the Desert Horned Lark) on the other, but it curiously reproduces the
appearance of _praticola_ (being indistinguishable in certain plumages);
and also bears close resemblance to _giraudi_, a non-migrant form of the
Gulf shore of Texas. It summers thruout eastern Washington, and even
(doubtfully) occupies the western coast of British Columbia. An isolated
colony occurring on Mount Baker, above timber-line, is referred by
Oberholser to this form, but I should prefer to call it an intergrade
with _arcticola_. In winter _merrilli_ retires completely from its
Washington range, and its place is taken by _arcticola_, sweeping down
from the highlands of British Columbia and Alaska in considerable
numbers.
It is not at all difficult for one who is accustomed to the appearance
of _merrilli_ to recognize these newcomers when they appear, late in
October, for they are decidedly larger, more lightly colored, and show
no slightest trace of yellow. They are much given to wandering about in
straggling flocks, and the mild cries which they scatter freely have a
subdued and plaintive tone, borrowed, no doubt, from the chastened
character of the season. A sitting flock will sometimes allow a very
close approach, but when they do so they “freeze,” so perfectly that the
eye can scarcely find them. The only thing to do under such
circumstances is to freeze also, until the birds begin to limber up and
steal cautiously away, taking advantage, for concealment, of every tuft
of grass or depression of the ground, and giving occasional admonitory
_yips_ to their fellows.
No. 88.
COLUMBIAN HORNED LARK.
A. O. U. No. 474 i. Otocoris alpestris merrilli Dwight.
Synonyms.—Dusky Horned Lark. Merril’s Horned Lark.
Description.—Similar to _O. a. strigata_ but somewhat larger and
decidedly grayer above, streaks narrower and dusky rather than black;
underparts not suffused with yellowish and yellow of head, especially
superciliary, not so strong as in _O. a. strigata_. Length (skins)
6.25 (159); wing 4.05 (103); tail 2.32 (59); bill .43 (11); tarsus .85
(21.6).
Recognition Marks.—As in preceding; smaller, darker and more yellow
than _O. a. arcticola_; larger, grayer and less yellow than _O. a.
strigata_.
Nesting.—_Nest_ and _eggs_ as in preceding. Av. size of eggs .93 × .61
(23.6 × 15.5). _Season_: April-July; two or three broods.
General Range.—Breeding in northwestern interior district of the
United States from northwestern Nevada and northeastern California
north thru Oregon and Washington well up into British Columbia, east
to Idaho; south in winter (at least) to central California.
Range in Washington.—Common summer resident and migrant east of the
Cascades. Breeding birds of the high Cascades may possibly be of this
form.
Authorities.—_Eremophila alpestris_, Brewster, B. N. O. C. VII. Oct.
1892, p. 227. D¹. Sr. D². Ss¹. Ss². J. E.
Specimens.—P¹. Prov. E(?).
A modest bird is the Columbian Horned Lark, for his home is on the
ground, and he hugs its tiny shelters when disturbed, as tho quite
assured that its brownness matches the tint of his back. If attentively
pursued, he patters away half trustfully, or if he takes to wing, he
does so with a deprecating cry of apology, as if the fault were his
instead of yours. If his business keeps him in the same field, he will
reappear presently, picking from the ground with affected nonchalance at
a rod’s remove, or else pausing to face you frankly with those
interesting feather-tufts of inquiry, supported by black moustachios and
jetty gorget on a ground of palest primrose.
The unseeing class the Horned Larks among “brown birds” and miss the
vaulting spirit beneath the modest mien. Yet our gentle Lark is of noble
blood and ancient lineage. The Skylark, of peerless fame, is his own
cousin; and, while he cannot hope to vie with the foreign bird in song,
the same poet soul is in him. Whether in the pasture, upon the hillside,
or in the desert, the coming of spring proclaims him laureate; and the
chief vocal interest of nesting-time centers in the song-flight of the
male Horned Lark.
The song itself is, perhaps, nothing remarkable, a little ditty or
succession of sprightly syllables which have no considerable resonance
or modulation, altho they quite defy vocalization; yet such are the
circumstances attending its delivery that it is set down by everyone as
“pleasing,” while for the initiated it possesses a charm which is quite
unique. _Twidge-widge, widgity, widgy-widge_, conveys no idea of the
tone-quality, indeed, but may serve to indicate the proportion and tempo
of the common song; while _Twidge, widgity, eelooy, eelooy, idgity,
eelooy, eew_, may serve the same purpose for the rare ecstasy song. The
bird sometimes sings from a fence post, a sage bush, or even from a
hummock on the ground, but usually the impulse of song takes him up into
the free air. Here at almost any hour of the day he may be seen poising
at various heights, like a miniature hawk, and sending down tender words
of greeting and cheer to the little wife who broods below.
[Illustration: COLUMBIAN HORNED LARKS.]
It is, however, at the sacred hour of sunset that the soul of the
heavenly singer takes wing for its ethereal abode. The sun is just
sinking; the faithful spouse has settled herself to her gentle task for
the night; and the bird-man has lain down in the shadow of the fence to
gaze at the sky. The bird gives himself to the buoyant influences of the
trembling air and mounts aloft by easy gradations. As he rises he swings
round in a wide, loose circle, singing softly the while. At the end of
every little height he pauses and hovers and sends down the full voiced
song. Up and up he goes, the song becoming tenderer, sweeter, more
refined and subtly suggestive of all a bird may seek in the lofty blue.
As he fades from the unaided sight I train my glasses on him and still
witness the heavenward spirals. I lower the glasses. Ah! I have lost him
now! Still there float down to us, the enraptured wife and me, those
most ethereal strains, sublimated past all taint of earth, beatific,
elysian. Ah! surely, we have lost him! He has gone to join the angels.
“Chirriquita, on the nest, we have lost him.” “Never fear,” she answers;
“Hark!” Stronger grows the dainty music once again. Stronger! Stronger!
Dropping out of the boundless darkening blue, still by easy flights, a
song for every step of Jacob’s ladder, our messenger is coming down. But
the ladder does not rest on earth. When about two hundred feet high the
singer suddenly folds his wings and drops like a plummet to the ground.
Within the last dozen feet he checks himself and lights gracefully near
his nest. The bird-man steals softly away to dream of love and God, and
to waken on the morrow of earth, refreshed.
The Columbian Horned Lark enjoys a wide distribution thruout eastern
Washington during the nesting season, the only requirement of the bird
being open country. The convenience of water is no object, and the bird
favors the undifferentiated wastes of sage, rather than the cultivated
fields. Elevated situations are especially attractive, and thousands of
these Horned Larks nest along barren, wind-swept ridges and on the
smaller mountains where no other species can be found.
No. 89.
PACIFIC HORNED LARK.
A. O. U. No. 474 g. Otocoris alpestris strigata Henshaw.
Synonym.—Streaked Horned Lark.
Description.—Similar to _O. alpestris_ but darker and much smaller,
above streaked broadly with black and tinged with buffy; nape, rump
and bend of wing more rufescent; underparts usually more or less
suffused with yellowish. Adult female more strongly and handsomely
marked than that of any other form. Length of adult male (skins) 5.98
(52); wing 3.85 (98); tail 2.59 (65.8); bill .44 (11.3); tarsus .82
(20.8).
Recognition Marks.—As in preceding; smaller, darker and more yellow
than other local forms.
Nesting.—_Nest_ and _eggs_ as in preceding. _Season_: second week in
May, second week in June; two broods.
General Range.—Breeding in Pacific Coast district of Oregon,
Washington and British Columbia; “migrating to eastern Oregon and
Washington, and northern California (Red Bluff; San Francisco)”
(Ridgway).
Range in Washington.—Found breeding only on prairies west of Cascades,
therefore chiefly confined to Pierce, Thurston and Chehalis Counties;
said to winter on East-side.
Migrations.—_Spring_: last week in February; Tacoma, February 25,
1905, February 10, 1908.
Authorities.—_Eremophila cornuta_ Boie, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.,
IX. 1858, 404, 405. (T). C&S. L¹. Ra. B.
Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. B.
The prairies of Pierce, Thurston, and Chehalis Counties, so often
referred to in these pages, are of comparatively recent formation—mere
gravel beds leveled off by the action of a retreating sea—and so thoroly
washed thru portions of their area as to be capable of supporting little
else than a carpet of moss. The wanton recklessness of the Pacific
Horned Larks, which inhabit these open stretches, is really but one
degree removed from the modesty of their more fortunate kinfolk across
the Cascades. It is modesty without opportunity; and that easily becomes
shamelessness. For here the ground is of an uncompromising green, and
the “cover,” afforded by slight depressions in the moss, is usually
unworthy of the name.
The perfection of green barrenness was attained in the golf-links of
South Tacoma, before they were surrendered to the demands of the growing
city. Yet this was the very place where the Horned Larks appeared to the
best advantage. Returning, as they did, about the 25th of February, in
good seasons, they disported themselves like mad Pixies for a month or
so, engaging in amorous pursuit and frequent song-flight; until in some
way, late in April, domestic order began to emerge from the chaos of
rival claims, and little homes dotted the prairie, where belted squires
and red-jacketed ladies pursued the twinkling gutta-percha. The conflict
of interests, avian and human, was sometimes disastrous to the birds.
Mr. Bowles records three instances in which Larks were killed by flying
golf balls; and another gentleman, himself a devotee of the game, tells
me he once saw a bird struck dead in mid-air.
By the spring of 1906 matters had gone from bad to worse. The golf-links
became a sort of common, despairingly resorted to by a few enthusiasts
and a motley laity. The northwest portion of the section was staked out
into lots, and the whole area was criss-crossed by roads and paths,
whereby workmen, school-boys and delivery wagons hastened to and fro.
Then it became the special pasture of a band of fifty cows, the lean
kine of Pharaoh’s dream multiplied by seven; and to the terrors of two
hundred heedless hoofs was later added a flock of sheep, being fattened
for sacrifice at a neighboring slaughter-house. This common was also a
favorite romping ground for children, while dogs simply went crazy upon
it. I saw one rabid beast in a delirium of unfettered bliss do off about
six miles in twice as many minutes, with a Horned Lark, flying low, as
the invariable object of his chase. When to such conditions as these was
added the scantiness of cover, one marveled indeed that the daffy Horned
Lark still persisted upon his ancient heritage.
[Illustration: _Taken at South Tacoma._ _Photo by Dawson and Bowles._
THE NEST ON THE GOLF LINKS.]
Yet on the 11th of April (the earliest record by far), in the barest of
it, we marked a deep rounded cavity which Mr. Bowles declared belonged
to the Streaked Horned Lark. Returning on the 27th, we found that the
hole in the ground had become a bump instead. The bird, grown callous
amid the impending evils, or else frankly intending to warn off
trespassers, had filled the cavity full to overflowing, and had erected
upon its site a monumental pile visible at a hundred yards. So zealous
had the bird’s efforts been that the crest of the nest stuck up two and
a half inches above the close-cropped landscape, and the bottom of the
nest was above the ground. This creation was quite ten inches across,
while it included upon its skirts bits of sod, cow-chips and pebbles,—a
motley array, possibly designed to distract attention from the
dun-colored eggs which the nest contained. The most lavish display of
this sort of brumagem marked a runway of approach, offset by a
corresponding depression upon the other side. The nest was composed
chiefly of dried grasses and weed-stalks with soft dead leaves, and was
lined, not very carefully, with grass, dried leaves, and a single white
chicken-feather.[31]
Once the attention of the oölogist was directed to this structure, it
rose from the plain like a pyramid of Cheops before his strained
anxieties. It was torture to have to leave it for half an hour. How
could that school-boy pass at twenty yards and not see it! Then, when I
returned to reconnoiter, the dear cattle were just being turned loose
for the morning, and they, forsooth, must straggle past it. At the end
of another hour, unable longer to endure the suspense, I returned to
perform the last offices. The band of sheep was out then, and they were
drifting so perilously close, that I ran the last hundred yards to head
them off, and none too soon. Yet that precious monument of simplicity
held three eggs, unharmed until the advent of the man, who wrought the
ruin surely, in the name of—Science(?). Consistency, thou art a jewel
found in no egg-collector’s cabinet!
[Illustration: _Taken near Tacoma._ _Photo by J. H. Bowles._
NEST AND EGGS OF PACIFIC HORNED LARK.]
The nest of the Pacific Horned Lark is not often concealed, but usually
it does not more than fill the hollow of some cavity, natural or
artificial,—a wheel-rut, a footprint of horse or cow, a cavity left by
an upturned stone, or, as in one instance, the bottom of an unused
golf-hole. The only attempt at concealment noted was where the nest had
been placed under the fold of a large strip of tar paper, most of which
had become tightly plastered to the ground.
In spite of the comparatively mild weather prevailing in April, eggs are
not often laid before the second week in May, and a second set is
deposited about the second week in June. The number of eggs in a set
varies from two to four, three being most commonly found. In color the
ground is grayish white, while dots of greenish gray or reddish gray are
now gathered in a heavy wreath about the larger end, and now regularly
distributed over the entire surface—sometimes so heavily as to obscure
the ground. The eggs are often very perceptibly glossed and there is
frequently a haunting greenish or yellowish tinge which diffuses itself
over the whole—an atmosphere, as the artist would say. Variation in size
runs from ovate to elongate oval, and measurements range from .93 × .60
to .81 × .58.
Horned Larks owe their preservation chiefly to the wariness of the
female, for she flushes at long distances. Either she will slip off
quietly and sneak at thirty yards, or else flush straight at a hundred.
When the nest is discovered she is quite as likely to ignore the
intruder, and seldom ventures near enough to betray ownership. On the
other hand, given patience and a pair of strong binoculars, “tracking”
is not a difficult accomplishment.
_Motacillidæ_—The Wagtails and Pipits
No. 90.
AMERICAN PIPIT.
A. O. U. No. 697. Anthus rubescens (Tunstall).
Synonyms.—American Titlark. Brown Lark. Louisiana Pipit.
Description.—_Adult in spring_: Above soft and dark grayish brown with
an olive shade; feathers of crown and back with darker centers; wings
and tail dusky with paler edging, the pale tips of coverts forming two
indistinct bars; outer pair of tail-feathers extensively white; next
pair white-tipped; superciliary line, eye-ring and underparts light
grayish brown or buffy, the latter streaked with dusky except on
middle of throat and lower belly,—heavily on sides of throat and
across breast, narrowly on lower breast and sides. _Winter plumage_:
Above, browner; below, duller buffy; more broadly streaked on breast.
Length 6.00-7.00 (152.4-177.8); wing 3.37 (85.6); tail 2.53 (64.3);
bill .46 (11.7); tarsus .90 (22.9).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; brown above; buffy or brownish with
dusky spots below; best known by _tlip-yip_ notes repeated when rising
from ground or flying overhead.
Nesting.—_Nest_: at high altitudes, a thick-walled structure of
grasses and moss set into deep excavation in sloping hillside or in
cranny of cliff. _Eggs_: 4-6, usually 5, so heavily speckled and
spotted with reddish or dark brown as almost entirely to obscure the
whitish ground color. Often, except upon close examination, the effect
is of a uniform chocolate-colored egg. Av. size .77 × .57 (19.6 ×
14.5). _Season_: June 15-July 25; one brood.
General Range.—North America at large, breeding in the higher parts of
the Rocky and Cascade Mountains and in sub-Arctic regions; wintering
in the Gulf States, Mexico, and Central America. Accidental in Europe.
Range in Washington.—Abundant during migrations; common summer
resident in Cascade Mountains above timber-line; winters sparingly
west of mountains.
Migrations.—Nomadic; retires from mountains early in September; moves
southward across State Oct. 15-Dec. 15; northward April 1-May 15.
Authorities.—? Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci., Phila., VIII., 1839,
154 (Columbia River). _Anthus ludovicianus_, Licht. Baird, Rep. Pac.
R. R. Surv. IX. pt. II., 1858, p. 233. T. C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹. Sr. Ra. D².
J. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P¹. Prov. B. E.
The American Pipit does not sustain the habitual dignity of the boreal
breed. He is no clown, indeed, like our Chat, nor does he quite belong
to the awkward squad with young Blackbirds; a trim form and a natty suit
often save him from well merited derision, but all close observers will
agree that there is a screw loose in his make-up somewhere. The whole
Pipit race seems to be struggling under a strange inhibitory spell, cast
upon some ancestor, perhaps, by one knows not what art of nodding
heather bells or potency of subtly distilled Arctic moonshine. As the
flock comes straggling down from the northland they utter unceasing
_yips_ of mild astonishment and self-reproach at their apparent
inability to decide what to do next. Their indecision is especially
exasperating as one rides along a trail which is closely flanked by a
primitive rail fence, as I have often done in Okanogan County. One
starts up ahead of you and thinks he will settle on the top rail and
watch you go by. As his feet near the rail he decides he won’t, after
all, but that he will go a few feet farther before alighting. If he
actually does alight he instantly tumbles off with a startled _yip_, as
tho the rail were hot and he had burnt his toes. Then he tries a post
with no better success, until you get disgusted with such silly
vacillation and inane yipping, and clap spurs to your horse, resolved to
escape the annoyance of having to follow such dubious fortunes.
In social flight the Pipits straggle out far apart, so as to allow
plenty of room for their chronic St. Vitus’s dance to jerk them hither
or thither or up or down, without clashing with their fellows. Only a
small percentage of those which annually traverse the State fly low
enough to be readily seen; but when they do they are jolting along over
the landscape and complaining at every other step. The note is best
rendered _tlip-yip_, less accurately _pip-it_ (whence of course the
name); and a shower of these petulant sounds comes spattering down out
of the sky when the birds themselves are nearly or quite invisible.
The fall migrations of this species appear to have a compound character.
Birds which make their appearance early in September are likely to
quarter themselves in a given locality for several weeks at a time, tho
whether these represent the first refugees from the high North, or mark
the practical retreat of our own mountaineers, we cannot tell. Late
comers pass thru more rapidly, and the main host clears by late October,
but stragglers may be found in any open lowland situation until late
November. They are especially partial to prairies, close-cropped
pastures, the gravelly shores and bars of rivers, lakes and ponds, and
the shingle of sea-beaches. At Semiahmoo the great ricks of
barnacle-covered piles, which are annually corded on shore at the close
of the fishing season, are regarded in the light of a Pipit hotel. The
birds not only shelter among the timbers, but, after the fashion of
Sandpipers, glean busily from their surfaces where the marine creatures,
thru exposure to the air, are dying a fragrant death.
The return movement of spring sets in early, and the main flight is more
direct. But here there is suspicion of desultory wintering on the one
hand (I have a record of forty birds seen on the Nisqually Flats, Feb.
10, 1906; and Fannin says they sometimes winter on Vancouver Island) and
there is always a small percentage of loiterers who linger into May.
Spring flocks may be looked for in freshly-plowed fields, where they
feed attentively, often in absolute silence, moving about with
“graceful, gliding walk, tilting the body and wagging the tail at each
step, much in the manner of a _Seiurus_.”
Pipits are boreal breeders; but inasmuch as our own superb Alps claim
kinship with the Arctic, there is no more favorable spot to study the
nesting of the Pipits than upon the Cascades of northern Washington. At
home the Pipit is a very different creature from the straggler of the
long trail. On his native heather, surrounded by dwarfed fir trees,
melting snow-fields, and splendid vistas of peak and cloud, he knows
exactly what he wants and is quite capable of flying in a straight line.
[Illustration: _Taken in Skagit County._ _Photo by W. L. Dawson._
OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS.
A CHARACTERISTIC SUMMER HAUNT OF THE PIPIT.]
All is bustle and stir along Ptarmigan Ridge,—the transverse rock-rib of
Cascade Pass which divides the waters of Stehekin, Chelan, and the
Columbia from those of the Cascade, Skagit, and Puget Sound. The season
is late, June 23, 1906, and the snows have only just released the ridge
at 6000 feet elevation. Slate-colored Sparrows are carolling tenderly
from the thickets of stunted fir. Sierra Hermit Thrushes, those
minstrels of heaven, flit elusively from clump to clump or pause to
rehearse from their depths some spiritual strain. Leucostictes look in
upon the scene in passing, but they hasten at a prudent thought to their
loftier ramparts. The real busybodies of the place are the Pipits.
Females, lisping suspiciously, hurry to and fro, discussing locations,
matching straws, playfully rebuking over-bold swains, and hastily
gulping insects on the side. The male birds hover about their mates
solicitously—never helping, of course—or else sing lustily from
prominent knolls and rocks.
The Pipit song in many of its phases is strikingly like that of the Rock
Wren (_Salpinctes obsoletus_). It has the same vivacity and ringing
quality, tho perhaps less power, and the similarity extends to the very
phrasing. An alarm note runs _pichoo pichoo pichoo_, given six or seven
times, rapidly and emphatically; while another, _wee iich, wee iich, wee
iich_, is rendered, unless my eyes deceive me, with the same springing
motion which characterizes the Wren. An ecstacy song of courting time
(heard on Mount Rainier) runs _twiss twiss twiss twiss_ (_ad lib._),
uttered as rapidly as the syllables may be said. It is delivered as the
bird describes great slow circles in mid-air; and when the singer is
exhausted by his efforts, he falls like a spent rocket to the ground.
For all this activity, however, the nests are hard to find. Finally, as
we keep ascending the ridge, bare save for occasional patches of snow in
the hollows, Jack spies an old nest, last year’s of course, in the
recess of a soil tussock, completely overarched by earth. The secret is
out, and we can search with more intelligence now. Soon I flush a female
at her task of incubation. She has been digging out a pocket, or cave,
in a moist bank which the snow had set free not above three days before.
The earth removed from the interior is piled up for the lower rim, or
wall, and a few rootlets, doubtless those secured in the process of
excavation, have been culled out and laid horizontally along the edge of
the dirt. The hole is about as large as my double fists, and the nest,
when completed, evidently cannot be injured by falling snow.
In July of the following year, work was carried on in the Upper
Horseshoe Basin, a few miles further north. The song period was
evidently past, but a nest of five eggs slightly incubated, was taken
from a heather slope on the 20th of the month. The sitting bird flushed
from under the beating stick, but only after I had passed.
On the 17th, a venturesome climb over the rock-wall which fronts the
glacier of the Upper Basin, had yielded only a last year’s Leucosticte’s
nest. As I was nearly down the cliff and breathing easier, a Pipit flew
unannounced from a spur of the cliff upon which I was standing to the
one beyond. Evidently she had heard the call of her mate, for the
instant she lighted upon the cliff he was near her. But budge not a foot
would he; whether he was suspicious or only exacting, one could not
quite tell. At any rate he kept giving vent to a ringing metallic note
of apprehension. The female coaxed with fluttering wings, and moved
slowly forward as she did so, finally securing the worm from her
reluctant lord, when—whisk! she was back again and out of sight around
the cliff on which I stood. I hastened forward to the furthest
outstanding point which gave a partial view of the wall’s face. No bird
was in sight. Then I tossed pebbles against the cliff-side, and from
beneath the second summons fluttered the frightened Pipit. Five
beautiful eggs, of a warm weathered oak, rather than “mahogany” shade,
lay in a niche of rock. A tussock of grass clung just below, and a dwarf
shrub afforded a touch of drapery above; while from the outstretched
hand a flint-flake might have fallen clean of the wall to the ice, a
hundred feet below. The male bird continued his outcries from the
distant cliff, but the female at no time reappeared.
With the advance of summer, the Pipits lead their broods about the
disrobed peaks, even to the very summits, as do the noble Leucostictes.
Knowing this, we may readily excuse any little eccentricities which
appear in our friends during the duller seasons. The Pipit has redeemed
himself.
_Turdidæ_—The Thrushes
No. 91.
TOWNSEND’S SOLITAIRE.
A. O. U. No. 754. Myadestes townsendi (Aud.).
Synonyms.—Townsend’s Flycatching Thrush. Townsend’s Thrush. Townsend’s
Flycatcher.
Description.—_Adults_: General color smoky gray, lighter below,
bleaching on throat, lower belly and under tail-coverts; a prominent
white orbital ring; wings and tail dusky; wing quills crossed by
extensive tawny area originating at base of innermost secondary and
passing obliquely backward—this appears in the closed wing as a spot
at the base of the exposed primaries but does not reach nearer the
edge of the wing than the fifth or sixth primary; another obscure
tawny or whitish patch formed by subterminal edging on outer webs of
seventh and eighth (sometimes ninth) primaries; greater coverts and
tertials tipped with white of varying prominence; a blotch of white on
each side of tail involving distal third of half of outermost rectrix,
tip of second and sometimes tip of third. Bill and feet black; irides
brown. _Young_ birds are heavily spotted with buff above and below
(showing thereby Turdine affinities),—above, each feather has a single
large spot (rhomboidal in some, heart-shaped in others) of buff,
centrally, and is edged with blackish, thus producing a scaled
appearance; below, the ground color is a pale buff or buffy gray with
blackish edgings to feathers. Length about 8.00 (203.2); wing 4.60
(117); tail 4.05 (103); bill .49 (12.4); tarsus .79 (20).
Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; brownish gray coloration with spots
of white (or pale tawny) on tail and wings. No black, as compared with
a Shrike.
Nesting.—_Nest_: in hollow under bank, cranny or rock wall or in
upturned roots of tree, of sticks, coarse weeds and trash, lined with
rootlets. _Eggs_: 4, grayish white spotted with pale brown, chiefly
about larger end. Av. size, .96 × .70 (24.4 × 17.8). _Season_: May or
June; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding chiefly in mountainous
districts, from northwestern Mexico to Alaska and Yukon Territory,
wintering irregularly from British Columbia (Sumas) southward,
straggling into Mississippi Valley during migrations.
Range in Washington.—Not uncommon spring and fall migrant thruout the
State, summer resident in the mountains to the limit of trees and
elsewhere irregularly to sea level; partially resident in winter west
of the Cascade Mountains.
Authorities.—? Ptiliogonys townsendi, Townsend, Narrative, 1839, p.
338. Myiadestes townsendii Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. 1858, 321.
T. C&S. D¹. Ra. J. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P¹. Prov. B. BN. E.
“Of this singular bird I know nothing but that it was shot by my friend,
Captain W. Brotchie, of the Honorable Hudson’s Bay Company, in a pine
forest near Fort George, (Astoria). It was the only specimen seen.” In
these words J. K. Townsend, the pioneer ornithologist of the Pacific
Northwest, records[32] the taking of the first example of this species
known to science.
The bird thus presented as a conjectural native of Washington, has long
been a puzzle to naturalists. It has been called Flycatcher, Thrush, and
a combination of the two; but the name Solitaire seems to express both
our noncommittal attitude toward the subject, and the demure
independence with which the bird itself proceeds to mind its own
affairs. Barring the matter of structure, which the scientists have now
pretty well thrashed out, the bird is everything by turns. He is
Flycatcher in that he delights to sit quietly on exposed limbs and watch
for passing insects. These he meets in mid-air and bags with an emphatic
snap of the mandibles. He is a Shrike in appearance and manner, when he
takes up a station on a fence-post and studies the ground intently. When
its prey is sighted at distances varying from ten to thirty feet, it
dives directly to the spot, lights, snatches, and swallows, in an
instant; or, if the catch is unmanageable, it returns to its post to
thrash and kill and swallow at leisure. During this pouncing foray, the
display of white in the Solitaire’s tail reminds one of the Lark
Sparrow. Like the silly Cedar-bird, the Solitaire gorges itself on fruit
and berries in season. Like a Thrush, when the mood is on, the Solitaire
skulks in the thickets or woodsy depths, and flies at the suggestion of
approach. Upon alighting it stands quietly, in expectation that the eye
of the beholder will thus lose sight of its ghostly tints among the
interlacing shadows.
And so one might go on comparing indefinitely, but the bird is entitled
to shine in its own light. The Solitaire is _sui generis_—no doubt of
that. As soon as we establish for it a certain line of conduct, the bird
does something else. We banish it to the mountains for the nesting
season—a pair nests in a railroad cut near Renton, altitude 200 feet. We
describe to our friends the beauty of its song—they go to its
sanctuaries and the bird is silent. A bird of such dainty mould should
winter in the South. It does,—at times. It also winters at Sumas on our
northern border. This poet of the solitudes, he should avoid the haunts
of men. He does, usually. But another time he may be seen hopping from
bush to log in a suburban swamp, or moping under the edge of a new
sidewalk. Indeed, I once saw a Solitaire flutter up from under a
passenger coach, as it lay in station. He had happened to spy some bread
crumbs and there was nothing to hinder save the conductor’s brisk “all
aboard.” Surely such a bundle of contradictions you never did see—and
all belied by an expression of lamb-like artlessness and _dolce far
niente_, which would do credit to a rag-doll.
[Illustration: TOWNSEND’S SOLITAIRE.]
All observers testify to the vocal powers of the Solitaire, and some are
most extravagant in the bird’s praises. My own notes are very meager. A
song heard on Church Mountain, in Whatcom County, May 12, 1905, is
characterized as “a dulcet strain of varied notes. It reminds one
strongly of the Sage Thrasher, but it is somewhat less impetuous.” In
view of this meagerness, I venture to quote at length two older
accounts, now hidden away in volumes not easily accessible. Dr. J. S.
Newberry first encountered the Solitaire in the cañon of the Mptolyas
River, at the base of Mount Jefferson (Or.), and declared its song to be
full, rich, and melodious, like that of a _Mimus_[33] “We followed down
the river in the bottom of the cañon; all day the gorge was filled with
a chorus of sweet sounds from hundreds and thousands of these birds,
which from their monotonous color, and their habit of sitting on the
branch of a tree projecting into the void above the stream, or hanging
from some beetling crag, and flying out in narrow circles after insects
precisely in the manner of the Flycatchers I was disposed to associate
with them.
“Two days afterward in the cañon of Psuc-see-que Creek, of which the
terraced banks were sparsely set with low trees of the western cedar
(_J. occidentalis_), I found these birds numerous. * * * With the first
dawn of day they began their songs, and at sunrise the valley was
perfectly vocal with their notes. Never, anywhere, have I heard a more
delightful chorus of bird music. Their song is not greatly varied, but
all the notes are particularly clear and sweet, and the strain of pure
gushing melody is as spontaneous and inspiring as that of the Song
Sparrow. At this time, September 30, these birds were feeding on the
berries of the cedar; they were very shy, and could only be obtained by
lying concealed in the vicinity of the trees which they frequented.”
Mr. T. M. Trippe, speaking for the Clear Creek Cañon in Colorado,
says[34]: “In summer and fall its voice is rarely heard; but as winter
comes on, and the woods are well-nigh deserted by all save a few Titmice
and Nuthatches, it begins to utter occasionally a single bell-like note
that can be heard at a great distance. The bird is now very shy; and the
author of the clear, loud call, that I heard nearly every morning from
the valley of Clear Creek, was long a mystery to me. Toward the middle
and latter part of winter, as the snow begins to fall, the Flycatching
Thrush delights to sing, choosing for its rostrum a pine tree in some
elevated position, high up above the valleys; and not all the fields and
groves, and hills and valleys of the Eastern States, can boast a more
exquisite song; a song in which the notes of the Purple Finch, the Wood
Thrush, and the Winter Wren are blended into a silvery cascade of
melody, that ripples and dances down the mountain sides as clear and
sparkling as the mountain brook, filling the woods and valleys with
ringing music. At first it sings only on bright clear mornings; but once
fairly in the mood, it sings at all hours and during the most inclement
weather. Often while travelling over the narrow, winding mountain roads,
toward the close of winter, I have been overtaken and half-blinded by
sudden, furious storms of wind and snow, and compelled to seek the
nearest tree or projecting rock for shelter. In such situations I have
frequently listened to the song of this bird, and forgot the cold and
wet in its enjoyment. Toward spring, as soon as the other birds begin to
sing, it becomes silent as tho disdainful of joining the common chorus,
and commences building its nest in May, earlier than almost any other
bird. During this season it deserts the valleys, and confines itself to
partially wooded hill-tops.”
No. 92.
WILLOW THRUSH.
A. O. U. No. 556 a. Hylocichla fuscescens salicicola Ridgway.
Synonym.—Western Wilson Thrush.
Description.—_Adult_: Above, dull tawny-brown, uniform; wing-quills
shading to brownish fuscous on inner webs; below white, the throat,
except in the upper middle, and the breast, tinged with cream-buff,
and spotted narrowly and sparingly with wedge-shaped marks of the
color of the back; sides and flanks more or less tinged with brownish
gray; sides of head buffy-tinged, with mixed brown, save on whitish
lores; bill dark above, light below; feet light brown. Adult male,
length 7.25-7.75 (184.2-196.9); wing 3.93 (100); tail 2.95 (75); bill
.55 (14); tarsus 1.18 (30).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow to Chewink size; dull cinnamon brown above;
breast buffy, _lightly_ spotted.
Nesting.—_Nest_: of leaves, bark-strips, weed-stems and trash, lined
with rootlets; placed at height of two or three feet in thickets or,
rarely, on ground. _Eggs_: 3-5, plain greenish blue, not unlike those
of the Robin. Av. size, .90 × .65 (22.8 × 16.5). _Season_: first or
second week in June; one brood.
General Range.—Western interior districts of United States and Canada;
breeding from North Dakota and Manitoba west to interior of British
Columbia and southward to Nevada, Utah and Colorado; southward during
migrations thru Arizona, etc., to Brazil, also thru the Mississippi
Valley and, casually, eastward.
Range in Washington.—Summer resident in the hilly districts of
northwestern Washington,—Blue Mountains(?).
Authorities.—Howe, Auk, XVII. Jan. 1900, p. 19 (Spokane). T(?). J.