CHESTNUT-BACKED CHICKADEE.
A. O. U. No. 741. Penthestes rufescens Towns.
Description.—_Adults_: Crown and nape dull sepia brown becoming sooty
toward lateral border—black before and behind eye, separated from
sooty black throat patch by large white area broadening posteriorly on
sides of neck; back, scapulars, rump, and sides of body rich chestnut;
lesser wing-coverts grayish brown; upper tail-coverts hair-brown or
more or less tinged with chestnut; wings and tail deeper grayish brown
edged with paler gray; remaining underparts (centrally) white; under
tail-coverts washed with brownish; bill black; feet brownish dusky;
iris brown. The brown of crown and hind-neck deepens in winter.
_Young_ birds are duller in coloration, especially as to the chestnut
of back and sides. Length about 4.75 (120.6); wing 2.35 (60); tail
1.90 (48.3); bill .37 (9.5); tarsus .65 (16.5).
Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; chestnut of _back_ and sides
distinctive—otherwise not easily distinguished in the tree-tops from
_P. a. occidentalis_. Frequents thicker timber and, usually, drier
situations.
Nesting.—_Nest_: in hole of dead stub, usually some natural cavity
enlarged and customarily at moderate heights, 10-20 feet, a couch of
fine bark-shreds, green moss, etc., heavily felted with squirrel-,
rabbit-, or cow-hair, and other soft substances. _Eggs_: 7-9, pure
white as to ground and sparingly sprinkled with reddish brown dots,
chiefly about larger end. Av. size, .61 × .47 (15.5 × 11.9). _Season_:
April 25-June 15 (according to altitude); one brood.
General Range.—Pacific Coast district, from northern California to
Alaska (Prince William Sound and head of Lynn Canal), east to Montana.
Range in Washington.—Resident; abundant and thoroly distributed thru
forests of Olympic Peninsula and Puget Sound region, decreasing in
numbers from Cascade divide eastward (in heavier coniferous timber
only). (We have no records of its occurrence east of Stehekin.)
Authorities.—_Parus rufescens_ Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila.
VII. 1837, 190. T. C&S. L¹. Rh. Kb. Ra. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov. B. E.
What busy little midgets these are as they go trooping thru the
tree-tops intent on plunder! And what a merry war they wage on beetle
and nit as they scrutinize every crevice of bark and bract! The bird
eats insects at all times of year, but his staple diet is formed by the
eggs and larvæ of insects. These are found tucked away in woody
crannies, or else grouped on the under surface of smaller limbs and
persistent leaves, as of oak or madrone.
On this account the Chickadee must frequently hang head downward; and
this he does very gracefully, using his tail to balance with, much as a
boy uses his legs in hanging from a “turning pole,” swinging to and fro
as tho he thoroly enjoyed it.
If possible, the Chestnut-backed Chickadee is a little more delicately
moulded and more fay-like in demeanor than its gray-backed cousin, the
Oregon Chickadee. Unlike the latter, it is found commonly in the densest
fir woods. It is found, also, in the oak groves of the prairie country;
and, in general, it may be said to prefer dry situations. No hard and
fast lines can be drawn, however, in the distribution of the two
species. In many sections they mingle freely, and are equally abundant.
In others, either may be quite unaccountably absent.
As nearly as we have made out to date, the commoner notes of the
Chestnut-backed Chickadee closely simulate those of the Oregon. The
_sweetee_ call is either indistinguishable or a mere shade smaller. The
sneezing note becomes more distinct as _kechézawick_; and “_Chickadee_”
becomes _kissadee_, the latter given so caressingly that you want to
pinch the little darling. The Chestnut-backed Chickadee has a really
truly song, but it is anything rather than musical. When the emotion of
April is no longer controllable, the minikin swain mounts a fir limb and
raps out a series of notes as monotonous as those of a Chipping Sparrow.
The trial is shorter and the movements less rapid, so that the half
dozen notes of a uniform character have more individual distinctness
than, say, in the case of the Sparrow: _Chick chick chick chick chick
chick_. Another performer may give each note a double character so that
the whole may sound like the snipping of a barber’s shears: _Chulip
chulip chulip chulip chulip_.
Mr. Bowles finds that in beginning a nesting cavity this bird almost
always avails itself of some natural advantage, as a place from which a
bit of wood has been torn away, or a hole made by a grub of one of the
larger Cerambycid beetles. On this account the bird enjoys a wider range
of choice in nesting sites than _atricapillus_. Fir or oak stubs are
oftenest chosen, and moderate heights are the rule; but I have seen
birds go in and out of a nesting hole at an elevation of eighty feet.
Every furred creature of the woods may be asked to contribute to the
furnishing of Chickadee’s home. Upon a mattress of fur and hair the bird
lays from seven to nine eggs, white as to ground color, and sparingly
dotted with pale rufous. Chickadees are close sitters and must sometimes
be taken from the eggs. They have, moreover, a unique method of defense,
for when an eye appears at the entrance, the bird bristles up and hisses
in a very snake-like fashion. This is too much for the nerves of a
Chipmunk, and we guess that the single brood of a Chickadee is not often
disturbed.
[Illustration: CHESTNUT-BACKED CHICKADEE.]
No. 110.
BUSH-TIT.
A. O. U. No. 743. Psaltriparus minimus (Towns.).
Synonyms.—Least Bush-tit. Puget Sound Bush-tit. Pacific Bush-Tit.
Description.—_Adults_: Crown and hindneck warm brown abruptly
contrasting with dull leaden or mouse gray hue of remaining
upperparts; wings and tail slaty edged with pale gray; sides of head
like crown but duller and paler; underparts sordid brownish white
deepening into dull drab on sides and flanks. Length about 4.00 (101);
wing 1.87 (47.5); tail 2.05 (52); bill .26 (6.9); tarsus .62 (15.8).
Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; leaden coloration with brownish cap
unmistakable.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a pendulous pouch from six inches to a foot in length
and three or four inches in diameter, with small entrance hole in side
near top; an exquisite fabrication of mosses, plant-down and other
soft vegetable substances bound together by cobwebs and ornamented
externally with lichens, etc., lined with plant-down and feathers;
placed at moderate heights in bushes, rarely from ten to twenty feet
up in fir trees. _Eggs_: 5-8, usually 7, dull white frequently
discoloring to pale drab during incubation. Av. size .55 × .40 (13.9 ×
10.2). _Season_: April-July; two or more broods.
General Range.—Pacific Coast district from Lower California to the
Fraser River.
Range in Washington.—Resident west of the Cascades at lower levels,
rare northerly—perhaps nearly confined to the Puget Sound basin.
Authorities.—_Parus minimus_, Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
VII. 1837, 190 (Columbia River). C&S. Ra. Kk. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. B.
It is an age of specialists. The man who could do anything—after a
fashion—has given place to the man who can do one thing well. And in
this we have but followed Nature’s example. The birds are specialists.
The Loon is a diver; the Cormorant a fisher; the Petrel a mariner, and
so on until we come to Swallows, who are either masons or mining
engineers; and to Catbird and Thrush, who are trained musicians.
The Bush-Tits belong to the builders’ caste. They are specialists in
domestic architecture. The little birds not only enjoy their task; they
have nest-building on the brain. A beautiful home is more than meat to
them. For its successful rearing they are ready to forswear the delights
of foreign travel, and to its embellishment they devote every surplus
energy, even after the children have come.
[Illustration: _Taken in Tacoma._ _Photo by Dawson and Bowles._
NEST OF THE BUSH-TIT IN SITU.]
If there were time it would be interesting to trace the genesis of this
architectural passion. Suffice it to say that the Bush-Tit comes of a
race of builders. They call him Tit, a name shared in common with all
the Chickadees; and Chickadee he is in structure and behavior, in his
absolute indifference to position or balance, in his daintiness and
sprightliness. Now Chickadees, altho they have lost the art of building,
are specialists in nest-lining. (A nest lined with rabbit-fur means as
much to a Chickadee as does a seal-skin jacket to you, my lady!) Hence
the Chickadee strain is not lost upon our subject. The Tit, further,
shows his affinity with the Kinglets in a habit of restlessly flirting
the wings; and the Kinglets, as we know, are master builders. But it is
to the Wrens that the Bush-Tit owes most of all, and especially to the
Tulé Wren, for he has taken the general conception of a completely
enclosed nest and worked it out more daintily. This, by the way, is no
fanciful comparison, for there is a strong strain of Wren blood in
Bush-Tit’s veins.
Nest-building begins on Puget Sound about the middle of March, at a time
when the shrubbery is only beginning to leaf. Early nests, like the one
in our illustration, may be perfectly exposed. Indeed, the birds appear
to be at no pains to effect concealment, but trust to the general
protection afforded by the presence of other such masses, the withered
panicles of “ocean spray” or spiræa, drooping mosses, and collections of
unfallen leaves, in the draperies of the underforest. The pendant pouch
is composed chiefly of moss made fast by vegetable fibres and cob-webs,
and snugly felted with vegetable downs. The lining is composed sometimes
exclusively of white felt, but oftener of plant-down mingled with wool,
fur, or feathers.
Egg-laying may begin as soon as the nest is decently framed, or again,
it may be deferred for a week or ten days after the structure is
practically complete. But, however that may be, the birds never rest
from their labors. A Bush-Tit’s nest is like the Jamestown Fair, never
finished. The nest must be ornamented with lichens, petals, spider-egg
cases, bits of tissue paper,—in short, whatever takes the fancy of the
birds in the course of their restless forays. The interior furnishings,
likewise, must be continually augmented. If the bottom of the nest was
only an inch thick at the outset, it is built up from within until it
attains a thickness of two or three inches. Even tho the eggs be near to
hatching, the thrifty housewife, as she returns from an airing, must
needs lug in a beakful of feathers, which it would have been a shame to
waste, you know. Besides this, the male bird has two or three shanties
under construction in the neighborhood, upon which he can profitably put
in those tedious hours between three a. m. and sunset.
[Illustration: _Taken in Oregon._ _Photo by Bohlman and Finley._
BUSH-TIT.]
The mother Tit lays six or eight pearly white eggs, and these the
Steller Jay counts quite the daintiest item on his bill of fare. Hence,
of all the Bush-Tits’ nests one sees in a season, fully half have been
slit open and robbed by the blue-coated thug. One such tragedy, with its
human interest, is reported for us by Miss Adelaide L. Pollock, the
well-known bird-lover of Seattle, as follows:
“We found the long purse-shaped nest swinging from the lower branches of
a giant red fir July 8th, and every day thereafter for two weeks some
member of our class in ornithology visited the castle in the air. It was
woven with a silken foundation gleaned in the cobwebs of the forest,
lined with the pappus of the willow and the thistle, and chinked with
moss, lichen, and faded hazel blossoms. With an eye to man-fashion, the
architects had papered the home, but only in spots on the outside. What
a delight it was to watch the parent birds light on the doorstep with a
worm and plunge inside. By the wriggling and swaying of the nest we knew
there was something doing there, but we had to guess at the gaping
mouths. July 17th was a dreadful day for the nestlings. We heard the
pitiful notes of birds in distress as we approached and found the nest
was gone. Searching the ground it appeared with a great gaping hole in
one side, which told of the work of jay, crow, or chipmunk. On
investigation a tiny dead bunch of feathers was drawn out; and then
something moved. The nest was tied to a hazel branch and quick as a
thought the parents went in at the front and out at the new back door.
Gaining courage they tried again, this time with food, and within the
hour had apparently forgotten their tragedy and settled down with the
one wee chick. While the parents were foraging we opened the slit and
the way that baby bird turned tail-up and buried its head in the lining
of the nest reminded us of the ostrich.
“July 20th we saw the youngster scramble up the sides of his home to the
doorway, where he perched blinking his round brown eyes at us. He seemed
to enjoy having his throat and back scratched and did not resent our
presence, but his parents did, for the nest was deserted at sundown of
July 22d after a long visit from the class in the afternoon. Yet the
tiny fledgling could scarcely leap from twig to twig of the tangled
undergrowth into which he disappeared. Two days later we fancied we
recognized the same family by a peculiar white iris of one parent bird,
as they flitted from branch to branch of an alder forty feet above the
ground.”
_Sittidæ_—The Nuthatches
No. 111.
SLENDER-BILLED NUTHATCH.
A. O. U. No. 727 a. Sitta carolinensis aculeata (Cassin).
Description.—_Adult male_: Top of head, nape and upper boundary of
back shining black, with a slight greenish reflection; remaining
upperparts ashy blue; outer wing-quills fuscous, the second and three
or four succeeding primaries narrowly touched with white on outer web
in retreating order; inner quills and coverts with much black
centering; tail feathers, except upper pair, black, the outer pairs
squarely blotched with white in subterminal to terminal order; sides
of head, and neck well up, and underparts white with a faint bluish
tinge; distinctly marked, or washed more or less, on flanks and
crissum with rusty brown; bill stout, subulate, the under mandible
slightly recurved,—blackish plumbeous above, lighter at base of lower
mandible; feet dark brown; iris brown. _Adult female_: similar to
male, but black of head and back more or less veiled by color of back.
Length 5.50-6.10 (139.7-154.9); wing 3.43 (87); tail 1.81 (46); bill
.77 (19.5); tarsus .72 (18.2).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler to Sparrow size; tree-creeping habits;
black and ashy blue above; white below.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a deserted Woodpecker hole, or newly-made cavity in
stump or tree, usually at a considerable distance from the ground, and
lined with leaves, feathers, or hair. _Eggs_: 5-8, sometimes 9 or even
10, white, thickly speckled and spotted with reddish brown and
lavender. Av. size, .76 × .56 (19.3 × 14.2). _Season_: April, May; one
brood.
General Range.—Pacific Coast states and British Columbia (to
Ashcroft), in the northern portion of its range east of the Cascades.
Non-migratory.
Range in Washington.—Resident, of regular occurrence in pine timber
east of Cascades; rare and local in Puget Sound region.
Authorities.—? Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VIII. 1839, 155
(Columbia River). _Sitta aculeata_, Cassin, Cooper and Suckley, Rep.
Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II. 1860, p. 193. (T.) C&S. Rh. D¹. Ra. J.
B.
Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. C.
_Who-ew’ o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o_ goes the Macfarlane Screech Owl in broad
daylight. There is an instant hush on the pine-clad hillside—a hush
followed by an excited murmur of inquiry among the scattered members of
a winter bird-troop. If _you_ happen to be the Screech Owl, seated
motionless at the base of some large tree and half obscured in its
shadows, perhaps the first intimation you will have that the search
party is on your trail will be the click, click, click, of tiny claws on
the tree-bole above your head, followed by a quank of interrogation,
almost comical for its mixture of baffled anxiety and dawning suspicion
of the truth. He is an inquisitive fellow, this Nuthatch, for, you see,
prying is his business; but he is brave as well. The chances are that he
will venture down within a foot or two of your face before he flutters
off with a loud outcry of alarm. When excited, as when regarding a
suspicious object, he has an odd fashion of rapidly right-and-left
facing on a horizontal bough, as tho to try both eyes on you and lose no
time between.
Nuthatch is the acknowledged acrobat of the woods—not that he acts for
display; it is all business with him. A tree is a complete gymnasium in
itself, and the bird is master of it all. In all positions, any side up,
this bird is there, fearless, confident; in fact, he rather prefers
traveling head downward, especially on the main trunk route. He pries
under bark-scales and lichens, peers into crevices and explores cavities
in his search for tiny insects, larvæ, and insects’ eggs, especially the
latter. The value of the service which this bird and his associates
perform for the horticulturist is simply incalculable. There should be
as heavy a penalty imposed upon one who wantonly kills a Nuthatch or a
Chickadee, as upon one who enters an enclosure and cuts down an orchard
or a shade tree.
The Nuthatch has a variety of notes, all distinguished by a peculiar
nasal quality. When hunting with the troop he gives an occasional softly
resonant _tut_ or _tut-tut_, as if to remind his fellows that all’s
well. The halloo note is more decided, _tin_, pronounced _à la
francaise_. By means of this note and by using it in combination, they
seem to be able to carry on quite an animated conversation, calling
across from tree to tree. During the mating season, and often at other
times, they have an even more decided and distinctive note, _quonk,
quonk, quonk_, or _ho-onk, ho-onk_, in moderate pitch, and with
deliberation. They have also a sort of trumpeting song, but this is
rarely heard in Washington; and, indeed, all the notes of the
Slender-billed Nuthatch have a softened and subdued character as
compared with those of the eastern bird, typical _S. carolinensis_.
The nest of this Nuthatch is placed in a cavity carefully chiselled out,
usually at a considerable height, in a pine stub, dead fir, or
cottonwood. Both sexes share the labor of excavation, and when the
cavity is somewhat deepened one bird removes the chips while the other
delves. Like all the hole-nesting species of this family, but unlike the
Woodpeckers, the Nuthatches provide for their home an abundant lining of
moss, fur, feathers, and the like. This precaution is justified from the
fact that they are early nesters—complete sets of eggs being found no
later than the second week in April.
The male is a devoted husband and father, feeding the female incessantly
during incubation, and sharing with her in the care of the large family
long after many birds have forgotten their young. The young birds early
learn to creep up to the mouth of the nesting hole to receive food when
their turn comes; and they are said to crawl about the parental tree for
some days before they attempt flight.
The Slender-billed Nuthatch is of rare occurrence west of the Cascades,
being chiefly confined to the wooded edges of the prairies. In the
eastern half of the State it may be rare locally but increases in
abundance in the northeastern section. Wherever found, this bird
associates freely with the related species and is especially fond of the
society of the Pygmies. A winter bird troop encountered near Spokane
included, beside a half dozen Slender-bills, as many Red-breasted
Nuthatches, a score of Pygmies, a dozen Mountain Chickadees, four or
five Batchelder Woodpeckers, a few Clark Nutcrackers, and twenty
Red-shafted Flickers.
Being non-migratory (with the irregular exception of S. canadensis)
Nuthatches are called upon to endure the rigors of a northern climate
with its occasional drop to thirty below; but this does not give them or
their fellows great concern, because of the unfailing character of their
food supply. Beside that, please remember that feathers and fat afford
the warmest protection known.
No. 112.
RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH.
A. O. U. No. 728. Sitta canadensis Linn.
Synonyms.—Red-Bellied Nuthatch. Canadian Nuthatch.
Description.—_Adult male_: Crown and nape shining black; white
superciliary lines meeting on extreme forehead; a black band thru eye;
remaining upperparts grayish blue; wings fuscous, unmarked; tail
feathers, except upper pair, black; the outer pairs subterminally
blotched with white in retreating order; chin, and sides of head, and
neck below the black, pure white; remaining underparts rusty or
ochraceous brown; bill short, subulate, plumbeous-black; feet dark
brown. _Adult female_: Similar, but crown like the back, with only
traces of black beneath; lateral head-stripe blackish; usually paler
rusty below. _Immature_: Like adult female. Length, 4.25-4.75
(108-120.6); average of seven specimens: wings 2.61 (66.3); tail 1.43
(36.3); bill .50 (12.7).
Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; black and grayish blue above; rusty
below; tree-creeping habits.
Nesting.—_Nest_: of grasses, feathers, etc., in a hole of tree or
stub, excavated by the bird, usually at lower levels. _Eggs_: 4-6,
white or creamy white, speckled with reddish brown and lavender.
Average size, .63 × .48 (16 × 12.2). _Season_: first week in May; one
brood.
General Range.—North America at large, breeding from northern New
England, northern New York, and northern Michigan northward, and
southward in the Alleghanies, Rocky Mountains, and Sierra Nevada; in
winter south to about the southern border of the United States.
Range in Washington.—Common resident and migrant in timbered sections
thruout the State, more numerous in the mountains; winter residents
are, possibly, Alaskan birds.
Authorities.—? Ornithological Committee, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila.
VII. 1837, 193 (Columbia River). Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. XII. pt. II. 1860, 192. T. C&S. Rh. D¹. Sr. Ra. D². Kk. J. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P¹. Prov. B.
[Illustration: RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH.]
There is nothing big about the Red-breasted Nuthatch save his voice. If
undisturbed, birdikins pursues the even tenor of his ways, like any
other winged bug-hunter; but once provoke his curiosity or arouse
suspicion, and he publishes forthwith a broadside of sensational
editorial matter which no thoughtful reader of the woods can overlook.
The full war-dance song of the Red-breasted Nuthatch, executed, for
instance, when he hears the false notes of the Screech Owl, is something
like this: _Nyăă - - - - - - - nyăă - - - - - - nyăă - - - - - nyăă - -
- - nyăă - - - nyăă - - nyă - nyă - nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă_
and so on, in an incoherent strain of wild excitement, until he runs
clean out of breath and quits, exhausted. The early notes of this orgic
rhapsody are interrogative and penetrating; the succeeding notes are a
sort of trumpeting challenge for the intruder to show himself; failing
which, the irate Creeper drops into a lower, non-resonant series, of
doubtful meaning and more doubtful morals. But the bird is not always
angry, and the nasal call sounding on migration has a friendly quality
about it which brings one hastening out-of-doors to greet the traveler
again. Contrary to an early report, the Red-breast is quite at home in
our deeper forests. Indeed, his is one of the most characteristic voices
of the solemn fir woods. He still claims an interest, however, in
deciduous timber, in bottom lands, and in the oak trees which border the
prairies. In western Washington, it is quite impossible to trace or to
estimate the bird’s migrations, since it is present everywhere at all
seasons; but it is probably much less abundant with us in winter. In
eastern Washington, it is confined for the most part to the region of
pine timber in summer, and altho it also winters here irregularly, the
numbers in this part of the State are largely augmented by migrants
during May and September.
Thru the intermittent quanking of a pair of these birds, my attention
was directed to a couple of tall dead fir trees near the center of a
woods, then known as the Puget Mill strip, but now as Moore’s University
Park Addition to Seattle. A little lazy scrutiny descried the birds,
mere twinkling bits of blue-gray, about one hundred and twenty-five feet
up; and two or three mysterious disappearances established a suspicion
that they were interested in a certain section of one of the trees. The
suspicion received strong confirmation when, after a longer
disappearance than usual on the part of the Red-breasts, a Harris
Woodpecker alighted further up in the same stub. The Nuthatches
immediately swarmed out and set upon the Harris with vigor and language.
The Woodpecker was disposed to stand his ground, whereat the Nuthatches
became highly enraged and charged upon the intruder so vigorously that
the poor fellow was obliged to dodge about his chosen limb in lively
fashion. The Hatches cried _nyă nyă nyă_ as fast as they could get
breath, and flirted their wings between whiles to vent their outraged
feelings. Harris naturally decided before long that the game wasn’t
worth the bother.
[Illustration: _Taken in Pierce County._ _Photo by the Author._
A TYPICAL NESTING SITE OF THE RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH.
AN OAK TREE (QUERCUS GARRYANA) AT THE BORDER OF THE PRAIRIE.]
Time and again the little fellows flew across to a live fir tree, but
only to come back as often to the same fascinating belt. Finally, from a
new vantage point I made out the hole, a very fresh one in an open
stretch of bark about one hundred and twenty feet up. As I looked, one
bird entered the excavation and remained, while the other mounted guard
at the entrance. After about five minutes of this the tiny miner emerged
and the other, the male, I think, took her place. His duty appeared to
be to remove the chips, for he stuck his head out at the entrance
momentarily, and one imagined, rather than saw at that height, the tiny
flashes of falling white. All very romantic, but not a good “risk” from
the insurance man’s standpoint.
These Nuthatches must delight in work. They will spend a week in
laborious excavation, and then abandon the claim for no apparent reason.
Perhaps it is an outcropping of that same instinct of restlessness which
makes Wrens build “decoy” nests. One such finished nest we found to be
shaped not unlike a nursing bottle, a bottle with a bent neck. The
entrance was one and three-eighths inches across, the cavity three
inches wide, one and a half deep, and eight long (keeping in mind the
analogy of the bottle resting on its flat side).
The birds do not always nest at ungetatable heights. A nest taken near
Tacoma on the 8th of June, 1906, was found at a height of only seven
feet in a small fir stump. The wood was very rotten, and the eggs rested
only four inches below the entrance. The nest-lining in this instance
was a heavy mat an inch in thickness, and was composed of vegetable
matter—wood fiber, soft grasses, etc.—without hair of any sort, as would
surely have been the case with that of a Chestnut-backed Chickadee, for
which it was at first taken.
The Nuthatches appear to leave their eggs during the warmer hours of the
day, and one must await the return of the truant owners if he would be
sure of identification. One mark, but not infallible, is the presence of
pitch, smeared all around and especially below the nesting hole. The use
of this is not quite certain, but Mr. Bowles’s hazard is a good one;
viz., that it serves to ward off the ants, which are often a pest to
hole-nesting birds. These ants not only annoy the sitting bird, who is
presumably able to defend herself, but they sometimes destroy unguarded
eggs, or young birds.
No. 113.
PYGMY NUTHATCH.
A. O. U. No. 730. Sitta pygmæa Vigors.
Synonym.—California Nuthatch (early name).
Description.—_Adults_: Crown, nape, and sides of head to below eye
grayish olive or olive-brown, a buffy white spot on hind-neck (nearly
concealed in fresh plumage); lores and region behind eye (bounding the
olive) blackish; remaining upperparts plumbeous, browning (brownish
slate) on flight feathers, etc., becoming black on rectrices (except
central pair); longer primaries usually with some edging of white;
central pair of tail-feathers with elongated white spot; two outer
pairs crossed obliquely with white, and the three outer tipped with
slate; underparts sordid white, smoky brown, or even ferruginous,
clearest (nearly white) on chin and cheeks; sides, flanks, and crissum
washed with color of back; bill plumbeous, lightening below; feet
plumbeous; iris black. _Young:_ Like adults but crown and hind-neck
nearly color of back; sides and flanks washed with brownish. Length
4.00 (101.6) or less; wing 2.56 (65); tail 1.34 (34); bill .56 (14.2);
tarsus .59 (15).
Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; top of head olive brown contrasting
with plumbeous of back; gregarious habits.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a hole in dead top of pine tree, excavated by birds,
smeared about entrance with pitch, and lined with soft substances,
grass, hair, and feathers. _Eggs_: 5-8, pure white, flecked more or
less heavily with reddish brown. Av. size, .61 × .54 (15.5 × 13.7).
_Season_: May 1-20; one brood.
General Range.—Western United States from New Mexico, Colorado, and
Montana to southern California, Washington, and eastern British
Columbia; southward in Mexico to Mount Orizaba.
Range in Washington.—Resident in northern and eastern portions of the
State east of the Cascade Mountains. Nearly confined to pine timber.
Authorities.—Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. pt. II. 1858, p. 378.
C&S. D¹. J.
Specimens.—Prov. C.
As for the Pygmy, the pine tree is his home. It is not quite proper,
however, to speak of this Nuthatch in the singular. Lilliputians must
hunt in troops and make up in numbers what they lack in strength. Pygmy
Nuthatches are not merely sociable; they are almost gregarious. Where a
company of Kinglets would be content to straggle thru a dozen trees, a
pack of Pygmies prefers to assemble in one. Yet there is no flock
impulse here, as with Siskins. Each little elf is his own master, and a
company of them is more like a crowd of merry schoolboys than anything
else. It’s “come on fellers,” when one of the boys tires of a given
tree, and sets out for another. The rest follow at leisure but are soon
reassembled, and there is much jolly chatter with some good-natured
scuffling, as the confederated mischiefs swarm over the new field of
opportunity.
Nuthatches are not methodical, like Creepers, in their search for
insects,—they are haphazard and happy. The branches are more attractive
to them than the tree bole, and the dead top of the tree is most
alluring of all. The Pygmies are never too busy to talk. The more they
find the more excited their chatter grows, pretty lispings and chirpings
quite too dainty for our dull ears. It makes us sigh to watch their
happiness, and we go off muttering, “We, too, were young.”
Again, it shocks us when we find these youngsters in knickerbockers and
braids paired off for nesting time. Tut, tut! children, so eager to
taste life’s heavier joys? A nest is chiselled out with infinite labor
on the part of these tiny beaks, in the dead portion of some pine tree.
The cavity is from four to twelve inches in depth, with an entrance a
trifle over an inch in diameter. The owners share the taste of the
Chickadees, and prepare an elaborate layette of soft vegetable fibers,
fur, hair, and feathers, in which the eggs are sometimes quite
smothered.
The parents are as proud as peacocks, and well they may be, of their six
or eight oval treasures, crystal white, with rufous frecklings, lavish
or scant. When the babies are hatched, the mother goes in and out
fearlessly under your very nose; and you feel such an interest in the
little family that you pluck instinctively—but alas! with what
futility—at the fastenings of your purse.
_Certhiidæ_—The Creepers
No. 114.
SIERRA CREEPER.
A. O. U. No. 726 d. Certhia familiaris zelotes Osgood.
Synonym.—California Creeper (Ridgway).
Description.—_Adults_: Above rusty brown, broadly and loosely streaked
with ashy white; more finely and narrowly streaked on crown; rump
bright russet; wing-quills crossed by two whitish bars, one on both
webs near base, the other on outer webs alone; greater coverts,
secondaries and tertials tipped with whitish or grayish buff; a narrow
superciliary stripe dull whitish or brownish gray; underparts sordid
white or pale buffy, tinged on sides and flanks with stronger buffy.
Bill slender, decurved, brownish black above paler below; feet and
legs brown; iris dark brown. Length of adult male about 5.50 (139.7);
wing 2.50 (63.5); tail 2.39 (60.8); bill .63 (16); tarsus .59 (15).
Female a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; singularly variegated in modest
colors above; the only _brown_ creeper in its range. Lighter colored
than the next.
Nesting.—_Nest_: of twigs, bark-strips, moss, plant-down, etc.,
crowded behind a warping scale of bark whether of cedar, pine or fir.
_Eggs_: usually 5 or 6, sometimes 7 or 8, white or creamy white
speckled and spotted with cinnamon brown or hazel, chiefly in wreath
about larger end. Av. Size .61 × .47 (15.5 × 11.9).
General Range.—The Cascade-Sierra mountain system from Mt. Whitney
north to central British Columbia, east to Idaho; displaced by
succeeding form on Pacific Coast slope save from Marin County,
California, southward.
Range in Washington.—Resident in the Cascade Mountains, east in
coniferous timber to Idaho where intergrading with _C. f. montana_.
Authorities.—? _Certhia familiaris montana_ Johnson (Roswell H.),
Condor, Vol. VIII., Jan. 1906, p. 27.
Specimens.—U. of W. B.
People are always remonstrating with the bird-man for the assertion that
birds are to be found everywhere if you but know them. Especially do
they talk of the great silent forests on the western slopes of the
Cascade Mountains, where they have traveled for forty miles at a stretch
without seeing or hearing a living thing. Well; you cannot show me a
square mile of woodland in all that area where at least the following
species of birds may not be found: Western Winter Wren, Western
Golden-crowned Kinglet, Western Flycatcher, Varied Thrush and California
Creeper[46]; and these, except the Flycatcher, at any season of the
year. Silent birds they are for the most part, but each gives vent to a
characteristic cry by which it may be known.
The Creeper is, par excellence, the bird of the forest. To him alone the
very bigness of the trees is of the greatest service; for his specialty
is bark, and the more bark there is the harder is this little atom to
distinguish. Not only does he inhabit the deeper forests of the Cascade
ranges and foothills, but his domain stretches eastward across the
northern tier of pine-clad counties, and he is common among the
tamaracks on the banks of the Pend d’Oreille.
In June, in the Stehekin Valley of Chelan County, we found these
Creepers leading about troops of fully grown young. A recently occupied
nest was disclosed to us by a few twigs sticking out from behind a
curled-up bark scale of a fire-killed tree, near the Cascade trail. The
twigs proved to be eighteen inches below the top of the nest proper,
which was thus about twelve feet from the ground. The intervening space
was filled in loosely with twigs, bark-strips, moss, cotton, and every
other sort of woodsy loot. The mass was topped by a crescent-shaped
cushion over an inch in thickness, deeply hollowed in the center, six
inches from horn to horn, and four and a half from bole to bark; and
this cushion was composed entirely of soft inner bark-strips and a
vegetable fiber resembling flax in quality—altogether a splendid
creation.
No. 115.
TAWNY CREEPER.
A. O. U. No. 726 c. Certhia familiaris occidentalis Ridgway.
Synonym.—Californian Creeper (A. O. U.).
Description.—“Similar to _C. f. zelotes_ but browner and more suffused
with buffy above; wing markings more pronouncedly buff; underparts
more buffy” (Ridgway). Length of male: wing 2.44 (61.9); tail 2.41
(61.2); bill .60 (15.2); tarsus .61 (15.5).
Recognition Marks.—As in preceding; darker.
Nesting.—_Nest_: as in preceding; placed behind sprung bark scale
usually at moderate heights, 3-20 feet up (one record of 60). Inner
diameter of one nest 1¾ inches, depth 2½. _Eggs_: 5 or 6, as in _C. f.
zelotes_. Av. size .58 × .47 (14.7 × 11.9). Season: May, June; two
broods.
General Range.—Pacific Coast district from Northern California to
Sitka.
Range in Washington.—Resident thruout the West-side from tidewater up.
Authorities.—? _Certhia familiaris_ Orn. Com. Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci.
Phila., VII. 1837, 193 (Columbia River). _Certhia americana_ Baird,
Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., IX. 1858, p. 372, part. (T). C&S. L¹. Rh. Ra.
B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. BN.
To one who loves birds with an all inclusive passion—such as the
undecided bachelor is wont to confess for the fair sex—the temptation to
use superlatives upon each successive species as it is brought under
review is very strong. But here perhaps we may be pardoned for relaxing
our attention, or, it may be, for being caught in the act of stifling a
little yawn. Certhia is a prosy drab, and all the beauty she possesses
is in the eyes of her little hubby—dear, devoted creature.
This clerkling (hubby, of course, I mean) was brought into the world
behind a bit of bark. His first steps, or creeps, were taken along the
bark of the home tree. When the little wings got stronger and when the
little claws had carried him up to the top of tree number One, he
fluttered and spilled thru the air until he pulled up somehow, with
heart beating fiercely, at the base and _on the bark_ of tree number
Two. Since then he has climbed an almost infinity of trees (but I dare
say he has kept count). Summers and winters have gone over his head, but
never a waking hour in which he has not climbed and tumbled in this
worse than Sysiphæan task of gleaning nits and eggs and grubs from the
never-ending bark. Why, it gets upon the nerves! I pray you think, has
not this animate brown spot traveled more relative miles of ridgy brown
bark in his wee lifetime than ever mariner on billowy sea! Work, work,
work! With the industry of an Oriental he seeks to shame the rollicking
caprice of Chickadee, and to be a “living example” to such spendthrifts
as Goldikins, the Kinglet.
But wait! I am not sure. _Could_ anyone live in these majestic forests,
could anyone breathe this incense of perpetual balsam, could anyone
mount triumphantly these aspiring tree-boles, way, way up into the blue,
without growing the soul of a poet? Hark! “_Tew, tewy, tewy, Piñg,
tewy_,”—an angel ditty lisped in the tree-tops where the tender green
fir fronds melt into the sky—some Warbler, I guess; the Hermit, perhaps,
rounding out his unsaid devotions. And again, “_^kee ^kus ^wit ^it ^tee
^swee_” like a garland of song caught up at either end and made fast to
the ether. No! Would you believe it! It is our prosy clerkling! He has
turned fay, and goes carolling about his task as blithely as a
bejewelled _artiste_ with nothing to do. Love? Yes; love of the woods,
for it is the middle of September.
[Illustration: _Taken near Tacoma._ _Photo by Bowles and Dawson._
TAWNY CREEPER APPROACHING NEST.
THE MOTHER’S BEAK IS LADEN WITH GOOD THINGS.]
All of which leads me to apologize for the rude epithets previously
used; for one who can sing belongs to the immortals; and never again
will we judge a brother harshly, for who knows the vaulting heart of the
seeming plodder!
The ordinary, working note of the Tawny Creeper is a faint _tsip_, and
this is varied from time to time by a longer double note, _tsue tsee_
(of a resonant quality which cannot be made to appear in the
transcript). This latter it is which one can never quite certainly
distinguish from that of the Western Golden-crowned Kinglet. The full
song is, indeed, very sweet and dainty, with a bit of a plaintive
quality, which serves to distinguish it from the utterances of the Wood
Warblers, once you are accustomed.
A knowledge of the Creeper’s nesting habits would be quite unattainable
were the bird to choose the tree-tops; but with characteristic humility
it seeks the lower levels at the nesting season, so that one need not
look much above his head in searching for its nest.
The first one found was at the edge of the forest overlooking a woodland
road near Tacoma. We came upon a pair of the birds gleaning from the
neighboring trees and calling encouragement to each other as they
proceeded. We were not long in divining their local attachments; and
finally, after several feints, the mother bird flew to an isolated tree
at the very edge of the woods, where investigation disclosed a piece of
bark warped and sprung by fire, behind which six callow babies rested on
a soft cushion of moss, hair and bark-fiber, supported by twigs
criss-crossed and interwoven, to take up all available space below.
[Illustration: _Taken near Tacoma._ _Photo by W. Leon Dawson._
NESTING SITE OF THE TAWNY CREEPER.]
This looked easy; but the most diligent search the following season
served only to discover the records of past years and hopeful prospects.
Bark scales of just the right dimensions do not abound, and those which
do look good prove to be either too infirm or else to have received the
scant compliment of a few criss-crossed sticks which mean, “We would
have built here, if we had not liked some other place better.”
Not until May 5th, 1907, did Mr. Bowles discover the first eggs, five
speckled beauties.
[Illustration: _Taken near Tacoma._ _Photo by W. Leon Dawson._
NEST OF TAWNY CREEPER IN DEAD OAK TREE.
DETAIL OF PRECEDING ILLUSTRATION. THE NEST APPEARS UNDER THE BARK SCALE
ON THE RIGHT, AND THE WONDER IS HOW IT MAINTAINS ITS POSITION.]
_Troglodytidæ_—The Wrens
No. 116.
WESTERN MARSH WREN.
A. O. U. No. 725 c. Telmatodytes palustris plesius (Oberholser).
Synonym.—Interior Marsh Wren.
Description.—_Adult_: Crown blackish; forehead light brown
centrally,—color sometimes spreading superficially over entire crown;
hind neck and scapulars light brown (raw umber, nearly); rump warm
russet; a triangular patch on back blackish, with prominent white
stripes and some admixture of russet; wings and tail fuscous or
blackish on inner webs, brown with black bars on exposed surfaces;
upper and under tail-coverts usually and more or less distinctly
barred with dusky; sides of head whitish before, plain brown or
punctate behind; a white superciliary line; underparts white, tinged
with ochraceous buff across breast, and with pale brown or isabella
color on sides, flanks, and crissum; bill and feet as usual. Length
4.50-5.75 (114.3-146); av. of ten males: wing 2.12 (54); tail 1.82
(46.4); bill .56 (14.2); tarsus .79 (20.1).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; brown and black pattern of back with
white stripes distinctive; white superciliary stripe and long bill
distinctive in haunts. Strictly confined to bulrushes and long grass
of marshes. Lighter and larger than _T. p. paludicola_.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a ball of reeds and grasses, chinked and lined with
cat-tail down, with entrance in side, and suspended in growing
cat-tails, bulrushes or bushes. _Eggs_: 5-7, so heavily speckled with
olive brown or sepia as to appear almost uniform brown. Av. size, .65
× .52 (16.5 × 13.2). _Season_: May, July; two broods.
General Range.—Western United States and southern British Columbia
between the Rocky Mountains and the Cascade-Sierra Range, breeding
from New Mexico northward; south during migrations to Cape district of
Lower California and Western Mexico.
Range in Washington.—Summer resident in all suitable localities east
of the Cascades.
Authorities.—_Telmatodytes palustris paludicola_ Brewster, B. N. O. C.
VII 1882, 227 (Ft. Walla Walla). D². Ss¹. J.
Specimens.—C. P.
“To the Coots and Rails belong the ooze-infesting morsels of the swamp,
but all the little crawling things which venture into the upper story of
the waving cat-tail forest, belong to the Long-billed Marsh Wren.
Somewhat less cautious than the waterfowl, he is the presiding genius of
flowing acres, which often have no other interest for the ornithologist.
There are only two occasions when the Marsh Wren voluntarily leaves the
shelter of the cat-tails or of the closely related marshables. One of
these is when he is driven South by the migrating instinct. Then he may
be seen skulking about the borders of the streams, sheltering in the
weeds or clambering about the drift. The other time is in the spring,
when the male shoots up into the air a few feet above the reeds, like a
ball from a Roman candle, and sputters all the way, only to drop back,
extinguished, into the reeds again. This is a part of the tactics of his
courting season, when, if ever, a body may be allowed a little liberty.
For the rest, he clings sidewise to the cat-tail stems or sprawls in
midair, reaching, rather than flying from one stem to another. His tail
is cocked up and his head thrown back, so that, on those few occasions
when he is seen, he does not get credit for being as large as he really
is” (The Birds of Ohio).
Since his sphere of activity is so limited, we may proceed at once to
the main interest, that of nest-building. And this is precisely as the
Marsh Wren would have it, else why does he spend the livelong day making
extra nests, which are of no possible use to anyone, save as examples of
Telmatodytine architecture? It is possible that the female is
coquettish, and requires these many mansions as evidence that the ardent
swain will be able to support her becomingly after marriage. Or, it may
be, that the suitor delights to afford his lady love a wide range of
choice in the matter of homes, and seeks thus to drive her to the
inevitable conclusion that there is only one home-maker for her. However
this may be, it is certain that one sometimes finds a considerable group
of nest-balls, each of apparent suitability, before any are occupied.
[Illustration: _Taken near Spokane._ _Photo by F. S. Merrill._
NEST OF WESTERN MARSH WREN, IN SITU.]
On the other hand, the male continues his harmless activities long after
his mate has selected one of his early efforts and deposited her eggs;
so that the oölogist may have to sample a dozen “cock’s nests,” or
decoys, before the right one is found. Some empty nests may be perfectly
finished, but others are apt to lack the soft lining; while still
others, not having received the close-pressed interstitial filling, will
be sodden from the last rains.
The Marsh Wren’s nest is a compact ball of vegetable materials, lashed
midway of cat-tails or bulrushes, living or dead, and having a neat
entrance hole in one side. A considerable variety of materials is used
in construction, but in any given nest only one textile substance will
preponderate. Dead cat-tail leaves may be employed, in which case the
numerous loopholes will be filled with matted down from the same plant.
Fine dry grasses may be utilized, and these so closely woven as
practically to exclude the rain. On Moses Lake, where rankly growing
bulrushes predominate in the nesting areas, spirogyra is the material
most largely used. This, the familiar, scum-like plant which masses
under water in quiet places, is plucked out by the venturesome birds in
great wet hanks and plastered about the nest until the required
thickness is attained. While wet, the substance matches its surroundings
admirably, but as it dries out it shrinks considerably and fades to a
sickly light green, or greenish gray, which advertises itself among the
obstinately green bulrushes. Where this fashion prevails, one finds it
possible to pick out immediately the oldest member of the group, and it
is more than likely to prove the occupied nest.
The nest-linings are of the softest cat-tail down, feathers of wild
fowl, or dried spirogyra teased to a point of enduring fluffiness. It
appears, also, that the Wrens often cover their eggs upon leaving the
nest. Thus, in one we found on the 17th of May, which contained seven
eggs, the eggs were completely buried under a loose blanket of soft
vegetable fibers. The nest was by no means deserted, for the eggs were
warm and the mother bird very solicitous, insomuch that she repeatedly
ventured within a foot of my hand while I was engaged with the nest.
The Marsh Wrens regard themselves as the rightful owners of the reedy
fastnesses which they occupy, and are evidently jealous of avian, as
well as human, intruders. In one instance a Wren had constructed a sham
nest hard against a completed structure of the Yellow-headed Blackbird,
and to the evident retirement of its owner. Another had built squarely
on top of a handsome Blackbird nest of the current season’s
construction, and with a spiteful purpose all too evident.
No. 117.
TULE WREN.
A. O. U. No. 725 a. Telmatodytes palustris paludicola (Baird).
Synonyms.—Marsh Wren (locally). Western Marsh Wren (now restricted to
_T. p. plesius_). California Marsh Wren (inappropriate). Pacific Marsh
Wren.
Description.—_Adult_: Similar to _T. p. plesius_, but smaller and with
coloration decidedly darker. Length about 4.75 (120.6); wing 1.97
(50); tail 1.73 (44); bill .52 (13.2); tarsus .78 (20).
Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; brownish coloration; reed-haunting
habits and sputtering notes distinctive.
Nesting.—_Nest_: shaped like a cocoanut, of reeds and grasses, lined
with plant-down, and with entrance in side; placed two or three feet
high in reeds, rarely, high in bushes of swamp. _Eggs_: 5 or 6,
ground-color grayish brown but so heavily dotted and clouded with
varying shades of chocolate and mahogany as to be frequently obscured.
Av. size .67 × .52 (17 × 13.2). _Season_: _last week in March_ to
July; two broods.
General Range.—Pacific Coast district from British Columbia south
during migration to mouth of Colorado River and extremity of Lower
California.
Range in Washington.—Resident in suitable localities west of Cascades.
Authorities.—_Cistothorus (Telmatodytes) palustris_ Cab. Baird, Rep.
Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II., 1858, p. 364, part. C&S. L². Ra. Kk. B.
E.
Specimens.—U. of W. E. Prov.
When the February sun waves his golden baton over the marshes of western
Washington, they yield up a chorus of wren song which is exceeded only
by that of the frogs. The frogs, to be sure, have the advantage, in that
their choral offering has greater carrying power; but the Wrens at close
quarters leave you in no doubt that the palm belongs to them. One
hesitates to call the medley of clicking, buzzing, and sputtering, which
welters in the reeds, music; but if one succeeds in catching sight of a
Tulé Wren, holding on for dear life to a cat-tail stem, and vibrating
like a drill-chuck with the effort of his impassioned utterance, he
feels sure that music is at least intended.
Wrens are ever busy bodies, and if they could not sing or chatter, or at
least scold, they surely would explode. It is a marvel, too, that they
find so much to interest them in mere reeds, now green, now brown, set
above a foot or so of stagnant water. But, bless you! Do not waste your
sympathies upon them. They have neighbors,—Red-wings, Yellow-throats,
and the like—and is it not the gossips of the little village who are
most exercised over their neighbors’ affairs?
It seems probable that our Tulé Wrens are largely resident. Certainly
they are abundant in the more sheltered marshes in winter; and, since
the species does not extend very far northward, it is possibly not too
much to assume that our birds live and die in a single swamp. They are,
as a consequence, very much mixed up on their seasons, and I have heard
a swamp in full song in November.
Nesting in the South Tacoma swamp, where several scores at least may be
found, begins the last week in March, and full sets of eggs may
certainly be found by the first week in April. But “decoys” are, of
course, the rule. In a day Mr. Bowles found fifty-three nests, only
three of which held eggs or young. At least two broods are raised in a
season.
The eggs, usually five or six in number, are so overlaid with tiny dots
as to appear of an almost uniform hair brown in color, very dark, except
occasionally in the case of the last laid egg. The sitting bird must
subject her eggs to frequent turning in the nest, for they become highly
polished during incubation.
No. 118.
SEATTLE WREN.
A. O. U. No. 719 e. Thryomanes bewickii calophonus Oberholser.
Description.—_Adults_: Above, dark olive-brown, or warm sepia brown
with an olive tinge; the rump with downy, concealed, white spots;
wings showing at least traces of dusky barring,—sometimes complete on
tertials; tail blackish on concealed portions, distinctly and finely
barred with black on exposed portions; the outer pairs of feathers
white-tipped and showing white barring, incipient or complete on
terminal third; a narrow white superciliary stripe, and an indistinct
dark stripe thru eye; underparts grayish white, tinged on sides and
flanks with brown; under tail-coverts heavily barred with blackish;
bill dark brown above, lighter below; culmen slightly decurved.
Length: 5.00-5.50 (127-139.7); wing 2.08 (52.8); tail 2.01 (52.3);
bill .59 (15); tarsus .79 (20).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; known from Western House Wren by
superciliary stripe and whiter underparts, mostly unbarred; a little
larger and more deliberate in movements.
Nesting.—_Nest_: in holes or crannies about stumps, upturned roots,
brush-heaps, etc., or in buildings; a rather slight affair of dried
grasses, skeleton leaves, mosses, and waste, rarely twigs, lined with
wool, hair, or feathers. _Eggs_: 4-6, usually 5, white, speckled or
spotted, rather sparingly, with reddish brown or purplish, uniformly
or chiefly in wreath about larger end. Av. size, .68 × .54 (17.3 ×
13.7). _Season_: April 15-June 15; two broods.
General Range.—Pacific Coast district from Oregon to southern British
Columbia and Vancouver Island; resident.
Range in Washington.—Resident west of the Cascades, chiefly at lower
levels and in valleys.
Authorities.—? Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 154
(Columbia River). _Thriothorus bewickii_ Baird, Pac. Rep. R. R. Surv.
IX. 1858, p. 363 part. (T). (C&S). L². Rh. Kb. Ra. Kk. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov. B. BN. E.
To those who are acquainted only with the typical Bewick Wren of the
East, the added vocal accomplishments of our western representative come
in the nature of a surprise. For to the characteristic ditty of
_bewickii_ proper, _calophonus_ has introduced so many trills and
flourishes that the original motif is almost lost to sight. _Calophonus_
means having a beautiful voice, or sweetly sounding, and right well does
the bird deserve the name, in a region which is all too conspicuous for
its lack of notable songsters.
Nor was it at all amiss for Professor Ridgway, the eminent ornithologist
of Washington, D. C., to name this bird in honor of the Queen City, for
it is in the immediate environs of the city, as well as in the untidy
wastes of half-conquered nature, that the local Bewick Wren finds a
congenial home. Logged-off tracts, slashings and burned-over areas are,
however, its especial delight, and if the bird-man catches sight of one
that has been making the rounds of all the fire-blackened stumps in the
neighborhood, he is ready to declare a new sub-species on the strength
of the bird’s soiled garments. No junk dealer knows the alleys of the
metropolis better than this crafty bird knows the byways of his
log-heaps and the intricate mazes of fire-weed and fern. If there is any
unusual appearance or noise which gives promise of mischief afoot, the
Seattle Wren is the first to respond. Flitting, gliding, tittering, the
bird comes up and moves about the center of commotion, taking
observations from all possible angles and making a running commentary
thereon. His attitude is alert and his movements vivacious, but the
chief interest attaches to the bird’s mobile tail. With this expressive
member the bird is able to converse in a vigorous sign language. It is
cocked up in impudence, wagged in defiance, set aslant in coquetry, or
depressed in whimsical token of humility. Indeed, it is hardly too much
to say that the bird makes faces with its tail.
While spying along the lower levels the Wren giggles and chuckles and
titters, or else gives vent to a grating cry, _moozeerp_, which sets the
woods on edge. But in song the bird oftenest chooses an elevated
station, an alder sapling or the top of a stump. Here, at short
intervals and in most energetic fashion, he delivers extended phrases of
varied notes, now clear and sparkling, now slurred or pedalled. Above
all, he is master of a set of smart trills. One of them, after three
preliminary notes, runs _tsu′ tsu′ tsu′ tsu′ tsu′ tsu′_, like an
exaggerated and beautified song of the Towhee. Another song, which from
its rollicking character deserves to be called a drinking song,
terminates with a brilliant trill in descending scale, _rallentando et
diminuendo_, as tho the little minstrel were actually draining a beaker
of dew.
The Seattle Wren is altogether a hilarious personage; and in a country
where most song birds are overawed by the solemnity of the forest, it is
well enough to have one cheery wight to set all canons at defiance. Even
the gray-bearded old fir-stubs must laugh at a time over some of the
sallies of this restless little zany. The Wren does not indulge in
conscious mimicry, but since his art is self-taught, he is occasionally
indebted to the companions of the woods for a theme. The Towhee motif is
not uncommon in his songs, and the supposed notes of a Willow Goldfinch,
a little off color, were traced to his door, at Blaine.
Of the nesting Mr. Bowles says: “The building sites chosen by this wren
for its nests are so variable that hardly anything can be considered
typical. It may be in the wildest swampy wood far removed from
civilization, but it is quite as likely to be found in a house in the
heart of a city. A few of the nesting sites I have recorded are in
upturned roots of fallen trees, deserted woodpecker holes, in bird boxes
in the city, in a fishing creel hanging on a porch, under a slab of bark
that has scaled away a few inches from the body of a tree, or an open
nest built on a beam under a bridge.
“A very complete study of this wren has convinced me that it never
builds any nests except those used in raising the young. In other words,
it is the only wren in the Northwest that is positively guiltless of
using ‘decoys’.
“In constructing the nest these birds do not often take over ten days,
in which proceeding the female does all the work. One pair, however,
that I visited occasionally, were over a month in completing a small
nest in the natural cavity of a stump. No explanation of this seems
possible, except that the female was not ready to lay her eggs any
sooner.
“The nest is a rather slight affair, as a rule, the average nest
containing much less material than that of any other wren that I have
seen. It is composed of fine dried grass, skeleton leaves, green moss,
wool, and very rarely has a basis of twigs, with a lining of hair, the
cast skins of snakes, and many feathers.
“A set contains from four to six eggs, most commonly five. These are
pure white in ground color, marked with fine dots of reddish brown. The
markings are variable in distribution, some specimens being marked very
sparingly over all, while in others the markings are largely
concentrated around the larger end in the form of a more or less
confluent ring. The eggs are rather short ovate oval in shape, and
average in measurements .68 × .54 inches.
“Two broods are reared in a season; or perhaps it would be more correct
to say that fresh eggs may be found at any time between the middle of
April and the middle of June.
“Altho rather timid in the vicinity of her nest, the female generally
remains on her eggs until disturbed by a jar or some loud noise. She
then disappears and neither bird appears nor makes any complaint in
objection to the intruder.”
No. 119.
WESTERN HOUSE WREN.
A. O. U. No. 721 a. Troglodytes aedon parkmanii (Aud.).
Synonyms.—Parkman’s Wren. Pacific House Wren.
Description.—_Adult_: Above, grayish rufous-brown, duller and lighter
on foreparts; brighter and more rufous on rump, which has concealed
downy white spots; back and scapulars barred (rarely indistinctly)
with dusky; wings on exposed webs and tail all over distinctly and
finely dusky-barred; sides of head speckled grayish brown, without
definite pattern; below, light grayish brown, indistinctly speckled or
banded with darker brownish on fore-parts; heavily speckled and banded
with dusky and whitish on flanks and crissum; bill black above,
lighter below; culmen slightly curved; feet brownish. Length 4.50-5.25
(114.3-133.3); wing 2.08 (52.8); tail 1.75 (44.6); bill .51 (13);
tarsus .68 (17.2).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; brown above, lighter below;
everywhere more or less speckled and banded with dusky, brownish, or
white. Larger and with longer tail than Western Winter Wren.
[Illustration: _Taken in Oregon._ _Photo by Finley and Bohlman._
HOW’S THE WEATHER OUTSIDE?
WESTERN HOUSE WREN AT ENTRANCE OF NESTING HOLE.]
Nesting.—_Nest_: of sticks and trash, lined with fine grasses or
chicken-feathers, placed in bird-boxes, holes in orchard trees,
crannies of out-buildings, etc. _Eggs_: 4-8, white, heavily speckled,
and usually more or less tinged with pinkish brown or vinaceous, with
a wreath of a heavier shade about the larger end. Average size, .64 ×
.51 (16.3 × 13). _Season_: About May 15; one brood.
General Range.—Western United States and Canada, north to British
Columbia, Alberta and Manitoba, east to Illinois, south to Mexico.
Range in Washington.—Not common summer resident, confined to lower
altitudes and, usually, vicinity of settlements.
Migrations.—_Spring_: Tacoma, April 25, 1906, April 28, 1907.
Authorities.—_? Troglodites fulvus_ Ornithological Committee, Journ.
Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, p. 193 (Columbia River). _?
Troglodytes parkmanii_ Audubon, Orn. Biog. V. 1839, 310 (Columbia
River). _Troglodytes parkmanni_, Aud., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.
XII. pt. II. 1858, p. 368. (T.) C&S. D¹. Ra. D². Ss². Kk. J. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. P. B.
Since our country is pretty well supplied with Wrens, and those too
which are content with our climate the year around, this bustling
down-Easter, arriving at what he considers the proper season, does not
figure so largely in local bird society as across the Rockies. Altho
originally described by Audubon from material secured by Townsend, at
Vancouver, in the Thirties, _parkmanii_ gives evidence of being a
newcomer, comparatively speaking. In the first place, the late arrival,
April 25th at Puget Sound points, marks the species in which the
tradition of a hard climate is still strong. And, in the second place,
the slightly paler plumage acquired while crossing the desert has not
yet been lost, altho it is very certain that it could not long withstand
consecutive centuries of residence in our humid climate. It is not
surprising, therefore, that the House Wren is not abundant nor well
distributed in western Washington. On the East-side it is neither common
nor rare, being found about long-established ranches and wherever the
presence of a little timber affords the variety of cover which is
essential to its happiness.
[Illustration: _Taken in Oregon._ _Photo by W. L. Finley._
A VERY BUSY WREN.
NOT QUITE SO BUSY AS APPEARS, HOWEVER. THE PICTURE IS A COMPOSITE AND
PRESENTS THE SAME BIRD TWICE.]
Once upon the scene, however, a little House Wren goes a great ways. He
is bursting with energy, and music escapes from his busy mandibles like
steam from a safety valve. The first task is to renovate last year’s
quarters, but there is always time on the side to explore a new
brush-heap, to scold a cat, or to indulge innumerable song-bursts. In
singing his joyous trill the bird reminds one of a piece of fireworks
called a “cascade,” for he fills the air with a brilliant bouquet of
music, and is himself, one would think, nearly consumed by the violence
of the effort. But the next moment the singer is carrying out last
year’s feather bed by great beakfuls, or lugging into some cranny sticks
ridiculously large for him.
During the nesting season both birds are perfect little spitfires,
assaulting mischievous prowlers with a fearlessness which knows no
caution, and scolding in a voice which expresses the deepest scorn. The
rasping note produced on such an occasion reminds one of the energetic
use of a nutmeg grater by a determined housewife.
In nesting, the Wrens make free of the haunts of men, but are in nowise
dependent on them. Old cabins afford convenient crannies, forgotten
augur-holes, tin cans, bird boxes, a sleeve or pocket in an old coat
hanging in the woodshed,—anything with a cavity will do; but, by the
same token, an unused Woodpecker’s hole, or a knot-hole in a stump miles
from the haunts of men will do as well. In any case the cavity, be it
big or little, must first be filled up with sticks, with just room at
the top for entrance. Into this mass a deep hollow is sunk, and this is
heavily lined with horse-hair, wool, feathers, bits of snake-skin,
anything soft and “comfy”.
Since the Western House Wren makes a brief season with us, it appears to
raise but one brood annually.
No. 120.
WESTERN WINTER WREN.
A. O. U. No. 722 a. Nannus hiemalis pacificus (Baird).
Description.—_Adult_: Above warm dark brown, duller before, brighter
on rump, sometimes obscurely waved or barred with dusky on back,
wings, and tail; barring more distinct on edges of four or five outer
primaries, where alternating with buffy; concealed white spots on rump
scarce, or almost wanting; a pale brownish superciliary line; sides of
head speckled brownish and buffy; underparts everywhere finely
mottled, speckled or barred,—on the throat and breast mingled brownish
(Isabella-color) and buffy, below dusky and tawny, dusky predominating
over brown on flanks and crissum; bill comparatively short, straight,
blackish above, lighter below; feet light brown. Length about 4.00
(101.6); wing 1.81 (46); tail 1.18 (30); bill .46 (11.6); tarsus .71
(18).
Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; dark brown above, lighter below; more
or less speckled and barred all over; tail shorter than in preceding
species.
Nesting.—_Nest_: of moss and a few small twigs, lined heavily with
wool, rabbits’ fur, hair and feathers, placed among roots of upturned
tree, or in crannies of decayed stumps, brush-heaps, etc. _Eggs_: 4-7,
usually 5, white or creamy-white, dotted finely but sparingly with
reddish brown; occasionally blotched with the same; sometimes almost
unmarked. Av. size .69 × .50 (17.5 × 12.7). _Season_: first week in
April to first week in July according to altitude: two broods.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding from southern
California to southern Alaska, east to western Montana. Chiefly
resident, but south irregularly in Great Basin States and California
in winter.
Range in Washington.—Resident in coniferous timber from sea level to
limit of trees; less common east of the Cascade Mountains; of
irregular occurrence in open country during migrations.
Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. (1814) Ed. Biddle: Coues. Vol.
II, p. 186.] ? Orn. Com. Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 193
(Columbia River). _Troglodytes (Anorthura) hyemalis_ Baird, Rep. Pac.
R. R. Surv. IX. 1858, p. 369. (T). C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹. Kb. Ra. Kk. J. B.
E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov. B. BN. E.
_Chick—chick chick—chick chick_; it is the Winter Wren’s way of saying
How-do-you-do? when you invade his domain in the damp forest. The voice
is a size too large for such a mite of a bird, and one does not
understand its circumflexed quality until he sees its possessor making
an emphatic curtsey with each uttereance. It is not every day that the
recluse beholds a man, and it may be that he has stolen a march under
cover of the ferns and salal brush before touching off his little mine
of interrogatives at your knees. If so, his brusque little being is
softened by a friendly twinkle, as he notes your surprise and then darts
back chuckling to the cover of a fallen log.
Again, if your entrance into the woods has been unnoticed, so that the
little huntsman comes upon you in the regular way of business, it is
amusing to watch with what ruses of circumvention he seeks to inspect
you. Now he appears above a root on your right gawking on tiptoe; then
drops at a flash behind its shelter to reprove himself in upbraiding
_chick chick_’s for his rashness. Then, after a minute of apprehensive
silence on your part, a chuckle at your other elbow announces that the
inspection is satisfactorily completed on that side. The Lilliputian has
you at his mercy, Mr. Gulliver.
Dr. Cooper, writing fifty years ago, considered this the commonest
species in the forests of “the Territory.” With the possible exception
of the Golden-crowned Kinglet, this is probably still true, since it is
found not merely along streams and in romantic dells, but thruout the
somber depths of the fir and spruce forests from sea level to the limit
of trees. It is fond of the wilderness and has as yet learned no
necessity of dependence upon man, but it by no means shuns the edges of
town, if only sufficient density of cover be provided. Because of the
more open character of pine timber, the Winter Wren is less common and
is altogether local in its distribution east of the mountains, being
confined for the most part to those forest areas which boast an infusion
of fir and tamarack.
In winter, because of heavy snows, the birds appear to retire to a large
extent upon the valleys and lowlands, nor do they appear to reoccupy the
mountain forests until they have reared a first brood upon the lower
levels. Just how familiar a species this bird is at sea-level does not
appear to be generally realized. In the spring of 1905 I estimated that
forty pairs were nesting in Ravenna Park alone. Nor do they by any means
desert the lowlands in toto in summer, for they are seen regularly at
that season thruout Puget Sound, upon the islands of Washington Sound,
and upon the West Coast.
[Illustration: _Taken in Seattle._ _Photo by the Author._
A THICKET IN RAVENNA PARK, WHICH ONLY THE WINTER WREN WILL EXPLORE.]
It is the Winter Wren, chiefly, which gladdens the depths of the ancient
forest with music. Partly because of its unique isolation, but more
because of the joyous abandon of the little singer, the song of the
Winter Wren strikes the bird-lover as being one of the most refreshing
in the Northwest. It consists of a rapid series of gurgling notes and
wanton trills, not very loud nor of great variety, but having all the
spontaneity of bubbling water, a tiny cascade of song in a waste of
silence. The song comes always as an outburst, as tho some mechanical
obstruction had given way before the pent-up music. Indeed, one bird I
heard at Moclips preceded his song with a series of tittering notes,
which struck me absurdly as being the clicking of the ratchet in a
music-box being wound up for action.
Heard at close quarters the bird will occasionally employ a
ventriloquial trick, dropping suddenly to _sotto voce_, so that the song
appears to come from a distance. Again, it will move crescendo and
diminuendo, as tho the supply pipe of this musical cascade were
submitted to varying pressure at the fountain head.
A singing bird is the best evidence available of the proximity of the
nest. Usually the male bird posts himself near the sitting female and
publishes his domestic happiness in musical numbers. But again, he may
only be pausing to congratulate himself upon the successful completion
of another decoy, and the case is hopeless for the nonce.
[Illustration: _Taken in Seattle._ _Photo by the Author._
NEST OF WESTERN WINTER WREN IN CHARRED STUMP.
NOTE THAT A SPIDER WEB ABOVE CLOSELY SIMULATES THE NEST ENTRANCE, WHICH
IS REALLY ABOUT MIDWAY.]
For nesting sites the Wrens avail themselves of cubby-holes and crannies
in upturned roots or fallen logs, and fire-holes in half-burned stumps.
A favorite situation is one of the crevices which occur in a large fir
tree when it falls and splits open. Or the nest is sometimes found under
the bark of a decaying log, or in a crevice of earth in an unused
mine-shaft. If the site selected has a wide entrance, this is walled up
by the nesting material and only a smooth round aperture an inch and a
quarter in diameter is left to admit to the nest proper. In default of
any such shelter, birds have been known to construct their nests at the
center of some baby fir, or in the drooping branches of a fir tree at a
height of a foot or more from the ground. In such case, the nest is
finished to the shape of a cocoanut, with an entrance hole in the side a
little above the center.
In all cases the materials used are substantially the same, chiefly
green moss, with an abundance of fir or cedar twigs shot thru its walls
and foundations. This shell is heavily lined with very fine mosses,
intermingled with deer hair or other soft substances; while the inner
lining is of feathers, which the Sooty and the Ruffed Grouse have
largely contributed to the upholstered luxury of this model home.
[Illustration: _Taken near Tacoma._ _Photo by Dawson and Bowles._
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN WINTER WREN IN STUMP.
TOP OF STUMP REMOVED. AN UNUSUAL NESTING-SITE WHERE ONE WOULD SOONER
HAVE EXPECTED TO FIND OREGON CHICKADEE.]
“Cocks’ nests,” or decoys, are the favorite diversion of this
indefatigable bird, so that, as with the restless activities of
four-year-old children, one sighs to think of the prodigious waste of
energies entailed. The aboriginal cause of this quaint instinct, so
prevalent among the Wrens, would seem to be the desire to deceive and
discourage enemies, but in the case of the Winter Wren one is led to
suspect that the hard-working husband is trying to meet a perpetual
challenge to occupy all available sites—a miser hoarding opportunities.
A troop of young Wrens just out of the nest is a cunning sight. The
anxious parents counsel flight and the more circumspect of the brood
obey, but now and then one less sophisticated allows a little pleasant
talk, “blarney,” to quiet his beating heart. Then a little titillation
of the crown feathers will quite win him over, so that he will accept a
gently insistent finger in place of the twig which has been his support.
The unfaltering trust of childhood has subdued many a savage heart, but
when it is exemplified in a baby Wren one feels the ultimate appeal to
tenderness.
Mr. Brown, of Glacier, coming upon an old Russet-backed Thrush nest at
dusk, thrust an exploratory finger over its brim. Judge of his surprise
when out swarmed seven young Winter Wrens. Mr. Brown feels reasonably
sure, however, that the birds were hatched elsewhere, and that they were
only roosting temporarily in the larger nest, in view of its ampler
accommodations.
No. 121.
ROCK WREN.
A. O. U. No. 715. Salpinctes obsoletus (Say).
Description.—_Adults_: Above brownish gray changing on rump to
cinnamon-brown, most of the surface speckled by arrow-shaped marks
containing, or contiguous to, rounded spots of whitish; wing-quills
color of back, barred with dusky on outer webs; middle pair of
tail-feathers color of back barred with dusky; remaining rectrices
barred with dusky on outer webs only, each with broad subterminal bar
of blackish and tipped broadly with cinnamon-buff area varied by dusky
marbling; outermost pair broadly blackish- and cinnamon-barred on both
webs; a superciliary stripe of whitish; a broad post-ocular stripe of
grayish brown; sides of head and underparts dull white shading into
pale cinnamon or vinaceous buff on flanks and under tail-coverts;
sides of head, throat and upper breast spotted, mottled or streaked
obscurely with grayish brown or dusky; under tail-coverts barred or
transversely spotted with dusky. Bill dark horn-color above, paling
below; feet and legs brownish dusky; iris brown. _Young birds_ are
more or less barred or vermiculated above, without white speckling,
and are unmarked below. Length: 5.50-6.00 (139.7-152.4); wing 2.76
(70); tail 2.09 (53); bill .70 (17.7); tarsus .83 (21).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; variegated tail with broad buffy tips
distinctive; rock-haunting habits.
Nesting.—_Nest_: in crannies of cliffs, of twigs, grasses, wool, hair
and other soft substances, approached by runway of rock-chips or
pebbles. _Eggs_: 5-7, white or pinkish white, sprinkled somewhat
sparingly with pale cinnamon, chiefly about larger end. Av. size .73 ×
.56 (18.5 × 14.2). _Season_: May 1st to June 20th; two broods.
General Range.—Western United States, northern and central Mexico, and
southern British Columbia, chiefly in hilly districts; eastward across
Great Plains to Kansas, Nebraska, etc.; retires from northern portion
of range in winter.
Range in Washington.—Summer resident and migrant in open country east
of the Cascades, chiefly confined to cliffs of Columbian lava; casual
west of the Cascades.
Authorities.—[“Rock wren,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885), p.
22.] Lawrence, Auk, IX. 1892, 47, 357. T. L¹. D¹. D². Ss¹. Ss². Kk.
Specimens.—P. C.
“But Barrenness, Loneliness, such-like things,
That gall and grate on the White Man’s nerves,
Was the rangers that camped by the bitter springs
And guarded the lines of God’s reserves.
So the folks all shy from the desert land,
’Cept mebbe a few that kin understand.”—_Clark._
A discerning soul is _Salpinctes_. He loves beyond all else the uplifted
ramparts of basalt, the bare lean battlements of the wilderness. They
are the walls of a sanctuary, where he is both verger and choir master,
while upon the scarred altars which they shelter, his faithful spouse
has a place “where she may lay her young.”
The Rock Wren is nestled among the most impressive surroundings, but
there is nothing subdued or melancholy about his bearing. Indeed, he has
taken a commission to wake the old hills and to keep the shades of eld
from brooding too heavily upon them. His song is, therefore, one of the
sprightliest, most musical, and resonant to be heard in the entire West.
The rock-wall makes an admirable sounding-board, and the bird stops
midway of whatever task to sing a hymn of wildest exultation. _Whittier,
whittier, whittier_, is one of his finest strains; while _ka-whee,
ka-whee, ka-whee_ is a sort of challenge which the bird renders in
various tempo, and punctuates with nervous bobs to enforce attention.
For the rest his notes are too varied, spontaneous, and untrammeled to
admit of precise description.
Save in the vicinity of his nest, the Rock Wren is rather an elusive
sprite. If you clamber to his haunts he will remove, as matter of
course, a hundred yards along the cliff; or he will flit across the
couleé with a nonchalance which discourages further effort. Left to
himself, however, he may whimsically return—near enough perhaps for you
to catch the click, click of his tiny claws as he goes over the lava
blocks, poking into crevices after spiders here, nibbling larvæ in vapor
holes there, or scaling sheer heights yonder, without a thought of
vertigo.
At nesting time the cliffs present a thousand chinks and hidey-holes,
any one of which would do to put a nest in. The collector is likely to
be dismayed at the wealth of possibilities before him, and the birds
themselves appear to regret that they must make choice of a single
cranny, for they “fix up” half a dozen of the likeliest. And when it
comes to lining the approaches of the chosen cavity, what do you suppose
they use? Why, rocks, of course; not large ones this time, but flakes
and pebbles of basalt, which rattle pleasantly every time the bird goes
in and out. These rock chips are sometimes an inch or more in diameter,
and it is difficult to conceive how a bird with such a delicate beak can
compass their removal. Here they are, however, to the quantity of half a
pint or more, and they are just as much a necessity to every
well-regulated Salpinctean household, as marble steps are to
Philadelphians.
[Illustration: _Taken in Douglas County._ _Photo by the Author._
NESTING-SITE OF ROCK WREN IN BASALT CLIFF.
THE NEST OCCUPIES THE UPPER CRANNY BUT THE “FRONT WALK” IS COMPLETED
BELOW.]
The nest itself is rather a bulky affair, composed of weed-stalks, dried
grasses, and fine rootlets, with a scanty lining of hair or wool (all
East-side birds are enthusiastic advocates of sheep-raising). “Two
broods are raised in a season, the first set of eggs appearing early in
May, the second about the middle of June. It is possible that even a
third set may sometimes be laid still later in the season, but these
late sets are more apt to be due to the breaking up of the first or
second. The eggs vary from five to seven, and are pure white in color,
sprinkled rather sparingly over the surface with dots of a faint
brownish red, most heavily about the larger end” (Bowles).
Failing a suitable cliff-house—not all walls are built to Wrens’
orders—the birds resort to a rock-slide and the possibilities here are
infinite. After I had seen a devoted pair disappear behind a certain
small rock no less than a dozen times, and had heard responsive notes in
different keys, a chittering which reminded one of baby Katydids, I
thought I had a cinch on the nest. The crevices of the rocks here and
there were crammed with dried grass and stuff which might fairly be
considered superfluous nesting material, and the young birds were too
young to have traveled far; but as for the actual cradle I could not
find it, and I cannot certify that the wrenlets were hatched within
seven rods. The little fellows were as shy as conies, but their parents,
curiously enough, took my researches good naturedly. One of them came
within two feet of my face and peered intently at me as I sat
motionless; and even after some square yards of the rock slide had been
violently disarranged, they did not hesitate to visit their clamoring
brood as tho nothing had happened. Did they trust the man or the rocks
rather?
No. 122.
CANYON WREN.
A. O. U. No. 717 a. Catherpes mexicanus conspersus Ridgw.
Synonyms.—Canon Wren. Speckled Canon Wren.
Description.—_Adult_: “Upperparts brown, paler and grayer anteriorly,
behind shading insensibly into rich rufous, everywhere dotted with
small dusky and whitish spots. Tail clear cinnamon-brown, crossed with
numerous very narrow and mostly zigzag black bars. Wing-quills dark
brown, outer webs of primaries and both webs of inner secondaries
barred with color of back. Chin, throat, and fore breast, with lower
half of side of head and neck, pure white, shading behind through
ochraceous-brown into rich deep ferruginous, and posteriorly
obsoletely waved with dusky and whitish. Bill slate-colored, paler and
more livid below; feet black; iris brown” (Coues). Length about 5.50
(139.7); wing 2.35 (59.7); tail 2.06 (52.4); bill .81 (20.5); tarsus
.71 (18.1). Female a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size, rock-haunting habits; rich rusty red
of hinder underparts; tail finely barred with black, its feathers
without buffy tips as distinguished from _Salpinctes obsoletus_.
Nesting.—Not known to nest in Washington but probably does so. _Nest_
and _eggs_ indistinguishable from those of the Rock Wren.
General Range.—Central arid districts of the western United States and
southern British Columbia from Wyoming and Colorado west to
northeastern California and south to Arizona.
Range in Washington.—Reported from Palouse country only,—is probably
extending range into Upper Sonoran and Arid Transition zones of
eastern Washington.
Authorities.—_C. mexicanus punctulatus_, Snodgrass, Auk. Vol. XXI.
Apr. 1904, p. 232. J.
Specimens.—P.
To Mr. Robert E. Snodgrass belongs the honor of first reporting this
species as a bird of Washington. He encountered it in the Snake River
Cañon at Almota in the summer of 1903, and mentions that it occurred
also at Wawawai Ferry, a few miles up the river. Roswell H. Johnson also
refers to it casually in the preface to his list of the birds of
Cheney[47] as occurring “where conditions were favorable to the south
and east.”
It has long been supposed that the Cañon Wrens were confined to a much
more southern range. Ridgway[48] assigns the northern limits of this
species to Wyoming and Nevada. Its appearance in Washington, therefore,
is matter of congratulation and may, perhaps, be taken as an instance of
that _northward trend of species_ which undoubtedly affects many of the
Passerine forms, and none more notably than the Wrens.
The Cañon Wren frequents much the same situations as the Rock Wren and
has the same sprightly ways. In the southern part of its range it is
said to be a familiar resident of towns, and nests as frequently in
crannies and bird-boxes as does our House Wren (_Troglodytes aedon
parkmanii_). Its alarm note is a “peculiarly ringing _dink_,” and its
song is said to excel, if possible, that of the House Wren. “What joyous
notes! * * * His song comes tripping down the scale growing so fast it
seems as if the songster could only stop by giving his odd little
flourish back up the scale again at the end. The ordinary song has seven
descending notes, but often, as if out of pure exuberance of happiness,
the Wren begins with a run of grace notes, ending with the same little
flourish. The rare character of the song is its rhapsody and the rich
vibrant quality which has suggested the name of bugler for him—and a
glorious little bugler he surely is” (Mrs. Bailey).
_Mimidæ_—The Mockingbirds
No. 123.
SAGE THRASHER.
A. O. U. No. 702. Oroscoptes montanus Townsend.
Synonyms.—Sage Mocker. Mountain Mocking-bird (early name—inapropos).
Description.—_Adults_: General plumage ashy brown, lighter below;
above grayish- or ashy-brown, the feathers, especially on crown,
streaked mesially with darker brown; wings and tail dark grayish brown
with paler edgings; middle and greater coverts narrowly tipped with
whitish, producing two dull bars; outer rectrices broadly tipped with
white, decreasing in area, till vanishing on central pair; lores
grayish; a pale superciliary line; cheeks brownish varied by white;
underparts whitish tinged with buffy brown, most strongly on flanks
and crissum, everywhere (save, usually, on throat, lower belly, and
under tail-coverts) streaked with dusky, the streaks tending to
confluence along side of throat, sharply distinguished and
wedge-shaped on breast, where also heaviest; bill blackish paling on
mandible; legs and feet dusky brownish, the latter with yellow soles;
iris lemon-yellow. _Young_ birds are browner and more decidedly
streaked above; less distinctly streaked below. Length about 8.00
(203); wing 3.82 (97); tail 3.54 (90); bill .65 (16.4); tarsus 1.20
(30.5).
Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; ashy-brown plumage appearing nearly
uniform at distance; sage-haunting habits; impetuous song.
Nesting.—_Nest_, a substantial structure of thorny twigs (_Sarcobatus_
preferred), usually slightly domed, with a heavy inner cup of fine
bark (sage) strips, placed without attempt at concealment in sage-bush
or greasewood. _Eggs_, 4 or 5, rich, dark, bluish green, heavily
spotted or blotched with rich rufous and “egg-gray”—among the
handsomest. Av. size, .98 × .71 (24.9 × 18). _Season_: May 1-June 15;
two (?) broods.
General Range.—Western United States from western part of the Great
Plains (western South Dakota, western Nebraska, and eastern Colorado)
north to Montana, west to the Cascades and Sierra Nevada, south into
New Mexico, Lower California, and, casually, to Guadalupe Island.
Range in Washington.—Treeless portions of East-side; summer resident.
Authorities.—[“Sage Thrasher,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885),
p. 22.] Dawson, Wilson Bulletin, No. 39, June, 1902, p. 67. (T). D².
Ss¹. Ss².
Specimens.—U. of W. P. C.
It takes a poet to appreciate the desert. Those people who affect to
despise the sage are the same to whom stones are stones instead of
compacted histories of the world’s youth, and clouds are clouds instead
of legions of angels. It is no mark of genius then to despise common
things. The desert has cradled more of the world’s good men and great
than ever were coddled in king’s palaces. Whistler used to paint
“symphonies in gray” and men held back questioning, “Er—is this art?” A
few, bolder than their fellows, pronounced favorably upon it, and it is
allowable now to admit that Whistler was a great artist—that is, a great
discoverer and revealer of Nature.
Nature has painted upon our eastern hills a symphony in gray greens, a
canvas of artemisia, simple, ample, insistent. And still the people
stand before it hesitating—it is so common—is it considered beautiful,
pray? Well, at least a bird thinks so, a bird whose whole life has been
spent in the sage. Listen! The hour is sunrise. As we face the east,
heavy shadows still huddle about us and blend with the ill-defined
realities. The stretching sage-tops tremble with oblation before the
expectant sun. The pale dews are taking counsel for flight, but the
opalescent haze, pregnant with sunfire, yet tender with cool greens and
subtle azures, hovers over the altar waiting the concomitance of the
morning hymn before ascent. Suddenly, from a distant sage-bush bursts a
geyser of song, a torrent of tuneful waters, gushing, as it would seem,
from the bowels of the wilderness in an ecstacy of greeting and
gratitude and praise. It is from the throat of the Sage Thrasher, poet
of the bitter weed, that the tumult comes. Himself but a gray shadow,
scarce visible in the early light, he pours out his soul and the soul of
the sage in a rhapsody of holy joy. Impetuous, impassioned, compelling,
rises this matchless music of the desert. To the silence of the
gray-green canvas, beautiful but incomplete, has come the throb and
thrill of life,—life brimful, delirious, exultant. The freshness and the
gladness of it touch the soul as with a magic. The heart of the listener
glows, his veins tingle, his face beams. He cannot wait to analyze. He
must dance and shout for joy. The wine of the wilderness is henceforth
in his veins, and drunk with ecstacy he reels across the enchanted scene
forever more.
And all this inspiration the bird draws from common sage and the rising
of the common sun. How does he do it? I do not know. Ask Homer, Milton,
Keats.
No. 124.
CATBIRD.
A. O. U. No. 704. Dumetella carolinensis (Linn.).
Description.—_Adult_: Slate-color, lightening almost imperceptibly
below; black on top of head and on tail; under tail-coverts chestnut,
sometimes spotted with slaty; bill and feet black. Length 8.00-9.35
(203.2-237.5); wing 3.59 (91.2); tail 3.65 (92.7); bill .62 (15.8).
Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; almost uniform slaty coloration with
thicket-haunting habits distinctive; lithe and slender as compared
with Water Ouzel.
Nesting.—_Nest_, of twigs, weed-stalks, vegetable fibers, and trash,
carefully lined with fine rootlets, placed at indifferent heights in
bushes or thickets. _Eggs_, 4-5, deep emerald-green, glossy. Av. size,
.95 × .69 (24.1 × 17.5). _Season_, first two weeks in June; one brood.
General Range.—Eastern United States and British Provinces, west
regularly to and including the Rocky Mountains, irregularly to the
Pacific Coast from British Columbia to central California. Breeds from
the Gulf States northward to the Saskatchewan. Winters in the southern
states, Cuba, and middle America to Panama. Bermuda, resident.
Accidental in Europe.
Range in Washington.—Summer resident; not uncommon but locally
distributed in eastern and especially northeastern Washington;
penetrates deepest mountain valleys on eastern slope of Cascades, and
is regularly established in certain West-side valleys connected by low
passes. Casual at Seattle, and elsewhere at sea-level.
Authorities.—_Galeoscoptes carolinensis_, Belding, Land Birds of the
Pacific District (1890), p. 226 (Walla Walla by J. W. Williams, 1885).
D¹. Ss¹. Ss². J.
Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. P. C.
Those who hold either a good or a bad opinion of the Catbird are
one-sided in their judgment. Two, and not less than two, opinions are
possible of one and the same bird. He is both imp and angel, a
“feathered Mephistopheles” and “a heavenly singer.” But this is far from
saying that the bird lives a double life in the sense ordinarily
understood, for in the same minute he is grave, gay, pensive and
clownish. Nature made him both a wag and a poet, and it is no wonder if
the roguishness and high philosophy become inextricably entangled. One
moment he steps forth before you as sleek as Beau Brummel, graceful,
polished, equal-eyed; then he cocks his head to one side and squints at
you like a thief; next he hangs his head, droops wings and tail, and
looks like a dog being lectured for killing sheep;—Presto, change! the
bird pulls himself up to an extravagant height and with exaggerated
gruffness, croaks out, “Who are you?” Then without waiting for an answer
to his impudent question, the rascal sneaks off thru the bushes, hugging
every feather close to his body, delivering a running fire of cat-calls,
squawks, and expressions of contempt. There is no accounting for him; he
is an irrepressible—and a genius.
The Catbird is not common in Washington, save in the northeastern
portion of the State, where it is well established. Miss Jennie V. Getty
finds them regularly at North Bend, and there is a Seattle record; so
that there is reason to believe that the Catbird is one of those few
species which are extending their range by encroachment from neighboring
territory. There can be no question that civilization is conducive to
the bird’s welfare, primarily by increasing the quantity of its cover on
the East-side, and, possibly, by reducing it on the West. Catbirds, when
at home, are found in thickets and in loose shrubbery. River-banks are
lined with them, and chaparral-covered hillsides have their share; but
they also display a decided preference for the vicinage of man, and, if
allowed to, will frequent the orchards and the raspberry bushes. They
help themselves pretty freely to the fruit of the latter, but their
services in insect-eating compensate for their keep, a hundred-fold.
Nests are placed almost anywhere at moderate heights, but thickety
places are preferred, and the wild rosebush is acknowledged to be the
ideal spot. The birds exhibit the greatest distress when their nest is
disturbed, and the entire neighborhood is aroused to expressions of
sympathy by their pitiful cries.
My friend, Dr. James Ball Naylor, of Malta, Ohio, tells the following
story in answer to the oft-repeated question, Do animals reason? The
poet’s house nestles against the base of a wooded hill and looks out
upon a spacious well-kept lawn which is studded with elm trees. The
place is famous for birds and the neighborhood is equally famous for
cats. Robins occasionally venture to glean angle worms upon the inviting
expanses of this lawn, but for a bird to attempt to cross it unaided by
wing would be to invite destruction as in the case of a lone soldier
climbing San Juan hill. One day, however, a fledgling Catbird,
overweening and disobedient, we fear, fell from its nest overhead and
sat helpless on the dreaded slopes. The parents were beside themselves
with anxiety. The birdie could not fly and would not flutter to any
purpose. There was no enemy in sight but it was only by the sufferance
of fate, and moments were precious. In the midst of it all the mother
disappeared and returned presently with a fat green worm, which she held
up to baby at a foot’s remove. Baby hopped and floundered forward to the
juicy morsel, but when he had covered the first foot, the dainty was
still six inches away. Mama promised it to him with a flood of
encouragement for every effort, but as often as the infant advanced the
mother retreated, renewing her blandishments. In this way she coaxed her
baby across the lawn and up, twig by twig, to the top of an osage-orange
hedge which bounded it. Here, according to Dr. Naylor, she fed her child
the worm.
Comparing the scolding and call notes of the Catbird with the mewing of
a cat has perhaps been a little overdone, but the likeness is strong
enough to lodge in the mind and to fasten the bird’s “trivial name” upon
it forever. Besides a mellow _phut, phut_ in the bush, the bird has an
aggravating _mee-a-a_, and a petulant call note which is nothing less
than _Ma-a-ry_. Cautious to a degree and timid, the bird is oftener
heard in the depth of the thicket than elsewhere, but he sometimes
mounts the tree-top, and the opening “_Phut, phut, coquillicot_”—as
Neltje Blanchan hears it—is the promise of a treat.
Generalizations are apt to be inadequate when applied to singers of such
brilliant and varied gifts as the Catbird’s. It would be impertinent to
say: _Homo sapiens_ has a cultivated voice and produces music of the
highest order. Some of us do and some of us do not. Similarly some
Catbirds are “self-conscious and affected,” “pause after each phrase to
mark its effect upon the audience,” etc. Some lack originality, feeling,
are incapable of sustained effort, cannot imitate other birds, etc. But
some Catbirds are among the most talented singers known. One such I
remember, which, overcome by the charms of a May day sunset, mounted the
tip of a pasture elm, and poured forth a hymn of praise in which every
voice of woodland and field was laid under contribution. Yet all were
suffused by the singer’s own emotion. Oh, how that voice rang out upon
the still evening air! The bird sang with true feeling, an artist in
every sense, and the delicacy and accuracy of his phrasing must have
silenced a much more captious critic than I. Never at a loss for a note,
never pausing to ask himself what he should sing next, he went steadily
on, now with a phrase from Robin’s song, now with the shrill cry of the
Red-headed Woodpecker, each softened and refined as his own infallible
musical taste dictated; now and again he interspersed these with bits of
his own no less beautiful. The carol of Vireo, the tender ditties of the
Song and Vesper Sparrows, and the more pretentious efforts of Grosbeaks,
had all impressed themselves upon this musician’s ear, and he repeated
them, not slavishly, but with discernment and deep appreciation. As the
sun sank lower in the west I left him there, a dull gray bird, with form
scarcely outlined against the evening sky, but my soul had taken flight
with his—up into that blest abode where all Nature’s voices are blended
into one, and all music is praise.
[Illustration: _Taken near Stehekin._ _Photo by the Author._
A HAUNT OF THE CATBIRD.]
_Cinclidæ_—The Dippers
No. 125.
AMERICAN WATER OUZEL.
A. O. U. No. 701. Cinclus mexicanus unicolor (Bonap.).
Synonym.—American Dipper.
Description.—_Adults in spring and summer_: General plumage slaty gray
paling below; tinged with brown on head and neck; wings and tail
darker, blackish slate; eyelids touched with white; bill black; feet
yellowish. _Adults in fall and winter, and immature_: Feathers of
underparts margined with whitish and some whitish edging on wings;
bill lighter, brownish. _Young_ birds are much lighter below; the
throat is nearly white and the feathers of remaining under plumage are
broadly tipped with white and have wash of rufous posteriorly—tips of
wing-feathers and, occasionally, tail-feathers extensively white; bill
yellow. Length of adult 6.00-7.00 (152-178); wing 3.54 (90); tail 1.97
(50); bill .68 (17.3); tarsus 1.12 (28.5).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size but _chunky_, giving impression of a
“better” bird. Slaty coloration and water-haunting habits distinctive.
Nesting.—_Nest_: a large ball of green moss lined with fine grasses,
and with entrance on side; lodged among rocks, fallen timber, roots,
etc., near water. _Eggs_: 4 or 5, pure white. Av. size, 1.02 × .70
(25.9 × 17.8). _Season_: April-June; one or two broods.
General Range.—The mountains of western North America from the
northern boundary of Mexico and northern Lower California to northern
Alaska. Resident.
Range in Washington.—Of regular occurrence along all mountain streams.
Retires to lower levels, even, rarely, to sea-coast in winter.
Authorities.—_Cinclus mortoni_, Townsend, Narrative, April, 1839, p.
339. Also _C. townsendi_ “Audubon,” Ibid., p. 340. T. C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹.
Ra. D². B. E.
Specimens.—Prov. B. E.
“Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing;
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending,
All at once and all o’er, with a mighty uproar;
And this way the Water comes down at Lodore.”
But the scene of aqueous confusion was incomplete unless a leaden shape
emerged from the spray, took station on a jutting rock, and proceeded to
rub out certain gruff notes of greeting, _jigic, jigic, jigic_. These
notes manage somehow to dominate or to pierce the roar of the cataract,
and they symbolize henceforth the turbulence of all the mountain
torrents of the West.
The Water Ouzel bobs most absurdly as he repeats his inquiry after your
health. But you would far rather know of his, for he has just come out
of the icy bath, and as he sidles down the rock, tittering expectantly,
you judge he is contemplating another one. Yes; without more ado the
bird wades into the stream where the current is so swift you are sure it
would sweep a man off his feet. He disappears beneath its surface and
you shudder at the possibilities, but after a half minute of suspense he
bursts out of the seething waters a dozen feet below and flits back to
his rock chuckling cheerily. This time, it may be, he will rest, and you
have opportunity to note the slightly _retroussé_ aspect of the beak in
its attachment to the head. The bird has stopped springing now and
stands as stolid as an Indian, save as ever and again he delivers a slow
wink, upside down, with the white nictitating membrane.
It has been asserted that the Ouzel flies under water, but I think that
this is a mistake, except as it may use its wings to reach the surface
of the water after it has released its hold upon the bottom. The bird
creeps and clings, rather, and is thus able to withstand a strong
current as well as to attain a depth of several feet in quieter waters.
The Water Ouzel feeds largely upon the larvæ of the caddice fly, known
locally as periwinkles. These are found clinging to the under surface of
stones lining the stream, and their discovery requires quite a little
prying and poking on the bird’s part. The Ouzels are also said to be
destructive to fish fry, insomuch that the director of a hatchery in
British Columbia felt impelled to order the destruction of all the
Ouzels, to the number of several hundred, which wintered along a certain
protected stream. This was a very regrettable necessity, if necessity it
was, and one which might easily lead to misunderstanding between
bird-men and fish-men. We are fond of trout ourselves, but we confess to
being a great deal fonder of this adventuresome water-sprite.
The Ouzel is non-migratory, but the summer haunts of the birds in the
mountains are largely closed to them in winter, so that they find it
necessary at that season to retreat to the lower levels. This is done,
as it were, reluctantly, and nothing short of the actual blanketing of
snow or ice will drive them to forsake the higher waters. The bird is
essentially solitary at this season, as in summer, and when it repairs
to a lower station, along late in November, there is no little strife
engendered by the discussion of metes and bounds. In the winter of
1895-6, being stationed at Chelan, I had occasion to note that the same
Ouzels appeared daily along the upper reaches of the Chelan River.
Thinking that such a local attachment might be due to similar occupation
down stream, I set out one afternoon to follow the river down for a mile
or so, and to ascertain, if possible, how many bird-squatters had laid
out claims along its turbulent course. In places where there was an
unusually long succession of rapids, it was not always possible to
decide between the conflicting interests of rival claimants, for they
flitted up and down overlapping by short flights each other’s domains;
but the very fact that these overlappings often occasioned sharp
passages at arms served to confirm the conclusion that the territory had
been divided, and that each bird was expected to dive and bob and gurgle
on his own beat. Thus, twenty-seven birds were found to occupy a stretch
of two miles.
Here in winter quarters, the first courting songs were heard. As early
as Christmas the birds began to tune up, and that quite irrespective of
weather. But their utterances were as rare in time as they are in
quality. In fact, it does not appear to be generally known that the
Water Ouzel is a beautiful singer, and none of those who have been so
fortunate as to hear its song, have heard enough to pass final judgment
on it. We know, at least, that it is clear and strong and vivacious, and
that in its utterance the bird recalls its affinity to both Thrushes and
Thrashers.
[Illustration: _Taken in California._ _Photo by Frederick Bade._
THE LAST STATION.
IN ANOTHER MOMENT THE OUZEL WILL VISIT HER BROOD UNDER THE WATERFALL.]
The Ouzel places its nest beside some brawling stream, or near or behind
some small cascade. In doing so, the chief solicitude seems to be that
the living mosses, of which the bulky globe is composed, shall be kept
moist by the flying spray, and so retain their greenness. Indeed, one
observer reports that in default of ready-made conveniences, the bird
itself turns sprinkler, not only alighting upon the dome of its house
after returning from a trip, but visiting the water repeatedly for the
sole purpose of shaking its wet plumage over the mossy nest.
Unless we mistake, the bird in the first picture is about to visit a
nest behind the waterfall, and of such a nest Mr. John Keast Lord says:
“I once found the nest of the American Dipper built amongst the roots of
a large cedar-tree that had floated down the stream and got jammed
against the mill-dam of the Hudson Bay Company’s old grist mill, at Fort
Colville, on a tributary to the upper Columbia River. The water rushing
over a jutting ledge of rocks, formed a small cascade, that fell like a
veil of water before the dipper’s nest; and it was curious to see the
birds dash thru the waterfall rather than go in at the sides, and in
that way get behind it. For hours I have sat and watched the busy pair,
passing in and out thru the fall, with as much apparent ease as an
equestrian performer jumps thru a hoop covered with tissue paper. The
nest was ingeniously constructed to prevent the spray from wetting the
interior, the moss being so worked over the entrance as to form an
admirable verandah.”
[Illustration: _Taken in Oregon._ _Photo by A. W. Anthony._
AN UNSHELTERED NEST.]
Of the nest shown in the accompanying illustration, Mr. A. W. Anthony
says that it was completed under unusual difficulties. A party of
surveyors, requiring to bridge a stream in eastern Oregon, first laid a
squared stringer. This an Ouzel promptly seized upon, and in token of
proprietorship began to heap up moss. This arrangement did not comport
with business and the nest foundations were brushed aside on two
successive mornings. A spell of bad weather intervening, the men
returned to their work some days later to find the completed nest, as
shown, completed but still unoccupied. It was necessary to remove this
also, but judge of the feelings of the surveyors when, upon the
following morning, they found a single white egg resting upon the bare
timber!
_Hirundinidæ_—The Swallows
No. 126.
PURPLE MARTIN.
A. O. U. No. 611. Progne subis (Linn.).
Description.—_Adult male_: Rich, purplish black, glossy and metallic;
wings and tail dead black. _Adult female_: Similar to male, but
blue-black of upperparts restricted and duller; forehead, hind-neck,
and lower parts sooty gray, paler on belly and crissum. Bill black,
stout, and broad at the base, decurved near tip; nostrils exposed,
circular, opening upward; feet moderately stout. _Young males_:
resemble adult female but are somewhat darker, the steely blue
appearing at first in patches. Length 7.25-8.50 (184.2-215.9); av. of
eight specimens: wing 5.75 (146.1); tail 2.72 (69.1): bill, breadth at
base .73 (18.5); length from nostril .33 (8.4).
Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; the largest of the Swallows;
blue-black, or blue-black and sooty-gray coloration.
Nesting.—_Nest_, of leaves, grass, and trash, in some cavity, usually
artificial,—bird-boxes, gourds, etc. _Eggs_, 4-5, rarely 6, pure,
glossy white. Av. size, .98 × .73 (24.9 × 18.5). _Season_, first week
in June; one brood.
General Range.—Temperate North America, except southern portion of
Pacific Coast district, north to Ontario and the Saskatchewan, south
to the higher parts of Mexico, wintering in South America.
Range in Washington.—Not common summer resident—nearly confined to
business sections of the larger cities.
Migrations.—_Spring_: c. April 15; Tacoma, April 1, 1905. _Fall_: c.
Sept. 1st.
Authorities.—Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II.
1860, p. 136. (T). C&S. [L]. Rh. Ra. Kk. B. E.
Specimens.—Prov. B. E.
This virtually rare bird appears to be strictly confined during its
summer residence with us to the business districts of our larger
West-side cities. Records are in from Seattle, Tacoma, Olympia,
Bellingham, Vancouver, and Victoria only. Really, if this favoritism
continues, we shall begin to think of imposing a new test for cities of
the first class; viz., Do the Martins nest with you?
Suckley remembers a time when, in the early Fifties, a few Martins were
to be seen about the scrub oaks of the Nisqually Plains, in whose
hollows and recesses they undoubtedly nested; but all Washington birds
have long since adopted the ways of civilization. April 1st is the
earliest return I have noted, and we are not surprised if they fail to
put in an appearance before the 1st of May. Their movements depend
largely upon the weather, and even if they have come back earlier they
are likely to mope indoors when the weather is cold and disagreeable.
The birds feed exclusively upon insects, and are thus quite at the mercy
of a backward spring. Not only flies and nits are consumed, but bees,
wasps, dragon flies, and some of the larger predatory beetles as well.
The birds mate soon after arrival, and for a home they select some
crevice or hidey-hole about a building. A cavity left by a missing brick
is sufficient, or a station on the eave-plate of a warehouse. Old nests
are renovated and new materials are brought in, straw, string, and trash
for the bulk of the nest, and abundant feathers for lining. Sometimes
the birds exhibit whimsical tastes. Mr. S. F. Rathbun of Seattle found a
nest which was composed entirely of wood shavings mixed with string and
fragments of the woven sheath which covers electric light wires.
The nest is not often occupied till June, when the birds may be most
certain of finding food for their offspring; and the rearing of a single
brood is a season’s work. Five eggs are almost invariably the number
laid, and they are of a pure white color, the shell being very little
glossed and of a coarser grain than is the case with eggs of the other
Swallows.
Purple Martins are very sociable birds, and a voluble flow of small talk
is kept up by them during the nesting season. The song, if such it may
be called, is a succession of pleasant warblings and gurglings,
interspersed with harsh rubbing and creaking notes. A particularly
mellow _coo, coo, coo_, recurs from time to time, and any of the notes
seem to require considerable effort on the part of the performer.
It will prove to be a sad day for the Martins when the English Sparrows
take full possession of our cities. The Martins are not deficient in
courage, but they cannot endure the presence of the detested foreigners.
The Sparrows are filthy creatures, and it may be that the burden of the
vermin, which they invariably introduce to their haunts, bears more
heavily upon the skins of our more delicately constituted citizens than
upon their own swinish hides.
No. 127.
CLIFF SWALLOW.
A. O. U. No. 612. Petrochelidon lunifrons (Say).
Synonyms.—Eave Swallow. Republican Swallow.