(3
re
ye
wyess
SP eye ve
xing
ee
Asia
rier
a
=
s
The Birds of Calitornia
Copy No. f/f _
Patrons’ Edition, De Luxe
SUBSCRIBED BY
FOR
This edition comprises the first choice of selected
sheets from the first impressions of the format de
luxe of “The Birds of California;” and its circula-
tion is limited to an approved clientele of 250
os LA ) ern
Wiehe i“
The Birds of California
A Complete, Scientific and
Popular Account of the 580 any and Subspecies of Birds
Found in the State
By
William Leon Dawson
of Santa Barbara
Director of the International Museum o} f Comparativ e Odlagy, Author of “The Birds of Ohio"
: and (with Mr. Bowles) of “The Birds of W ashington”
Ulustrated by go Photogravures, 120 Full-page Duotone Plates and More Than
1100 Half-tone Cuts of Birds in Life, Nests, Eggs, and
Favorite Haunts, from Photographs
Chiefly by
Donald R. Dicer. pins M. Pierce, Wm. L. Finley
and hs e is Ono
T1O . d :
Together with ta te an aw aa n the é anda Series of
4 life size
110 Full-pa 18, about 3¢
From a Full-page painting by Allan Brooks
Chiefly by
Major Allan Brooks
: Format De Luxe
Patrons’ Edition
Complete in Four Volumes
Volume One
: South Moulton Company
San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco ~
1923
Sald Only by Subscription. All Rights Reserved &
The Birds of California
A Complete, Scientific and
Popular Account of the 580 Species and Subspecies of Birds
Found in the State
By
William Leon Dawson
of Santa Barbara
Director of the International Museum of Comparative Odlogy, Author of “The Birds of Ohio”
and (with Mr. Bowles) of “The Birds of Washington”
Illustrated by 30 Photogravures, 120 Full-page Duotone Plates and More Than
1100 Half-tone Cuts of Birds in Life, Nests, Eggs, and
Favorite Haunts, from Photographs
Chiefly by
Donald R. Dickey, Wright M. Pierce, Wm. L. Finley
and the Author
Together with 44 Drawings in the Text and a Series of
tro Full-page Color Plates
Chiefly by
Major Allan Brooks
Format De Luxe
Patrons’ Edition
Complete in Four Volumes
Volume One
South Moulton Company
San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco
1923
Sold Only by Subscription. All Rights Reserved
TEXT, DUOTONE-PLATES AND PHOTOGRAVURES,
BUT NOT THE COLOR-PLATES, CoPpyRIGHT 1921 AND 1923
BY
WILLIAM LEON DAWSON
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
Composition by Typographic Service Co., Los Angeles.
Press-work by Wolfer Printing Co., Los Angeles.
Four-color half-tone plates chiefly by Star Engraving Co., Los Angeles.
Photogravures by Suffolk Engraving & Electrotyping Co., Cambridge.
Duotones entirely and half-tones chiefly by Star Engraving Co.
Binding by Leather Products and Finishing Co., Los Angeles.
TO
Ellen Browning Scripps
Lover of the human kind and of birds and of flowers and of books
Patron of science and of art and of education
Whose steadfast faith has made its publication possible
This work is gratefully
Dedicated
Pretace
SINCE the dawn of the scientific era the study of birds, ornithology, has occupied
an honorable place. Men like Linneus, Brisson and Cuvier, Temminck, Vieillot, Forbes
and Gray, and more recently, Gadow, Evans and Hartert, Sharpe, Ridgway, Oberholser
and Grinnell, have expounded its technique; while apostles like Audubon and Gould,
Baird, Newton and Coues, Hudson, Chapman and Beebe, have published its gospel and
immortalized its claims. Without claiming either the technical equipment of a Ridg-
way or the apostolic fervor of an Audubon, the author has tried nevertheless to do a
rough justice to the dual claims of descriptive science and of artistic interpretation in
a field which he realizes to be singularly favored, not alone for the variety and wealth
of its bird life, but for the number and quality of its human inhabitants. As a citizen
by choice of the Golden State, the writer can truly say that California seems to offer
unparalleled advantages for bird study. Indeed, its range of avian interest is fairly
typified by the fact that within its borders a bird of modest powers, as a Clark Nut-
cracker, might breakfast (somewhat sparingly) at the lowest point upon the American
continent, viz., in the Death Valley, and lunch (even more austerely) upon the highest
point of land in the United States, viz., the summit of Mt. Whitney, 14,501 feet above
the level of the sea. California is the land of contrasts, and the description of its
vividly contrasting and kaleidoscopic bird-life is, perhaps, the most privileged task
which might fall to the lot of an ornithologist.
It is the province of this work to appreciate and, so far as possible, to express, not
alone the conceptual entities of science called species, but the very persons and lives
of those hundreds of millions of our fellow travelers and sojourners, called birds, the
birds of California. To this end the birds have been viewed not alone through the
rigid eye of science, but through the more roving, or tolerant, or even penetrating eye
of the poet, the interpreter, the apologist—the mystic even—the at-all-times bird-lover.
With such a broad claim of latitude, it goes without saying that ‘‘The Birds of
California’ is anything but ‘‘complete,’’ in the sense of having said all that might be
said about any given species. Our effort has been rather to present a conspectus of
bird-life in California in its true proportions of interest. The commoner or more impor-
tant species have been allowed a much greater space, precisely on this account, that they
are common and important. Nor is it possible to claim completeness on the ground
that all the conclusions of other workers are herein recorded. While it is true that all
the major sources of information have been catalogued and consulted, it remains true
also that this work is essentially an original and personal contribution. The author
is a poor compiler. There are many who are gifted in this direction, and they have
performed valuable service. Yet we have had so many digests and rehashes and
meticulous accumulations of disconnected notes, that it has seemed worth while, for
lil
once, to break away and start afresh. It is for this reason that the author has relig-
iously abstained from reading Audubon or Wilson, or indeed any of the “‘old masters’’—
to the end that he might see his birds with fresh eyes and use, if possible, an unworn
language. This has entailed real sacrifice, but it may also prove to have been a real gain.
Yet having said so much by way of apology for alleged originality, I have done
scant justice to the magnificent accumulations of the Cooper Ornithological Club in
“The Condor’ (now in its twenty-fifth year), or, indeed, to my own dependence upon
it. Through the courtesy of the Club itself and of one of its business managers, Mr.
W. Lee Chambers, I have been supplied with a double file of ‘‘The Condor”’ for clipping,
and have made large use of it. ‘‘The Birds of California’ is, therefore, essentially a
free digest of the codperative work accomplished in California during the past quarter
of a century. My thanks are due, both individually and collectively, to all contribu-
tors of ‘‘The Condor,” and to a lesser degree of ‘‘The Auk’’; and my only regret is that
the more impatient movement of my own particular genre has precluded the possibility
of doing exact justice to all available sources.
Consistency in the interpretation of bird-life is as impossible today as it was twenty
years ago. Most of us who follow the birds are partly scientist, partly sportsman, and
partly poet. Each interest in turn combats the others, or is at least seen to be incon-
sistent with them. Nevertheless, even here some ground has been gained. The field
of ‘‘sport,’’ i. e., of bird-killing as sport, has been more and more sharply restricted,
until its fundamental inconsistencies are beginning to appear. An outlet for honest
energies has, however, been provided by bird photography and, indeed, by note-taking.
In science, likewise, the ample accumulations of the larger museums have made it un-
necessary that the serious student of ornithology should always lug about a shot-gun.
Modern binoculars increase the field efficiency of the student eight or ten times, and the
liabilities of error are correspondingly reduced. Here also the new scientific sport
of bird-banding (accomplished by a painless method of trapping) is likely to displace
the cruder method of bird-killing, and this bids fair to accomplish tenfold greater results
for science.
A tremendous gain has been made during the last three decades in the sentimental
attitude toward birds. The pursuit of birds with sticks and stones and guns and the
indiscriminate robbing of birds’ nests have given way to intelligent interest and a
solicitous care for the welfare of the birds on the part of old and young. Too much
credit for this salutary result cannot be given to the National Association of Audubon
Societies, and to its affiliated societies which exist throughout the land. That the inter-
est thus aroused has not always exhibited the characteristics of maturity, and that, in
turn, some incidental injustice has been done to science, goes without saying. Never-
theless, there now exists a splendid and alert interest in birds on the part of the American
people, and to such a body of interest science presents its case with confidence and
rejoicing.
In the preparation of this work the author has enjoyed unusual opportunities of
study and travel afield. Work has been conducted in all but four of California’s fifty-
eight counties, and the ones omitted are homogeneous in character with the regions
visited. In a realm so vast and so varied as California, however, one must be privi-
leged indeed who could claim complete understanding of its diverse topographical and
faunistic elements. For myself, I confess to a sense of utter inadequacy. There are
1V
still uncharted depths and unscaled heights in California, and a wilderness so wide-
spread and so near at hand that one might deliberately lose himself in its mazes within
two hours of almost any given point. Field work has been conducted chiefly in the
breeding season, say April to July, and one season was spent in Arizona with a view to
getting a quicker, surer knowledge of the desert species which invade our own borders.
If a disproportionate interest seems to attach to the treatments of the mountain-
dwelling species, it is with deliberate intention to promote a quicker enthusiasm for
these unfrequented fastnesses.
The author is also under deep obligation to many years of bird questing spent in
the State of Washington. The result of these experiences was embodied in a two-
volume work, ‘“‘The Birds of Washington,”’ published in 1909; and in the preparation
of this work the author enjoyed the coéperation of Mr. John Hooper Bowles, of Tacoma.
“The Birds of Washington”’ was obscurely published and of necessarily limited circu-
lation; and inasmuch as a good deal of its matter was exactly descriptive of conditions
obtaining in California, or at least concerned species found in California, it has been
unhesitatingly used as a supplementary source-book for ‘‘The Birds of California.”
The adaptation of passages has been most conscientiously done (I have a horror of
stale stuff), so that the northern flavor thus imparted to ‘‘The Birds of California’? may
be deemed to offset in a measure the stigma of residence south of the Tehachipe.
The plumage descriptions appearing in this work are based chiefly upon original
studies of material in the very adequate collections of the Museum of Vertebrate
Zoology in Berkeley. To the management of this institution and to its founder and
patroness, Miss Alexander, I tender my sincerest thanks for every courtesy. The
California Academy of Sciences, of San Francisco, and the Museum of History, Science
and Art, in Los Angeles, likewise placed every facility at my disposal, and I only regret
the limitations of time which precluded a more extended use of their excellent collections.
The order of treatment observed in the following pages is substantially the reverse
of that long followed by the American Ornithologists’ Union, and is justifiable princi-
pally on the ground that it follows a certain order of interest and convenience. Begin-
ning, as it does, with the supposedly highest forms of bird-life, it brings to the fore the
most familiar birds, and avoids that rude juxtaposition of the lowest form of one group
with the highest of the one above it which has been the confessed weakness of the
A. O. U. arrangement.
The outlines of classification have been rehearsed in the Table of Contents to each
volume, and a brief synopsis of generic, family, and ordinal characters will be found in
the Analytical Keys at the end of the work. It has not been thought best to give large
place to these matters, nor to intrude them upon the text, both because of the enormous
labor involved in a really original digest, and because the more technical character of
these investigations would probably interest only a small proportion of our clientele.
Several excellent manuals already exist in this field, and to these the more intrepid
student is referred.
The nomenclature is chiefly that of the A. O. U. Check-List, Third Edition,
revised to include more recent supplements. In a few instances attention has been
paid to outside suggestions, especially such as would tend to link up some of our Amer-
ican species of wide distribution with closely related European or Asiatic forms. I must
confess to having followed with a very special bias the opinions of our veteran taxono-
+
mist, Dr. Joseph Grinnell, and his no less gifted brother-in-law, Mr. Harry Swarth.
In some few cases I have differed from these authorities and have disallowed their
claims, not as being mistaken in fact, but as being, on occasion, too fine-spun or ethereal
for mortal allegiance. Other distinctions, no less finely shaded, I have allowed, for no
better reason, perhaps, than inertia or to show esprit de corps, or else to provide a dainty
target for a good-natured shaft. Taxonomy is not an exact science, and we are under
no bonds to an artificial consistency. Furthermore, it may be as well at the outset to
let the student into the secret of our perplexities. We have no wish either to mystify
him or to impress him with a show of infallibility. The realm of ornithology, and espe-
cially the field of taxonomy, has been much trampled and much shot over, yet there
may be rich ore just below the surface, cr even veritable oil domes of truth awaiting
release.
For subject headings I have selected names applicable to the species as a whole,
wherever found, provided two or more races of the species appear on the California list.
This will introduce certain names unfamiliar to western eyes, as, for example, ‘‘Solitary
Vireo,” instead of ‘‘Cassin Vireo’’; but it will have a salutary effect in stressing the value
of the species, and in restraining our tendency to regard geographical races as quasi-
species, through the operation of the naming fallacy. Calling the bird a Cassin Vireo
should not blind our eyes to the fact that it 7s a Solitary Vireo, only a shade different
from the eastern representative of this species. For those cases where only one sub-
species is found in California, there seems to be no recourse save to yield a quasi-specific
value to the local name. In the case of Zonotrichia gambeli gambeli and Z. g. nuttalli,
I have deliberately disregarded the rules, in order to stress the differences between the
two races, as well as to exemplify the fact that consistency is impossible where a hard
and fast mechanical device, like nomenclature, obscures phylogenetic differences
infinitely varied.
Considerable care, too, has been taken in the readjustment or reappraising of
common names; for experience shows that these may be more enduring than so-called
‘scientific’ names. In some instances I have used one designation in the subject title
and another for the same bird in the ‘running title.’’ By placing both before the public
it may be possible to establish through usage some ground of preference not now ap-
parent. Some names previously in use were misleading and have been frankly discarded;
but no departure from custom has been registered save for good reason.
In compiling General Ranges, I have been chiefly indebted to the A. O. U. Check-
List (3rd Edition), but have supplemented its findings by reference to Ridgway or
Bent, or to more explicitly western authorities. In determining the Ranges in Califor-
nia, | am under the deepest obligation, by permission, to Dr. Grinnell’s “Distributional
List’? (1915), as well as to other pamphlets published by the Cooper Ornithological
Club, notably those by Willett, Tyler and Howell. I have also kept accurate notes of
all occurrences throughout my own ornithological wanderings, and have thus been able
to confirm or to supplement Grinnell’s well-balanced conclusions.
In presenting the ‘‘Authorities,’’ I have been fortunate in enlisting the services of
Dr. Tracy I. Storer (about 60 paragraphs) and Mr. Harry Swarth, and these gentlemen
are responsible for the citations themselves. It was intended at first to offer only “‘first
publication,”’ the citation upon which inclusion as a bird of California rested, although
it was not always possible to secure even such. But it would have seemed a pity not to
vi
point the student at the same time to at least the major sources of information, near or
remote. Accordingly, leading references, to the limiting number of five or six, have
been provided, solely for the benefit of those who wish to carry their studies further.
Selections in many instances have had to be quite arbitrary; and in general the more
obvious source books, monographs, and special treatises, as well as the more compre-
hensive works of reference have been dismissed after a few citations. Continued refer-
ence to these approved sources would suggest itself to the student in any event, so our
effort has been directed rather to list the more fugitive and likely-to-be-overlooked
articles and reports, or else those of more striking regional significance.
Readers will remark an insistent odlogical note in these pages. The author has
long cherished a notion of the importance of the study of birds’ eggs in seeking to
resolve the problems of phylogenetic relationships, and indeed in arriving at some
measure of understanding of the nature and methods of life itself. Privileged years
have strengthened this conviction and have made clear to him the necessity of further
devotion to this task. In January, 1916, with the help of indulgent (but non-pro-
fessional) friends, the author established the Museum of Comparative Odlogy in Santa
Barbara. This institution cultivated its special field, with distinction, for a number
of years, and was, incidentally, of immense service to ‘‘The Birds of California:’’ but,
later, when the distinctive character of the institution began to alter, the author with-
drew and has since organized a new and purely scientific institution, the International
Museum of Comparative Odlogy. The new movement, which proposes to correlate
the interests of scientific odlogy throughout the world, boasts a membership in thirty-
four of the American States and in more than thirty foreign states and countries, and
gives promise, thus, of a considerable usefulness to science. My sincerest thanks are,
however, due to the old institution both for its practical support and for its consistent
appreciation of the prior claims of the bird-book.
But with this hasty review of technical matters we gladly return to a consideration
of the bird itself. Poet, legislator, scientist, sportsman, economist, sentimentalist—
how shall we get on together? How shall we agree whether to attack, or to cherish,
the traditions of bird lore? Who owns the birds? and what are they good for, anyhow?
A real principle of unity can be found only when we come to regard the birds’ value to
society, that is, to all of us taken together. The question then becomes, not, Is this
bird worth more to me in my collection or upon my plate than as a living actor in the
drama of life? but, In what capacity can this bird best serve the interests of mankind?
There can be no doubt that the answer to the latter question is usually and increasingly,
Asaliving bird. Stuffed specimens we need, but only a representative number of them;
only a limited few of us are fitted to enjoy the pleasures of the chase, and the objects
of our passion are rapidly passing from view anyway; but never while the hearts of
men are set on peace, and the minds of men are alert to receive the impressions of the
Infinite, will there be too many birds to speak to eye and ear, and to minister to the
hidden things of the spirit. The birds belong to the people, not to a clique or a coterie,
but to all the people as heirs and stewards of the good things of God.
It is of the esthetic value of the bird that we have tried to speak, not alone in our
descriptions but in our pictures. The author has a pleasant conviction, born of desire,
perhaps, that the bird in art is destined to figure much more largely in future years
than heretofore. We have learned something from the Japanese in this regard, but
Vil
more, perhaps, from the camera, whose revelations have marvelously justified the
conventional conclusions of Japanese decorative art. Nature is ever the nursing
mother of Art. While our function in the text has necessarily been interpretative, we
have preferred in the pictures to let Nature speak for herself, and we have held ourselves
and our artists to the strictest accounting for any retouching or modification of photo-
graphs. Except, therefore, as explicitly noted, the half-tones from photographs are
faithful presentations of life. If they inspire any with a sense of the beauty of things
as they are, or suggest to any the theme for some composition, whether on canvas,
fresco, vase, or tile, in things as they might be, then our labor will not have been in vain.
It affords us deep satisfaction to present 106 color plates from paintings by Major
Allan Brooks, for in our opinion this artist is without a peer in the delineation of birds.
Major Brooks, although a resident of British Columbia, has pursued extensive studies
in California, and was a welcome guest at ‘‘Los Colibris’’ for two winters. We regret
not having been able to avail ourselves further of the masterly work of Mr. Louis
Agassiz Fuertes, nor of that of Mr. George Miksch Sutton, a younger artist of brilliant
promise, although we are glad to present one plate each from these gentlemen.
The photographic work of Mr. Donald R. Dickey, of Pasadena, speaks for itself.
The author is under the deepest personal obligation to Mr. Dickey for his able and
enthusiastic codperation, a service which of itself would have assured the worthy
illustration of ‘‘The Birds of California.’’ In like manner, Mr. Wright M. Pierce, of
Claremont, has given without stint of the products of his photographic skill, and has
set us wishing that he might be persuaded to undertake bird photography as a pro-
fession. Mr. William L. Finley, of Oregon, is a well-known star in his own realm,
and he has generously spared us a few scintillations. Specific acknowledgement of
welcome contributions from other artists, both amateur and professional, is made in
connection with the half-tones themselves, and to all these gentlemen we extend our
hearty thanks.
To the Patrons and Subscribers of this work, as such, the author wishes to express
his sincerest thanks. The patience displayed by early subscribers to ‘‘The Birds of
California’’ is probably without parallel in publishing history, for the present publishers
hold, and honor, orders which were signed in November, 1910. While it is a satis-
faction to note that the promises of the early days have been more than redeemed
through the enlarged scope and enhanced illustrative equipment of the work itself, it
remains true that save for the timely support accorded by people of good will in the
old days (when the whole scheme was merely a vision on paper), the work could never
have been accomplished. Well said the prophet, Cast your bread upon the waters
and after many days it shall return unto you.
It is quite impossible for me to express the depth of my gratitude to Miss Ellen
B. Scripps, of La Jolla, who has proved herself not only an astute benefactor but a
courageous friend. From the time I first showed her some of Brooks’s pictures, back
in 1912, the thing I have been living for has appealed to her imagination, and the years
of our acquaintance have been marked by spacious courtesies. It is faith like hers
which sweetens life and answers our questions as to the compassion of the Infinite.
“The Birds of California’ was from its inception a codperative undertaking. Few
editorial ventures have ever owed so much to the spirit of good will and to generous
“Doosting”’ by disinterested friends. Brother scientists, fellow members of the Cooper
Vili
Ornithological Club, prominent subscribers, leaders of social activity and of opinion,
financiers, government officials, Audubonists, bird-lovers, artists, editors, photog-
raphers, collectors, and business associates—all have codperated with most commend-
able efficiency to make the production of the work an accomplished fact. It is
impossible even to enumerate the scores upon scores of well-wishers who deserve
honorable mention. In making, therefore, partial acknowledgement of courtesies
and debts of honor to those preéminent in service, I ask the indulgence of others not
less generous, if unnamed. To the following ladies and gentlemen and institutions
my most grateful acknowledgements are due: To Dr. Joseph Grinnell for sponsorship
and every courtesy; to Mr. William E. Colby for faithful and otherwise unrewarded
service as President of ‘“‘The Birds of California Publishing Company; to Messrs.
Harry Swarth, H. W. Carriger, F. E. Newbury, A. B. Howell, W. Lee Chambers, H. C.
Bryant, and D. H. Schauer for services as trustees in that Company; to Messrs.
W. Lee Chambers, A. B. Howell, H. W. Carriger, and H. S. Swarth for personal and pro-
fessional codperation of the most unfaltering type; to Messrs. Leverett M. Loomis,
Frank S. Daggett, Barton W. Evermann, Donald R. Dickey, John Rowley, Harold C.
Bryant, Tracy I. Storer, Joseph Dixon, L. E. Wyman, Wright M. Pierce, and Adriaan
van Rossem for personal and professional courtesies of every sort; to Messrs. A. G.
Vrooman, C. I. Clay, Fred Truesdale, Robert Canterbury, and William O. Dawson
for valued assistance afield; and to the following for codperation of every sort, financial,
social and personal: Mr. John W. Mailliard, Mr. Joseph Mailliard, Mr. William
H. Crocker, Mr. Henry E. Huntington, Miss Annie M. Alexander, Mr. Robert Oxnard,
Mr. Rowland G. Hazard, Mr. E. P. Ripley, Dr. David Starr Jordan, Dr. Ray Lyman
Wilbur, Mrs. Elizabeth Grinnell, Mrs. Robert J. Burdette, Miss Mary Foy, Mr.
O. W. Howard, Mrs. Harriet Williams Myers, Judge H. W. O'Melveny, Dr. Chas. W.
Browning, Mr. A. P. Redington, Mr. H. G. Chase, Mr. George S. Edwards, Mr. Joel
Remington Fithian, Mrs. Lora J. Moore Knight, Miss Caroline Hazard, Mr. Reginald
Fernald, Mr. Frank M. Selover, Miss Donna J. Youmans, Mr. George O. Knapp, Mr.
John B. Henck, Mr. Bernhard Hoffmann, Mr. J. R. Pemberton, Mr. Frank C. Willard,
Mr. O. P. Silliman, Mr. W. A. Strong, Mr. George W. Marston, Mr. John G. Howell,
Dr. William Frederick Badé, Prof. Charles E. Kofoid, Dr. Ralph Arnold, Mrs. Agnes
Allerton, Miss Aurelia S. Harwood, Miss Kate Ellen Walker, Mr. Frank H. Holmes,
Mr. John Lewis Childs, Mr. A. C. Bent, Hon. Theodore Roosevelt, Dr. Henry Fairfield
Osborn, Mr. P. B. Philipp, Mr. J. C. Harper, Mr. Curtis Hillyer, and Mr. Joseph
M. Burnett.
Mr. Frank Stephens, whose name is deeply imbedded in the annals of ornithology
in California, has done me the incomparable courtesy of placing his MS copy of a pro-
jected ‘‘Birds of California’ at my disposal. I am indebted to it for many citations
and for additional light upon desert species which this veteran authority knows better,
perhaps, than anyone else.
My special thanks are due to Dr. Harold C. Bryant, of Berkeley, who because of his
more extended acquaintance with them has prepared several of the articles upon the
geese, and to Mr. Griffing Bancroft, of San Diego, who has kindly supplied the account
of the Xantus Murrelet.
To my wife, Frances, I owe an unpayable debt of gratitude for unsparing devotion
through the years to the task of manuscript preparation and revision, and, latterly,
ise
for assistance in press supervision. Only Mrs. Dawson's defiant modesty precludes
the appearance of her name with mine upon the title-page, for though she disclaims
anexact knowledge of birds (the dear lady still asks ‘‘ Now was that the Bewick Wren?’’—
when the Titmouse yodels), she really knows about all there is to know of the making
of bird-books, and as for grammatical distinctions I am putty in her hands. The
reader perceives our common good fortune.
To Miss Fedora E. D. Brown the author is indebted for artistic codperation in the
handling of prints, and to Mrs. Cornelia N. Shup for unusually able assistance in proof-
reading. Mr. Ray Bradfish is chiefly responsible for the art work upon the half-tones
and for the designing of the bindings. His capable codperation is deeply appreciated.
No publication, I believe. has ever enlisted a more competent and devoted alle-
giance of the printing trades and of their trained workers. The very office boys have
wrought on this work for the glory of accomplishment. My thanks are due to the
several firms which executed the project and to their always courteous managers.
In especial, whatever credit of workmanly finish is accruing for the physical volumes
is due to A. R. Warren, foreman of composition, Carl Seybold, ‘“‘lock-up man,"’ James
Butters, foreman of color engraving, Mickey Ferguson, press foreman, John Griesinger,
binding supervisor, and John Cairncross, to whom was entrusted the delicate task of
“chopping up”’ half a million dollars’ worth of printed forms into the single sheets
required by our revolutionary system of binding. These have been the real ‘‘captains
of industry,’ and their troops have been, without exception, both skilled and loyal.
It is the valued privilege of one who promotes the circulation of a subscription
work to establish a more or less personal relation with his subscribers. In view of
this may I be permitted to speak a direct and concluding word regarding the work
itself and regarding the future of the science in California? ‘‘The Birds of California”
is more elaborately conceived than any previous work upon birds in America. It
will no doubt disclose the lapses and omissions incident to so complex an undertaking.
Will the reader feel free to point these out, with any other suggestions which may occur
to him, with a view to future improvement? Such improvement could only be possible
upon the basis of continued and thoroughgoing coéperation. It is hoped, therefore,
that the publication of ‘‘The Birds of California’? may quicken and focalize interest
in the birds of our most favored State, to the end that our knowledge of them may be-
come more accurate and more extended, that our materials for bird portraiture
may be more complete and more satisfying, and that the emphasis of our
interest may be shifted once and for all from slaughter to appreciation. The author,
therefore, invites all those who are seriously minded to realize these ends, to codperate
with him in the development and in the defense of all the interests which are dear to the
science and to the art and to the understanding of BIRDS.
WILLIAM LEON DAWSON.
Santa Barbara, November toth, 1923.
Contents of Volume |
PAGE
ID SIDI G/NTOUORNES ia state 9. ches al aumaoeetocer el ea aad ema se oR ENE nRSRe Guan Cneas Anes Ree een i
IGE GISDE ROE SUBSCRIBER Sips peer fore eas ace Me aciacirs ys aes sac Insert
| PTRUSIRYA (Clay rode sas arsine a cede Fee aca erst eRe ate ATOR SRS ert Se etre ee GEN i ill
PAB DEFOE. CONTENTS Geese ee LAL oaths anal Uae loam SER Ses Si, Xi
LETS ORME WIC sPAC Ta BATES ua. been aera ee Potter aun cad Mier eee eer eee te XV
JED aeA LINING NANO vciig Guorks t,he euchsenatereac a ansliud: some ile ral ets. Hcl Or eave cleo ae XVil
DESCRIPTION OF SPECIES NOs. 1-102
Order Passeres—Perching Birds.
Family Corvide—Crows and Jays.
i Ine IREweM, CORIUS COTO? SHWUGWS. ococccdkascceadaccccocone: I
2 The Western Crow, Corvus brachyrhynchos hesperis...........
3. The Clark Nutcracker, Nucifraga columbiana................ 23
4 The Pinyon Jay, Cyanocephalus cyanocephalus............... 28
5 The Black-billed Magpie, Pica pica hudsonia................
6m wihenVellowebillediMagprewe2ica, nuttin ee 38
7 The California Jays, Aphelocoma californica................. 44
8) he Santa Cruz Jay4 Aphelocoma imsularts, 0... 9s25- 5552 6- 58
9g The Woodhouse Jay, Aphelocoma woodhousei................ 63
1© ne Staller laws, CMnmocwHe HONG Bess ckcoecenncccesvccencos 65
ii “We Gin ass, PAHSOROUS OOSCUTUSs soscscs000s0cecceecsccce 70
Family Icteride—Troupials, American Starlings.
12 ‘Whe Cowwloirls, MWOOHU7US GHGs .cdsne0d50000550a05o6s0000n06 75
13 The Rusty Blackbird, Euphagus carolinus................... 8I
14 The Brewer Blackbirds, Euphagus cyanocephalus............. 83
15 The Arizona Hooded Oriole, Icterus cucullatus nelsont......... 89
76 ‘Whe Scottie OnOle, LGGHDS POPISOWM > s2onc0do5e000eb0b0scnccs 93
i7 Wine Bulloek Onole, MAGUS WOWOG2..2220.500000600n55000054 97
18 Whe Dricolored Redwing, Agelatus tricolor..................- 104
19 The Red-winged Blackbirds, A gelatus pheniceus............. I14
20 The Yellow-headed Blackbird, Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus. 12
21 The Western Meadowlark, Sturnella neglecta................. 129
aD Wine Bolom, DOA vOMMEe OP NEIUOHUS. 20650000500 0cccesecece 136
Family Fringillide—Sparrows.
The California Evening Grosbeak, Hesperiphona vespertina
COVEN OVIVEC CW oe eM arse patay ne ek eh coca eae ea a
sites RediGrossbillsWoxa Gurvinostnd wt oe eee
The California Pine Grosbeak, Pinicola enucleator californica. .
The Sierra Nevada Rosy Finch, Leucosticte tephrocotis dawsoni
The Common Redpoll, Acanthis linaria linaria..............
Wine IPinS Sielatny; SOKOOS PUPUSsccagechocadpacaciaecsacnanece
The Willow Goldfinch, Astragalinus tristis salicamans. .
The Green-backed Goldfinch, Astragalinus psaltria hesperophi:
LES Pao ema RD en eSaroNE Mea ig Ai Minds, eRe ad Ube) aS a
The Cassin Purple Finch, Carpodacus cassini................
The California Purple Finch, Carpodacus purpureus californi-
The California Linnet, Carpodacus mexicanus frontalis.. .
hesEnelishsS parrowny Lassen domesticus... se Ae ene
The Alaska Longspur, Calcarius lapponicus alascensis
The Chestnut-collared Longspur, Calcarius ornatus
The Lark Bunting, Calamospiza melanocorys.................
The Western Lark Sparrow, Chondestes grammacus strigatus.. .
The Vesper Sparrows, Powcetes gramineus...................
The Savanna Sparrows, Passerculus sandwichensis............
The Belding Marsh Sparrow, Passerculus beldingt............
The Large-billed Sparrows, Passerculus rostratus.............
The Western Grasshopper Sparrow, Ammodramus savannarum
DUMMOCULALUS Re ern tae Renee ES pons Sere a eee ee
The Nelson Sparrow, Ammospiza caudacutg nelsont...........
The Rufous-crowned Sparrow, Aimophila ruficeps ruficeps.... .
The Desert Sparrow, Amphispiza bilineata deserticola.........
ijhe,Bell/Sparnowa Amphispiza bella ee ees
The Sage Sparrows, Amphispiza nevadensis..................
dihe;Slate-colored Jiunco; Juncohyemalis, .0.0 iene
Tne Oreexorny |fwincnss, MWe O7PTHIUS sc obocassoovouvepobooce
The Gray-headed Junco, Junco caniceps. ....-............4.
The Western Tree Sparrow, Spizella arborea ochracea.........
The Western Chipping Sparrow, Spizella passerina arizon@... .
The Black-chinned Sparrow, Spizella atrogularis
The Brewer Sparrow, Spizella brewert..............4....--5-
shhetHanris'Sparnow)Zonoachia querula sola e a
The Golden-crowned Sparrow, Zonotrichia coronata...........
Xi
PAGE
The White-crowned Sparrow, Zonotrichia leucophrys.......... 319
The Gambel Sparrow, Zonotrichia gambeli gambeli............ 326
The Nuttall Sparrow, Zonotrichia gambeli nuttalli.......... 331
The White-throated Sparrow, Zonotrichia albicollis........... 335
The Song Sparrows, Melospiza melodia...................... Bae
The Lincoln Sparrows, Melospiza lincolmt................... 359
The Swamp Sparrow, Melospiza georgiana................... 365
dihegkox Sparrows waa sscne! land 70 ca eee ee 365
The Green-tailed Towhee, Oberholseria chlorura.............. 386
ihe Spotted Mowheeswe7piloymaculati swan 390
Mae Aoert Wonnes, Pe DWO @OGB.ncccccoccccdnopoopotosecoe 3907
ihhesBrownwliowhees wei pilolcrissalisae ae eee 401
ihewazule Bunting Rassennaamenay see eee 409
The Beautiful Bunting, Passerina versicolor pulchra........... 412
ithessiiwelGrosbeakswGui7acatceruleap nner 413
The Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Hedymeles ludovicianus......... 417
The Black-headed Grosbeaks, Hedymeles melanocephalus...... 419
Family Tanagride—Tanagers.
shhrerSumimenshanacersweinavear,uor anes ae eee ae 428
Dhe Western Danager, Piranga ludoviciana..:............... 431
Family Mnzotiltide—Wood Warblers.
The Black-and-white Warbler, Myzotilta varia............... 437
The Tennessee Warbler, Vermivora peregrina................ 440
The Orange-crowned Warblers, Vermivora celata............. 442
The Calaveras Warbler, Vermivora ruficapilla gutturalis....... 451
Wine Ine Weamollers, Wa7ewOn@ VYWCHEs o.0062060c06s000050000¢ 455
The Virginia Warbler, Vermivora virginie................... 459
sihemYellowaN\Vanblers DY end no1cateSiiUd = are eee 460
The Magnolia Warbler, Dendroica magnolia................. 466
The Black-throated Blue Warbler, Dendroica cerulescens ceru-
WES COTS 2p eer nr Mayra a eae oR Rene eee Ro ee 468
The Alaska Myrtle Warbler, Dendoica coronata hoovert........ 469
The Audubon Warbler, Dendroica audubont audubont......... 472
The Black-throated Gray Warbler, Dendroica nigrescens...... 479
The Townsend Warbler, Dendroica townsendi................ 484
The Black-throated Green Warbler, Dendroica virens......... 488
The Hermit Warbler, Dendroica occidentalis................: 490
The Chestnut-sided Warbler, Dendroica pensylvanica......... 495
The Palm Warbler, Dendroica palmarum palmarum........... 496
102
XIV
The Tolmie Warbler, Oporornis tolmtet.....................
ihheOven-bird:Sevnusaunocapulus: elena oe ae
The Louisiana Water-thrush, Securus motacilla. ee
The Alaska Water-thrush, Sezurus noveboracensis s notabilis. oe
The Yellow-throats, Geothly pis EFLEN GSAS tera es en ary PAT eer
The Western Chat, Icteria virens longicauda................
The Wilson Warblers, Wilsonia pusilla.............0......
The American Redstart, Setophaga ruticilla.................
Family Hirundinide—Swallows.
The Western Martin, Progne subis hesperta:................
List of Full-page Plates
FACING PAGE
SCOMMST ORIOLES (Color plate) paren ree eee Frontispiece
BInvoNal Ava (olor plates peeasecr pecbe tes ier wu eea eins cae ene ee 28
AN NOIR? IPOS GDUOUINS) Ea tdacces deacce cbcmototouosneonoo cat 24
WMEPLOWABIEED DE VIAGPins (Color plate) seems sae ae: 38
CATTHORN TAM Awval (Color plate) i qeane sa tee en eine ee 44
CALIFORNIA JAY ROBBING A BLACK-HEADED GROSBEAK’S NEST
(Bl oto Saraiva’) aes nears neiees coor slant ee once Reanim? aN 50
NEOTEL OWE MME x CU OL OME) renee ta es ECC ele te een ar nee 58
CADIFORNIEAWBIRD Sw cess(Colorplate) haa eee ee ener 62
BILGSINRONIID) Aw (Color oe). ccoccoasoseaduasacovccecccxdes 68
AVELIGHD OF BREWER BLACKBIRDS (Duotone). ..7...7...--...--- 84
INRIZONA LOODEDIORTOWER (Colorplate) hansen Iori go
BUEEOCmS ORTOLE| (Color plate) waaaae eer ee eee 98
A TRICOLORED REDWING, FEMALE (Photogravure)............... 104
BICOLOREDENEDWiNGH (Colorplate) Roar ae arene 114
YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRD (Color-plate)....................-- 12
Wisin MisAnonmARx (Coloma), ..5scccnccaccvcsocvunous- 128
Nest AND EGGs OF WESTERN MEADOWLARK (Photogravure)...... 132
WESTERN EVENING GROSBEAK (Color-plate)..................... 140
SIERRA Nrvapa Rosy Fincw (Color-plate)...................... 156
KEARSARGE LAKES AND PINNACLES (Photogravure).............. 160
hE eR UCOLUCEIEES: (DUOtOMe is a Mutter eas aI on oe oe oe 166
GREEN-BACKED GOEDHRINGH (Color-plate))).5...25..--25-52-.24- 190
IPAWRENCE.S) GOLDEINGHES: (Color-plate) a9. ee se. oe eae 198
CassINn’s PURPLE FINCH, FEMALE ON Nest (Duotone)............ 204
CASSIN AND CALIFORNIA PURPLE FINCHES (Color-plate).......... 208
CATTEORNTIAGDINNE Ts (Colox- plate) rere ees eae eee 212
\VESTPRINGCARKE SPARROW (Color plate) rece seers eee eee 234
STUPING Mes Cex (DUONG). 22556008 00en000 ds ocegus0ac00c 238
NVARSH SPARROWs GROUP (Colorplate)e ee a eee eee eee oe 248
PORTRAIT OF LARGE-BILLED SPARROW (Duotone)................. 260
WESTERN GRASSHOPPER SPARROW AT NEsT (Duotone)............ 264
RUFOUS-CROWNED SPARROW (Color-plate)......................-. 268
DESERT BLACK-THROATED SPARROW ON NEST (Duotone).......... 274
THE ALABAMA HILLS AND THE HIGH SIERRAS (Duotone).......... 276
SAGHISOPARROWA GROUP (Colon plate) eer eee e200
FACING PAGE
STERRAG UNCOn(Color=plaite)ateratiaiassc eae ayae nee 5 AO
A WARM DAY IN THE YOSEMITE (Duotone))......-..:....4505--5: 302
GAMBEL;S SPARROW, ON LOG (Ductone)), 4... 054450670) oe on oe 330
SONG SPARROW! GROWER (Color-plate)emems nc oe sane ee eee 344
IETINCOENGSISEARR OWa(Colorplate)\pe nee ee ee ee 358
ILINICOLIS CAMERA (IP nono). conn cs soecousboodaensoos 364
AGSELECTION- OF OX SPARROWS) (Color-plate)ian. 9.5. 44,0e se aaee 366
SLATE-COLORED SPARROW AT NEsT (Photogravure)............... 374
ECREEN- TAILED OWwHEEN(Color-plate): an gee. 4 eae oe ee 386
N/JESAND DIE GCOMLOWHEE (Duotone). 5 vee ye meen moar eee 394
ABERTMSMOWHER (Colorplate)) sce Gece i coe ee eke 398
IFAZUEIE BUNTING (Colorplate)ian wei ascent eee 410
\WiESTERN BLUE GROSBEAI (Colorsplate);. ..: oa eee 414
BLACK-HEADED GROSBEAK FEEDING YOUNG (Duotone)........... 418
CooPpER AND WESTERN TANAGERS (Color-plate).................. 430
GROUP OF CALIFORNIA WARBLERS (Color-plate)................. 442
DUSKVvANVAR BEERS (Color plate) miners arte ot eine ene eye ae 446
NEST AND EGGs or Dusky WARBLER (Photogravure)............. 450
AN IRVOTEGCIIO) INSNAGLOING (IPANOHOAENWKE)) se ok oe bine colo eb onc oon boo whet 468
ENO DUWBONCSINVARBEPRa(Color-plate)iaans sam) onions ete ia ee 472
OLANCHA PEAK AND THE COTTONWOOD LAKES (Duotone)......... 474
LOWNSEND!S \WARBUER:(Color-plate)mia. 9404 ae os eee ee 484
ER MITNVARBEERS (Colorplate)h eee ac ee eee 490
Mommy shVVARBEER (Color plate) anu seer amet ee Neem 496
AAS \VATER-RHRUSH (Colorplate) ss. . 250s eee 502
hUPE MEL LOW-nHROAT (Color plate) yess tea ene 506
CompENMWARBEERT(Colorplate) ear wet eset eerie onan 514
XVI
Explanatory
TABLE OF COMPARISONS
Millimeters Inches
Fay Sve SIZ Cp ete ore A Reet ae IE Length up to 127 5.00
WV GIAO? SAO os cioos dtl bee oa > eo ane WD = 152A) 5.00— 6.00
SPAnnOWASIZen aan ands eae Lr 152.4- 190.5 6.00— 7.50
MO wileebsiz CF wea tes erie esa th erence 190.5— 228.6 7.50- 9.00
IRON GWS.osccvcccursodoucscvoce ZAS.6=— BONS g .00-12.00
Little Hawk size, Teal size, Tern size 304.8- 406.4 12.00-16.00
GrowasrZely a aeiene neon ee hee 406.4— 558.5 16.00-22.00
GullitcizeBrantisizene sarees ee 558.5- 762 22 .00-30.00
Eagle size, Goose size.............. 762 -—1066.8 30 .00—42 . 00
(GHANE GUS: Bee Hae ee Ha EE 1066.8 and upward
Measurements are given in millimeters and in inches, the latter
enclosed in parentheses.
XV1l
The Birds of California
No. 1
Raven
A. O. U. No. 486. Corvus corax sinuatus Wagler.
Synonyms.—WESTERN RAVEN. MEXICAN RAVEN. AMERICAN RAVEN.
Description.—Color, uniform lustrous black; plumage, especially on breast,
scapulars, and back, showing steel-blue and violet, or purplish, iridescence; feathers
of the throat long, narrow, pointed, light gray basally; primaries whitening at base.
Bill and feet black; iris brown. Length, two feet or over; female a little smaller;
wing 406-457 (16.00-18.00); tail 233 (9.17); bill 65-80 (2.56-3.15); depth of bill at nostril
25.4 (1.00); tarsus 68 (2.68).
Recognition Marks.—Large size,—more than twice the bulk of a Crow; long,
rounded tail; harsh croaking notes; uniform black coloration.
Nesting.— Nest: a mass of sticks deeply hollowed and lined with wool or hair
plucked from carcasses; placed in cranny of cliff or ledge, or, rarely, in trees. Eggs:
4-7, light bluish green (lichen-green), spotted and marked or blotched (rarely streaked
longitudinally) with olive or dark olive (or with deep olive and citrine drab dilutions)
and, rarely or sparingly, with vinaceous gray. Specimens vary from those nearly
immaculate to those nearly buried under pigment; but they average lighter than
Crows’ in respect to quantity of pigment. Av. of 56 eggs in the collections of the
Museum of Comparative Oology, taken in San Luis Obispo County, 47.5 x 32-3 (1.87 x
1.27); index 67.9. Range 41.7-55.8 (1.64-2.18) x 28.5-34.5 (1.12-1.36); indices 59-76.
Av. of 42 eggs in M. C. O. colls. taken on Santa Cruz Island, 48.5 x 32 (1.91 x 1.26);
index 66. Range 45.5-56.6 (1.79-2.23) x 29.7-34 (1.17-1.34); indices 57-71. Season:
April, one brood.
Range of Corvus corax.—North America, Europe, northern and central Asia.
Range of C. c. sinuatus——The western United States except the Northwest
Coast district, south to Central America.
Range in California.—Resident but wide ranging, hence, of casual occurrence
nearly throughout the State; common or abundant locally. The chief centers of
distribution are the semi-arid interior coast ranges of south-central California, the
larger islands, and the northwestern humid coastal strip. Rare or wanting in the
high Sierras and almost disappearing from the more thickly settled regions.
The Raven
Authorities.—Gambel (Corvus cacalotl), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii.,
1847, p. 203; Heermann, Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. x., pt. vi., 1859, p. 54 (habits);
Linton, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, pp. 68-69 (nest and eggs); Willett, Pac.
Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 68 (status in s. Calif.; crit.); Dawson, Condor, vol.
XViil., 1916, p. 28 (status in Calif.); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, pp.
69-71 (crit.; meas.; nesting habits on coastal islands).
IN THE Raven we behold not alone the ranking member of the
order Passeres, but the most highly developed of birds. Quick-witted,
cunning, and audacious, this fowl of sinister aspect has been invested by
peoples in all ages with a mysterious and semi-sacred character. His
ominous croakings were thought to have prophetic import, while his
preternatural shrewdness has made him, with many, a symbol of divine
knowledge. Primitive man, especially, felt the spell of his somber pres-
ence, and the Raven was as deeply imbedded in the folklore of the mari-
time Grecian tribes and of the hardy Norsemen, as he is today in that of
the Haida Indians of Alaska or the Zuni of New Mexico.
That our own Indians held the Raven in the highest reverence is
evidenced by the following curious fragment, attributed to Father Tor-
quemada.! The place is ‘‘the island of St. Catherine’’ [now Santa Cruz
Island?], and the time about the middle of the Eighteenth Century. The
Spaniards are visiting a heathen temple on the then populous island,
where birds are sacrificed in great numbers to ‘‘some devil.’’
‘Tt happened that when the foldiers came to fee this temple, they
found within the faid circle, two crows, confiderably larger than ordinary,
which at the approach of the Spaniards flew away, but alighted among the
rocks in the neighborhood. The foldiers feeing them of fuch uncommon fize,
fired their guns and killed them. At this, an Indian, who had attended
the Spaniards as a guide, fell into an agony. I was informed that they
believed the devil fpoke to them in thefe crows, and thence held them in
great veneration. Sometime after, one of the foldiers going that way,
faw fome Indian women wafhing fifh on the shore, but fome crows came
up to them, and with their beaks, took the fifh from their hands, whilst
they observed a profound filence, not daring fo much as to look at them
much lefs frighten them away. Nothing therefore could feem more
horrible to the Californians, than that the Spaniards fhould fhoot at
thefe refpectable birds.’’
Although confined now to the wilderness and the waste places,
where his persistent misconduct has exiled him, the Raven is still in a
sense the dominant bird of the Northern Hemisphere. No other bird,
unless it be the regal falcon, successfully disputes his sway; and wherever
1By John Trusler in ‘‘The Habitable World Described,” pub. 1788-1795. Se2 Daggett in “‘The Condor,"’ vol. X
p. 135-137, July, 1918.
2
The Raven
he deigns to dwell he becomes the bete noir, the sable satanic ruler, of the
bird-world. In man alone has the Raven met his match; and the story
of the eternal conflict between man, the supreme of the mammalian line,
and Carava, the dusky apex of the avian succession, if it could be told.
would afford some of the most thrilling chapters in the history of animal
psychology.
Taken in Kern County Photo by the Author
THE RAVEN’S FIEF
The ancient occupation of the earth by this sable master is evidenced
in part by the geographical races, some twenty in number, into which
the virtually uniform and really implastic species, Corvus corax, has
been divided. The differences recognized are chiefly those of size and
of the relative proportions of beak and claw, according as the environ-
ment of the bird has made greater or less demands upon its hardihood
and prowess. A host of the Raven’s lesser brethren, crows and choughs
and rooks, and what not, occupy pretty much the same territory, and
they extend the corvine domain well over the southern hemisphere,
save that no member of the genus is to be found in South America. In
California, as elsewhere, southern examples of the Raven evince a ten-
3}
The Raven
dency to diminution of size, especially in case of the languid birds of
the Santa Barbara Islands.!
In appearance the Raven presents several points of difference from
the Western Crow, with which it is popularly confused. The Raven is
not only larger, but its tail is relatively much longer, and the end of it is
fully rounded. The head, too, is fuller, and the bill proportionately
stouter, with a more rounded culmen. The feathers of the neck are
more loosely arranged, resulting in an impressive shagginess; and there
is a sort of primitive uncouthness about the entire appearance of these
ancient birds, quite in contrast with the unctuous sleekness of the dapper
crows.
Not even the Crow is fastidious in diet, but the Raven indulges
propensities of appetite which have justly marked him an outlaw. Fre-
quenting, as he does, the waste places of the earth, there are two situa-
tions, or ranges, which the Raven especially affects, the rugged portions
of the seacoast and the cattle ranges of the interior (now, alas! largely
transformed into sheep ranges). In the former situation the Raven
subsists upon insects, shell-fish, and cast-up offal, together with those
main staples of spring and summer, the eggs and young of birds. On
the cattle ranges carrion becomes the staple of diet, or, in default of this,
the birds eat insects, frogs, lizards, and to some extent, no doubt, the
smaller mammals. The eggs and young of all ground-nesting and cliff-
haunting birds are diligently sought for. The lake borders and interior
marshes throughout the State suffer from the daily depredation of these
patient marauders. In the pursuit of their nefarious trade the Ravens
will endure almost any punishment of beak or claw, and the only limit
to the mischief wrought would appear to be the corvine capacity.
Much stress has been laid elsewhere upon the destruction by Ravens
of young and sickly stock—calves, lambs and pigs. There is little
complaint of this in California. Whether the birds are better fed or
better bred, | am unable to say. But at that, I have no doubt that in
time of famine the exit of dying animals is often hastened by greedy
Ravens. Whether dead or only dying, the victim may expect the first
determined attack upon the eyes, for these the ghouls regard as their
choicest perquisites. Poultry is sometimes laid under tribute, and iso-
lated chicken ranches may suffer severely through the loss of young
chickens. On the other hand, some Ravens appear to realize that they
are being put upon their good behavior. Bendire records instances where
they have shared commons with the chickens without offering them any
indignity.
Faeries Donation hecion enna thioesaad anilestaraya cocci ile eet se atmucity a JAG tummattectel ecm noeLi ae
out of the window of Caire’s slaughter house on Santa Cruz Island, I have seen some ‘‘sockdollagers,"* which I would
match against principalis himself. (Vide Ridgway, Birds of N. & M. Am. vol. II. p. 265. Also cf. Bishop, ‘‘Condor,”’
XVII., No. 5, Oct. 10, 1915, p. 186.)
4
THE NORTHERN RAVEN
Nn
The Raven
That Ravens display great sagacity in their quest of food is well
known. Once in the Cholame country I lugged my photographic appar-
atus for a mile under a grilling sun to photograph a Killdeer’s nest with
four eggs, which I had located on the previous day. Only a little spilled
yolk and empty shells remained. Then I recalled having seen, on the
occasion of my former visit, a pair of Ravens circling high overhead, at
least a quarter of a mile away. The birds could not possibly have seen
the Killdeer’s eggs at that range; but they heard the distress cries of
the Killdeer, and they knew that there was something doing in their line.
And at that, the crafty Ravens had retired until the coast should be
entirely clear. ‘‘We never forget,’’ is the motto of Pinkerton Raven.
Many observers testify that Ravens will take unopened clams to a con-
siderable height and let them fall upon the rocks in order to smash them
open. Beebe! tells of a Raven in South Africa which, upon discovering
an exposed ostrich nest, will hurry off for a stone, and returning, will
drop it accurately from such a height that a feast of ostrich egg souffle is
immediately assured.
As Bendire testifies,2 ‘‘Ravens are stately and rather sedate-looking
birds. * Ss * On the ground their movements are de-
liberate and dignified; their walk is graceful and seldom varied by hurried
hops or jumps. They appear to still better advantage on the wing,
especially in winter and early spring, when pairs may frequently be seen
playing with each other, performing extraordinary feats in the air, such
as somersaults, trying to fly on their backs, etc. At this season they
seem to enjoy life most and to give vent to their usually not very ex-
uberant spirits by a series of low chuckling and gurgling notes, evidently
indifferent efforts at singing.’’ In my experience these springtime
excesses are oftenest displayed in company. As is well known, the
Raven remains mated for life. The companionship of his mate is quite
sufficient for him, and the Raven usually shuns the society of his fellows.
But in early springtime it is different. The social instinct overcomes both
sexes alike. Besides that, vows must be redeclared, even though accep-
tance be assured. And how could the dutiful wife know that her hubby
was keeping up with the procession unless he proved himself out in the
lists annually, doing stunts with the other fellows? Anyhow, the court
of Venus is set up every year in the neighborhood of some beetling sea-
cliff, or before some huge monument of sandstone in the cattle country.
One who has been privileged to see a Raven circus in session feels as
though he had caught the Olympians at a backyard frolic. Dignity is
thrown to the winds, and sable seigneurs don cap and bells, while prim
\The Bird’’ by William Beebe; p. 158.
2“Life Histories of N. A. Birds,’’ ad. loc.
6
The Raven
ladies do aerial skirt dances amid the debris of metaphorical champagne
bottles.
One such Mardi Gras I witnessed on the 18th of February, 1913.
The rendezvous was the picturesque sandstone knob near Chatsworth.
Ravens to the number of thirty-three joined the merry rout, and I watched
their performances, a breathless Tam o’ Shanter, for as much as two
Taken in Los Angeles County Photo by the Author
THE SPRING RENDEZVOUS NEAR CHATSWORTH
hours. What to the naked eye would have passed as rather meaningless
evolutions, stood revealed under the eight-power binoculars as most
superb aerial tactics. Stalls and nose-dives and Immelmann turns were
interspersed with friendly bouts, mock chases, and figure flights by twos
and threes. Outlandishness was part of the game; and a favorite stunt
consisted of falling slowly with uplifted wings and legs down-stretched to
their ridiculous utmost. Others tumbled as though they had been set
spinning by some heavenly catapult; while others still engaged in spirited
fisticuffs—all in a friendly spirit, apparently—whose intricacies of evolu-
tion are still beyond our returned heroes of the Western Front. A pair
of Red-tailed Hawks, who claimed rightful ownership of this same ledge,
were set upon playfully, or with great show of bravado. Usually two
Ravens would join in the pursuit of a single Redtail. But the hawk took
their attentions indulgently, much as a college president might a bevy
7
The Raven
of hilarious freshmen. And ever and anon came the deep hunger oope
cry, interspersed with many sharp, crow-like caws. One mellow note,
which might have been purely individual, reminded me strikingly of the
callnote of the Sandhill Crane.
Best of all was the game of tag [No, this is not nature-faking; I had
Taken in Los Angeles County Photo by the Author
RAVENS AT PLAY
8-power binoculars]. One bird appeared with a yellow something in
his talons; it might have been cheese, but probably it wasn’t. The
owner did not seem to want to eat it, for he courted pursuit by coming
back ever and again close to the appointed tag-post. Finally, another
bird did succeed in getting ‘‘it’’ away from him, though whether it
was snatched from below or peacefully surrendered, I could not tell.
At any rate, the new possessor was much more skilled than the old one,
and he ventured a succession of acrobatic feats with his bauble. First
he would drop it from his beak, and seize it with his claws the next instant.
After carrying the object about in his claws for a while, he would reach
under and seize it in his beak again—and all this time some other bird
&
The Raven
was making frantic efforts to get it away
from him. Finally, in a scrimmage the ball
was dropped and, though several birds dived
after it, when it became evident that it would
reach the ground first, no further effort was
made to regain it.
After this I witnessed an aerial minuet
by two gifted performers,—a tumbling con-
test, wherein touching hands (wing-tips),
with one bird upside down, was varied with
simultaneous somersaults and graceful up-
right, or stalling, presentations. Altogether
it was a sight for the gods, and it gave one
a new opinion of these erstwhile sullen and
funereal bird-people.
Concerning the notes of the Raven, it is
quite certain that a volume might be written;
for this most intelligent bird succeeds in com-
municating his emotions very fully, at least
to his mate. Yet for all the centuries of
association, no discriminating ear has se-
riously analyzed the Raven’s notes; or if so,
: no record has been left. Nor does the author
ow : ee feel competent to carry the attempt beyond
the most casual sketch. Cvroak is the imi-
tative word used oftenest to characterize
the note of the Raven; but perhaps kraw
would hit it more nearly. The note is,
however, of great individual variety, whether
Photo by the Author uttered singly or in twos or threes, in ac-
Ee cee voi roe EON cordance with the degree of emotion pres-
ent in the bird; thus: krawk, or quawk
quawk, or hawk hawk hawk. On any reckoning, it is a sonorous and
gruesome sound — almost majestic. Any of these notes, by the way,
may be easily recalled to memory (though not, of course reproduced in
volume) by a snoring sound accomplished on an intaken breath. The
notes themselves may, therefore, be properly described as stertorous.
For song, the Raven offers a curious, mellow, hunger -o’ope, accompanied
by an earnest bobbing of the foreparts. This utterance is closely imi-
tated, or exactly parallelled, by the Crow (C. brachyrhynchos); and to my
mind is, in turn, associated with the delar’y cry of the Eastern Bluejay
(Cyanocitta cristata). In other words, it is of familiar rather than merely
9
The Raven
individual significance. Look’ loott, look’ looit
is another phrase I have often heard from birds
under surveillance, but its precise meaning I
never could make out. An alarm note used by a
leader on the rare occasions of assembly is co co
cawk’, and this is promptly caught up and re-
peated by certain others, as though it were an
order given by a colonel. Lastly, there is the
low kut'ty kut'ty, or chut’to chut’to,a sound of deep
disgust, possibly profane, with which a sitting
bird quits her nest, upon discovery.
Of the nesting of the Raven a separate
volume might be written, a romance of the
wilderness. For, as the Raven’s croak is the
authentic voice of the wilderness, so is his nest
its rightful citadel. To be sure, the pressure of
civilization has brought the proud bird to some
sorry passes. An observer in Utah! tells of a
pair of Ravens which nested on a railroad
bridge; and I once found a nest in a deserted
barn. This last, by the way, was of special in-
terest because of a generous juse of beef-ribs
Photo by the Author in the substructure. But cliffs are the Raven’s
REGARDANT proper home, and the further removed these are
from the madding crowd, the better she likes it.
In seeking out the wild canyons and the ‘‘breaks’’ of semi-arid
foothill ranges, the Raven finds himself, willy nilly, in close association
with the Prairie Falcon (Falco mexicanus). This association must be
the result of more than accident, for in a wide country I have found
nests of more than a dozen paired couples, Falcons and Ravens, each
placed within a few rods, or within a quarter of a mile at most, of the
nest of the complementary species, and that although intervening canyons
galore went unoccupied. On the whole, I am inclined to think the
Prairie Falcon the offender. Coveting the more watchful guardianship
of the Raven, the Falcon waits until the Ravens have indicated their
choice of a nesting site for the season, and then heaves to in a neighboring
cranny. (Guarded by the trusty black sentinel, who never allows a
stranger to approach his own nest unwarned, the Falcon despatches
her chuckling mate to distant pastures, and puts her mind at ease as she
settles to her eggs.
The Raven is true to his trust, but he cannot, of course, repel the
1H. C. Johnson, ‘‘Condor,’’ Vol. 1, p. 72.
IO
Tipaee The Raven
invading oologist. Perhaps this is why the unreasoning Falcon some-
times falls upon her neighbor Ravens so unmercifully when her own
nest is threatened. Nowhere else in the bird-world have I seen such
spirited encounters, or any where character shone out so clearly as in
those between Hawk and Raven. One such I recall in particular. Hav-
ing found a Raven’s nest commanded by a facing bank, I planted myself
opposite for photographic purposes. Warned by her mate, the sitting
bird had stolen from her nest unseen, and the pair of them had been
playing hide-and-seek with me ever since. Now and again one of them
would sail over the hilltop, glance downward, and circle back. Or,
again, I would descry them both down the valley, wheeling majestically,
as is their wont, in paired flight, with stiff parallel wings, their bodies
being mantained at a distance of about two feet. Their hearts were in
the nest, no doubt, but their visible anxieties were greatly restrained
by the petulant dashes of a Prairie Falcon who, some six numbers up
the narrow canyon street, was dreading the hour of her own visitation.
As often as the Ravens did venture
near, the Falcon fell upon one or the
other of them with raucous voice
and eyes ablaze. In the rout which
followed, the terror of the sable
birds was evidenced not alone by the
celerity of the pursued one, but by
the distress cries of its anxious mate.
As for the chasee, he (or she) never
had time to ‘‘holler.’’ I tried
desperately to get a snapshot of one
of these encounters, but the scene
of battle shifted so rapidly, or was
so often carried below the horizon
line, that it proved quite baffling.
Once I did press the button at close
range, but that time the onslaught
was so terrible that the birds passed
off the plate in about one ten-
thousandth of a second, and they
swept by within twenty feet of me
Taken in San Luis Obispo County
with a noise like ripping canvas. Faiatin bm the Dotiar
But at that I never saw a Raven A SHORT SCRAMBLE
hurt! For the Raven is not only FRED TRUESDALE ON DUTY
TEL
The Raven
Taken in San Luis Obispo County Photo by the Author
A LONG HAUL
THE NEST APPEARS ABOUT MIDWAY OF THE CRANNY
passed master of the art of flying, but he is an ace of aces for coolness.
At the critical moment, by a dexterous side flip, too subtle for explanation,
he always manages to avoid the fatal stroke. It is the supreme test of
skill, and it is doubtful if any other bird could meet it. Lacking weapons
of defense, such as, for example, the Redtail possesses in his big talons,
it is no joke to meet an angry Falcon in midair. Our hero is playing with
death, and he knows it.
A typical nest of the Raven is placed midway of some rock ledge,
unapproachable save by rope either from above or below. If the recess
in the wall is not shaped just to convenience, it must be filled level with
crisscrossed sticks lodged at haphazard against the cranny’s sides. In
the top a relatively deep hollow is fashioned, and this bowl is lined with
every soft substance available, basally with roots and shredded bark,
interiorly and very bulkily with animal coverings, chiefly those reft from
carcasses—horsehair and cowhair with hide adhering, or wool in great
masses. Strips of cloth gleaned from deserted camps, tattered canvas,
I2
The Raven
frayed rope-ends, anything, no matter how filthy, which promises elas-
ticity, is pressed into service. The result is unsanitary and highly offen-
sive to the nostrils; and as if this were not enough, the sitting bird drenches
the whole recklessly with its own excrement, making of it a veritable
abode of harpies.
Eggs to the number of five or six, rarely seven, are deposited, and
these are singularly frail as to shell structure. Many eggs are dented,
either by rough contact with their mates, or else by the impact of gravel
showered down the face of the nesting cliff. In most full-sized sets there
are one or two eggs notably lighter in color than their mates, and these
are definitely known to be either the first or the last laid, sometimes one
and sometimes the other, showing that the period of maximum pigment
supply is not strictly coincident with the period of egg deposition.
The youngsters when hatched, and for a week or two thereafter,
are exceptionally ugly, being sinfully naked, and of a nondescript greenish
yellow and brownish color, with red mouth-linings. This latter point
is always worth mentioning, for a touch on the nest of a food-laden
parent is always taken as an order, Present mouths! And the display
Taken in San Luis Obispo County Photo by the Author
THE RAVEN’'S BROOD
THE BIRDMAN CRAMMED A WAIF (AND UNGUARANTEED) QUAIL’S EGG INTO THIS EXPECTANT MAW. THE RESULT WAS
HIGHLY SATISFACTORY
5)
The Raven
of red flannel thereupon ensuing is faultless from a technical standpoint.
April is the nesting month for Ravens in coastal California, but
interior breeding ranges come on earlier, in February even. In ranges
subject to considerable persecution, or, let us confess, oological attention,
the Ravens learn to avoid the habitual season. On one famous trip,
April 10-20, 1916, through country much ‘‘shot over,’’ we located
nineteen pairs of Ravens. Of these, five pairs loitered over unfinished
nests, six boasted young in various stages up to the flying point, and from
the lot we gleaned only two perfect sets of fresh eggs. We felt, clearly,
that we were being outwitted by the birds, and especially when one of
them fled scornfully from a tree-top, a white oak, in which she had hidden
Taken in Kern County Photo by the Author
“THE COLUMBARIUM”
FALCONS AND RAVENS HAVE NESTED IN THESE CRANNIES FOR AGES
a nestful of babies. In an experience covering some scores of nests,
this was the only example of a tree-nesting Raven. I am told, however,
that they do nest in trees in Mendocino and Del Norte Counties, where
they are also exceptionally common.
14
The Raven
The Raven’s reputed wit failed him, however, in another instance
recorded during the same season of 1916. We were working in the
juniper country west of the Carriso plains, and we noticed a pair of birds
engaged about a low cliff at the head of a small spur canyon. I watched
them through binoculars as they brought several sticks to a certain
point on the ledge. Investigation disclosed an astonishing condition of
affairs. The daffy birds had been trying to lodge the foundations of a
nest in a small sloping crevice where any sort of lodgment was practically
impossible. As a result, every stick had fallen, in its turn, until a pile six
feet in diameter and not less than two feet high lay at the bottom of the
cliff—two hundred pounds weight of wood, and not a mud-sill to the good
yet! And about forty feet along under the same cliff was another stick
pile, evidently the accumulation of the preceding season. These birds
were obsessed with the determination to occupy this cliff whether or no,
and had gone childless for two seasons! Manifestly a case for the alienist.
Of the Raven as a captive a separate volume might be written.
When we shall have recovered somewhat from our present excessive
devotion to protectionism, we may avail ourselves again of the unending
interest which attaches to the study of the psychology of birds at close
range. No fitter subject could be found than the Raven. Cunning,
agile, adroit, and intensely mischievous, a Raven brought up by hand is,
nevertheless, capable of a considerable affection. He is reputed a good
talker, albeit with speech of a certain muffled quality, due no doubt to
the “depth” of his voice. Having, like the Crow and the Magpie, an
incurable fondness for bright articles, as well as a destructive disposition,
he cannot be allowed to run at large; nor, indeed, to be caged with smaller
birds. No one, therefore, ought to undertake the task of rearing a Raven
who is not prepared to give it abundant cage room, and to profit fully by
the opportunity for psychological study thereby afforded. For the rest,
the Raven is likely to outlive its captor; for it is the very symbol of
longevity, having attained in several instances, according to credible
testimony, a full century. Think of it! A centenarian Mephistopheles
with feathers still unsinged!
The Western Crow
No. 2
Western Crow
A. O. U. No. 488b. Corvus brachyrhynchos hesperis Ridgway.
Synonyms.—CALiFrorniA Crow. ComMMON Crow. AMERICAN CROW.
Description.—Entire plumage glossy black, for the most part with greenish
blue, steel-blue, and violaceous reflections; feathers of the neck normal, rounded. Bill
and feet black, iris brown. Length 406.4-508 (16.00-20.00); wing 302 (12.00); tail
170 (6.70); bill 46.5 (1.83); depth at nostril 16.5 (.65). Female averages smaller than
male.
Recognition Marks.—'‘‘Crow-size’—much smaller than Raven; tail shorter,
and only slightly rounded.
Nesting.— Nest: a neat hemisphere of sticks and twigs, carefully lined with
soft bark strips, or, rarely, roots and grasses; placed at any height in trees, often well
concealed. Eggs, 4 or 5, rarely 6; ovate or elongate ovate; pale bluish green (lichen
green, glaucous green, or even dark greenish glaucous), spotted and marked with olive
and related shades, sometimes so heavily as to appear almost uniform olive. Av.
size (without distinction from typicus) 41.4 x 29.1 (1.63 x 1.15); index 70.5. Season:
April 20-May 20; one brood.
Range of Corvus brachyrhynchos—TYemperate North America.
Range of C. 0. hesperis—Chiefly western United States from Rocky Mountains
to Pacific Coast, save shores of northwestern Washington; north into the interior of
British Columbia, south to southern California, Arizona, and western Texas.
Range in California.—Resident; of very local distribution at the lower levels
nearly throughout the State. Not found in the deserts nor in the higher ranges; of
rare occurrence east of the Sierran divide (Davis Creek, Modoc Co., June 10, 1912;
Eagleville, June 30, 1912; Mono Lake, June 3, 1919). Favors riparian association,
cultivated valleys, and the live oak association of the coastal districts.
Authorities—Gambel (Corvus ossifragus and C. americanus), Journ. Acad.
Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol. i., 1847, p. 47; Henshaw, Rept. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1876,
p. 251; 1879, pp. 302-306 (crit.; habits); Rzdgway, Manual N. Amer. Birds, 1887, p. 362
(description of hesperis); Kalmbach, Bull. U. S. Dept. Agric., no. 621, 1918, 92 pp.,
3 pls. (life history and food).
SINCE coming to California I cannot rid myself of the impression
that there is something childish about the Crow—scarcely ‘ ‘child-like
and bland’’ either, for he is astute enough, and wary to a degree. It
cannot be merely because he is noisy, or that he loves crowds, that he
gives the impression of frivolity, or irresponsibility. Doubtless it is
rather because of constant comparison with his somber kinsman, the
Raven, self-contained black angel and villain of nature’s plot. We have
oftener heard in our wanderings the doomful croak of the larger Corvus,
so when we come plump upona roistering company of Crows, the lighter
quality of their voices strikes us oddly, and we imagine ourselves with a
company of school-children at recess time.
16
The Western Crow
The Crow in California is no such constant factor of bird life as he
is in the East. He is, instead, very local and sharply restricted in his
distribution, so that to a traveller the appearance of Crows is rather
a novelty, something to be jotted down in the field-book; and Crow
country can scarcely comprise more than a twentieth part of the total
area of the State. Confined for the most part to river bottoms or to rich
Taken in Santa Barbara County . Photo by the Author
A FLIGHT OF WESTERN CROWS
alluvial valleys, separated by wide stretches of crowless country, the
behavior of these birds is so strongly influenced by local conditions, that
generalizations as to nesting habits, absence of fear, etc., are futile.
In some sections the birds mock at you from the wayside fence-posts.
Elsewhere it may be difficult to obtain specimens. In one valley the
Crows will nest in sycamores, in another in live oak trees, in another in
the depths of the fir forest.
17,
The Western Crow
These dusky birds are notorious mischief-makers, no doubt of that.
But they are not so black, perhaps, as they have been painted. More
than any other bird, save the Raven, the Crow has successfully matched
his wits against those of man, and his frequent easy victories and conse-
quent boastings are responsible in large measure for the unsavory repu-
tation in which he is held. It is a familiar adage in ebony circles that the
proper study of Crow-kind is man; and so well has he pursued this study
that he may fairly be said to hold his own in spite of fierce and ingenious
persecution. He rejoices in the name of outlaw, and ages of ill-treatment
have only served to sharpen his wits and intensify his cunning.
That the warfare waged against him is largely unnecessary, and
partly unjust, has been pretty clearly proven of late by scientists who have
investigated the Crow’s food habits. It is true that he destroys large
numbers of eggs and nestlings, and, if allowed to, that he will occasionally
invade the poultry yard—and for such conduct there can be no apology.
It is true, also, that some damage is inflicted upon corn in the roasting-ear
stage, and that corn left out through the winter constitutes a staple article
of Crow diet. But it is estimated that birds and eggs form only about
one-half of one per cent of their total diet; and in the case of grain, certain-
ly they perform conspicuous services in raising the crop. Besides the
articles of food mentioned, great quantities of crickets, beetles, grass-
hoppers, caterpillars, cut-worms, and spiders, are consumed. Frogs,
lizards, mice, and snakes also appear occasionally upon the bill of fare.
On the whole, therefore, the Crow is not an economic Gorgon, and his
destruction need not largely concern the farmer, although it is always
well to teach the bird a proper reverence.
The psychology of the Crow is worthy of a separate treatise. All
birds have a certain faculty of direct perception, which we are pleased to
call instinct; but the Crow, at least, comes delightfully near to reasoning.
It is on account of his phenomenal brightness that a Crow is among the
most interesting of pets. If taken from the nest and well treated, a
young Crow can be given such a large measure of freedom as fully to
justify the experiment from a humanitarian standpoint. Of course the
sure end of such a pet is death by an ignorant neighbor’s gun, but the
dear departed is embalmed in memory to such a degree that all Crows
are thereafter regarded as upon a higher plane.
Everyone knows that Crows talk. Their cry is usually represented
by a single syllable, caw, but it is capable of many and important modifi-
cations. For instance, keraw, keraw, comes from some irritated and
apprehensive female, who is trying to smuggle a stick into the grove;
kawk-kawk-kawk proclaims sudden danger, and puts the flock into instant
commotion; while caw-aw, caw-aw, caw-aw, reassures them. Once, in win-
18
The Western Crow
ter when the bird-man, for sport, was mystifying the local bird population
by reproducing the notes of the Screech Owl, a company of Crows settled
in the tops of neigh-
boring trees, and
earnestly discussed
the probable nature
of the object half
concealed under a
camera cloth.
Finally, they gave
it up and withdrew
—as I supposed.
Taken in Oregon Photo by Bohlman and Finley
WESTERN CROW AT NEST
It seems that one old fellow was not satisfied, for as I ventured to shift
ever so little from my strained position, he set up a derisive Ca-a-a-aw
from a branch over my head, as who should say, ‘‘Aw, ye can’t fool me.
Y’re just a m-a-an,”’ and flapped away in disgust.
Space fails in which to describe the elaborate structure of Crow
society; to tell of the military and pedagogical systems which they en-
force; of the courts of justice and penal institutions which they maintain;
of the vigilantes who visit vengeance upon evil-minded owls and other
offenders; or even of the games which they play,— tag, hide-and-seek,
blind-man’s-buff and pull-away. These things are sufficiently attested
by competent observers: we may only spare a word for that most serious
business of life, nesting.
Wg)
The Western Crow
A typical Crow’s nest is a very substantial affair, as our illustration
shows. Upon a basis of coarse sticks, a mat of dried leaves, grasses, bark-
strips, and dirt, or mud, is impressed. The deep rounded bowl thus
formed is carefully lined with the inner bark of the willow, or with twine,
horse-hair, cow-hair, rabbit-fur, wool, or any other soft substance avail-
able. When completed, the nesting hollow is seven or eight inches across
and three or four deep. The expression ‘‘Crow’s nest,’’ as used to
indicate disarray, really arises from the consideration of o/d nests. Since
the birds resort to the same locality year after year, but never use an
old nest, the neighboring structures of successive years come to represent
every stage of dilapidation.
North or South, April is the nesting month for all proper Crows.
March eggs are of record, and, of course, a few laggards show up in May.
Such matters as time and place appear to be pretty rigidly ordained by
the clan or community council, for Crows are loosely gregarious, even in
their nesting. While one rarely sees occupied nests in adjoining trees,
Taken in Riverside County Photo by Wright M. Pierce
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN CROW
20
The Western Crow
to find a dozen or a score in a certain section of woodland, is the rule
rather than the exception. Caution reigns here as at other times, and
nest-building operations are suspended for the nonce if the Crows suspect
the presence of a hated human. There is a way, however, by which an
adroit observer may learn the Corvine secret, no matter how carefully
hidden the domicile may be. In the honeymoon days attendant upon
deposition, the amorous crow will call her mate to the nest-side from
time to time by giving the hunger cry, anh annh,—identical in quality,
apparently, with the sounds which will issue clamorously from the nest
five or six weeks later. It is the coaxing, irresistible call of the eternal
feminine, and the black swain will yield to its solicitations, even though
it be against his better judgment. Alas, how many a poor wight has
been trapped through his affections! The secret is out, Mr. Crow!
Fresh eggs may, therefore, be found by the second or third week in
April. Incubation lasts from fourteen to eighteen days; and the young,
commonly four or five in number, are born naked and blind. It is when
the Crow children are hatched that Nature begins to groan. It is then
that birds’ eggs are quoted by the crate, and beetles by the hecatomb
are sacrificed daily in a vain effort to satisfy
the Gargantuan appetites of these young
ebons. I once had the misfortune to pitch
camp in a grove of willows which contained a
nestful of Crows. The old birds never forgave
me, but upbraided me in bitter language from %
early morn till dewy eve. The young-
sters also suffered somewhat, I fear, for as
often as a parent bird approached, cawing
in a curiously muffled voice, choked with
food, and detected me outside the tent, it
HOMEWARD BOUND
Photo by the Author
The Western Crow
swallowed its burden without compunction, in order that it might the
more forcibly berate me.
If the male happened to discover my out-of-doorsness in the absence
of his mate, he would rush at her when she hove in sight, in an officious,
blustering way, and shout, ‘‘Look out there! Keep away! The Rhino
is on the rampage again!’’
I learned, also, to recognize the appearance of hawks in the offing.
At the first sign the Crow, presumably the male, begins to roll out ob-
jurgatory gutturals as he hurries forward to meet the intruder. His
utterances, freely translated, run somewhat as follows: ‘‘That blank,
blank, Swainson Hawk! | thought I told him to keep away from here.
Arrah, there, you slab-sided son of an owl! What are ye doing here?
Git out o’ this! (Biff! Biff!) Git, I tell ye! (Biff!) If ever I set eyes
on ye again, I'll feed ye to the coyotes. Git, now!’’ And all this without
the slightest probability that the poor hawk would molest the hideous
young pickaninnies if he did discover them. For when was a self-respect-
ing hawk so lost to decency as to be willing to ‘‘eat crow?’’
Crows, always sociable, become strictly gregarious after the young
families are fully grown and ready to merge themselves into the clan.
Again, under the rigors of winter, vast companies assemble into what are
known as roosts,—nightly, communal associations, which sometimes
number thousands. This institution, however, is very much more
loosely observed in the West, and has not, apparently, been made the
subject of special study. I well remember a trick which two mischievous
bird-men played on a Crow roost in Ohio. The birds were using a certain
stretch of ‘‘second growth’’ that season, and so were sleeping at a height
of only fifteen or twenty feet. We stole out before a hint of dawn, and
succeeded in getting to the very centre of the roost unsuspected. So
when Brother Jones turned loose a good imitation of a Hoot Owl’s cry,
there was something doing. In a silence which could be felt every bird
made a desperate leap into midair. And then ensued such a pandemonium
of rage as I never was privileged to witness before. The air crashed with
sound. Corvine expletives mingled with direst threats; and I suppose
if there had been a veritable Horned Owl aloft, he would have been minced
inatrice. As it was, our laughter bore witness to the Crows’ discomfiture,
though their disillusionment was slow, and they moved off grumbling
and wondering.
The Clark Nutcracker
No. 3
Clark’s Nutcracker
A. O. U. No. 491. Nucifraga columbiana (Wilson).
Synonyms.—Crark’s Crow. PINE Crow. Gray Crow. ‘‘CAMP ROBBER”
(Through confusion with the Gray Jay, Perisoreus sp.). ‘‘Clarke’s’’ Crow, etc., (name
misspelled, as conclusively demonstrated by Coues).
Description.—Adult in fresh plumage (fall and winter): General body color
light neutral gray, changing to white on face all around, including circumocular area;
wings glossy black, the secondaries broadly tipped with white; under tail-coverts and
four outermost pairs of rectrices white, the fifth pair with outer web chiefly white and
the inner web chiefly black, the remaining (central) pair of rectrices and the upper
tail-coverts black; axillars and wing linings deep mouse gray to sooty black, often
varied by white (in younger specimens?). Bill and feet black; iris brown. Adults in
worn plumage (spring and summer): The gray element changing to brownish, light
drab, or even drab (the breast often stained irregularly with olive-brown through
AS
The Clark Nutcracker
contact with pitch); the white of face soiled or brown-stained. Young birds are like
adults in worn plumage. Length 279.4-330.2 (11.00-13.00); wing 192 (7.00-8.00); tail
115 (4.50); bill 40.7 (1.60); tarsus 36.8 (1.45). Female smaller than male.
Recognition Marks.—Kingfisher size; gray plumage with abruptly contrasting
black-and-white of wings and tail; harsh ‘“‘char-r’’ note.
Nesting.— Nest: a thick-walled cup composed chiefly of fine barkstrips, externally
of interlaced sticks; lining of finest shredded bark; placed at moderate heights in
pinyon, juniper, or pine. Eggs: 2 or 3, or, rarely, 4. ‘‘Ground color light lichen-green.
Light mottlings or streakings of pale drab-gray and minute spottings of Saccardo’s
olive distributed over the entire surface, with a slight confluence at the larger end
whence a faintly defined banded effect is noticeable’ (Bradbury). Av. of 15 eggs:
33-3 X 23.1 (1.31 x .gI); index 70. Season: March at the lower breeding levels; prob-
ably later with increase of elevation; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America in coniferous timber, from Arizona
and New Mexico to Alaska; casual east of the Rockies.
Range in California.—Common resident in the higher timbered mountain
ranges practically throughout the State, occurring from high Transition up to the
summits. Also of sporadic occurrence at the lower levels in fall and winter—Point
Reyes, Nov. 19, 1900, (J. Mailliard); Point Pinos (W. K. Fisher); Carmel (J. L. Schles-
inger); Santa Barbara (various occurrences, specimen taken Oct. 15, 1919); Colorado
Desert near Indio (C. O. Esterly); at sea near Los Angeles (G. F. Ferris).
Authorities.—Newberry (Picicorvus columbianus), Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv.,
vol. vi., pt. iv., 1857, p. 83; Feiner, Ann. Rept. Smithsonian Inst. for 1864 (1865), p.
427 (range; habits); Henshaw, Rept. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1876, p. 252 (habits); Merriam,
C. H., North Amer. Fauna, no. 16, 1899, pp. 119-121, 2 figs. (habits; food); AM/ailliard,
J., Condor, vol. xxii., 1920, pp. 160-161 (at Carmel; habits).
NO BIRD-LOVER can forget his first encounter with this singular
Old-Bird-of-the-Mountains. Ten to one the bird brought the man up
standing by a stentorian char’r’r, char’r’r, char'r'r, which led him to search
wildly in his memory whether Rocs are credited with voices. If the bird was
particularly concerned at the man’s intrusion, he presently revealed
himself sitting rather stolidly on a high pine branch, repeating that harsh
and deafening cry. The grating voice is decidedly unpleasant at close
quarters, and it is quite out of keeping with the unquestioned sobriety
of its grizzled owner. A company of Nutcrackers in the distance finds
frequent occasion for outcry, and the din is only bearable as it is softened
and modified by the re-echoing walls of some pine-clad gulch, or else
dissipated by the winds which sweep over the listening glaciers.
But the Nutcracker’s repertory is not exhausted by a single cry.
For years I was puzzled by sporadic eruptions of a strange, feline cry,
meack, or mearrk, a piercing and rather frightful sound. The Clark
Nutcracker proved at last to be responsible, and he was only at play!
The very next morning after the mountain lion scare, we had the versatile
24
The Clark Nutcracker
birds as musicians. Two of them got out their little toy trumpets,
pitched about a fifth apart, and proceeded to give us the Sierran reveille:
hee hee hee, hee hee, hee, hee, hee, hee, hee.
hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo
The notes were really quite musical, and the comparison established of
children’s tin trumpets was irresistible. The effect produced by the
Taken in the Tehtpite Valley Photo by the Author
A HARD NUT TO CRACK
two birds sounding in different keys was both pleasant and amusing—
Merry Christmas in July! The concert lasted two or three minutes, and
its conclusion was announced when one of the youngsters shouted Charr
(as who should say, Rats!), and burst out of the tree.
Clark’s Nutcracker is the presiding genius of all our higher mountain
bodies, including in his regular haunts the pinyon-forested desert ranges,
as well as the rugged fastnesses of the central Cordilleras. At the close
of the breeding season, and especially in the late summer, the birds have
a wider vertical range, pressing the limits of evergreen timber at the
lower levels, as well as paying occasional visits to the topmost peaks.
There is no migration in the proper sense, but occasional individuals
turn up now and then in most unexpected places. For example, a stray
bird appeared at Miramar, a fashionable seaside resort near Santa Bar-
bara, on the 28th of January, 1917. And again in the fall of 1919 there
25
The Clark Nutcracker
was a visitation of Nutcrackers which involved most of the coastal
counties from Monterey to the Colorado desert. A specimen now in
the M. C. O. collection was taken in Montecito; and another bird spent
fully three weeks in Alameda Park, in the heart of Santa Barbara.
This black-and-white-and-gray ‘‘Crow”’ curiously combines the char-
acteristics of Woodpecker and Jay as well. Like the Lewis Woodpecker,
he sometimes hawks at passing insects, eats berries from bushes, or
alights on the ground to glean grubs, grasshoppers, and black crickets.
In the mountains it shares with the Jays of the Perisoreus group the
names “‘meat-bird’’ and ‘‘camp-robber,’’ for nothing that is edible comes
amiss to this bird, and instances are on record of its having invaded not
only the open-air kitchen, but the tent, as well, in search of ‘‘supplies’’.
Like all other members of the Corvidae, Clark’s Crow bears a bad reputa-
tion among the lesser songsters. One that had been caught sneaking
about in the pine-trees just below our Cottonwood Lakes camp, was
fercely set upon by a pair of Western Wood Pewees. The pursuers
gave the rascal no rest, but drove the unhappy crow mercilessly from
tree to tree, and with a persistence which left no room for doubt that
they had real wrongs to avenge. At Mammoth we found them perse-
cuting the Leucostictes, and knew of at least one nest being robbed by
them.
Of its more staple food a more northern observer says: ‘‘Clark’s
Crows have, like the Crossbills, to get out the seeds from underneath the
scaly coverings constituting the outward side of the fir cone. Nature
has not given them crossed mandibles to lever open the scales, but in-
stead, feet and claws, that serve the purpose of hands, and a powerful
bill like a small crowbar. To use the crowbar to advantage the cone
needs steadying, or it would snap at the stem and fall; to accomplish
this one foot clasps it, and the powerful claws hold it firmly, whilst the
other foot encircling the branch, supports the bird, either back downward,
head downward, on its side, or upright like a woodpecker, the long clasping
claws being equal to any emergency; the cone thus fixed and a firm hold
maintained on the branch, the seeds are gouged out from under the scales.”’
These Nutcrackers are among the earliest and most hardy of nesters.
They are practically independent of climate, but are found during the
nesting months—March, or even late in February, and early April—only
where there is a local abundance of pine (or fir) seeds. They are artfully
silent at this season, and the impression prevails that they have ‘‘gone
to the mountains’’; or, if in the mountains already, the presence of a
dozen feet of snow serves to allay the oologist’s suspicions.
The nest is a very substantial affair of twigs and bark-strips, heavily
lined, as befits a cold season, and placed at any height in a pine or fir
26
The Clark Nutcracker
tree, without noticeable attempt at concealment. The birds take turns
incubating and—again because of the cold season—are very close sitters.
Three eggs are usually laid, of about the size and shape of Magpies’ eggs
but much more lightly colored. Incubation, Bendire thinks, lasts sixteen
or seventeen days, and the young are fed chiefly on hulled pine seeds,
at the first, presumably regurgitated.
If the Corvine affinities of this bird were nowhere else betrayed, they
might be known from the hunger cries of the young. The importunate
anh, anh, anh of the expectant bantling, and the subsequent gullu, gullu,
gullu of median deglutition (and boundless satisfaction) will always
serve to bind the Crow, Magpie, and Nutcracker together in one compact
group. When the youngsters are ‘‘ready for college,’’ the reserve of
early spring is set aside and the hillsides are made to resound with much
practice of that uncanny yell before mentioned. Family groups are
gradually obliterated and, along in June, the birds of the foothills begin
to deploy, or else to retire irregularly to the higher ranges, there to rest
up after the exhausting labors of the season, or else to revel in midsummer
gaiety with sundry scores of their fellows.
Taken in Inyo Counly Photce by the Author
MOUNT LANGLEY FROM THE COTTONWOOD LAKES
A TYPICAL HAUNT OF THE CLARK NUTCRACKER
The Pinyon Jay
Early on a July morning, having set ourselves the task of climbing
Mt. Langley, we noted on the aneroid the attainment of the thirteen
thousand foot level, and were gazing wistfully up at the rugged peak
looming a thousand feet higher, when, suddenly, like a wisp of snow-
flakes caught up by the wind, or like a sudden bursting rocket, a flock of
birds appeared right over the summit. Their breasts shone resplendent
in the morning sun, and under this bright disguise it took some moments
with the binoculars to make them out as Clark Crows. How jolly!
these gifted creatures have held a sunrise prayer (?) meeting ‘‘already
yet so soon,’’ while we poor mortals must plod on and on under a blister-
ing sun!
“The heights by great men won and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight:
But they while their companions slept
Were toiling upward in the night”’
evidently does not apply to the birds.
No. 4
Pinyon Jay
A. O. U. No. 492. Cyanocephalus cyanocephalus (Wied).
Synonyms.—BLvueE Crow. MaAxIMILiANn’s JAy. PINE Jay.
Description.—Adults: Plumage dull grayish blue (tyrian blue where pure)
mingled with bluish gray and brownish gray, deepening on crown and nape (dusky
slate-blue), brightening on cheeks (olympic blue), paling below posteriorly to neutral
gray, streaked with dull white on chin, throat, and chest, centrally. Bill and feet
black; iris brown. Adult female: Like male, but somewhat duller, with increase of gray.
Young birds are still duller, gray rather than blue, except on wings and tail. Length
of adult male: 279.4-304.8 (11.00-12.00); wing 154 (6.00); tail 114 (4.50); bill 36 (1.42);
tarsus 38 (1.50). Adult female: wing 144.5 (5.68); tail 104 (39.5); bill 31.5 (1.24),
tarsus 35.5 (1.40).
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; blue color; crow-like aspect.
Nesting.— Nest: composed of twigs, heavily lined with finely shredded bark
strips; placed at moderate height in pinyon or juniper. Eggs: 4 or 5; pale greenish
white, speckled quite uniformly with olive-brown. Av. of 25 eggs in the U. S. National
Museum 30.2 x 22.1 (1.19 x .87); index 73. Av. of 20 eggs from Santa Fe in the
M. C. O: 27.3 x 21.9 (1.075 x .846); index 78. Season: April-May 10; one brood.
General Range.—Pinyon and juniper woods of western United States; north
to southern British Columbia (interior), Idaho, etc.; south to northern Lower California,
Arizona, New Mexico, and western Texas; casually along the eastern slopes of the
Rocky Mountains.
28
pad: on a July morning, javing s set ourselves: dhe pei ee pres te
Mt. Langley, we noted on the aneroid the attainment of the thirteen
_ thousand foot level. and were gazing wistiully up at the rugged peal
~ looming a thousand feet higher, when, suddenly, like a wisp of snow+—
flakes caught up by the wind, or like a sudden bursting rocket, a flock of
birds appeared right over the summit. Their breasts shone resplendent
in the morning sun, and under this bright disguise it took some moments
with the binoculars to make them out as Clark Crows. How jolly!
these gifted creatures have held a sunrise prayer (7) meeting ‘already
yet so anon, '' while we poor mortals must plod on and on under a blister-
ing sun!
“The heights by great men won and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight:
But they while their companions slept
Were toiling upward in the night”’
evidently does not apply to the birds.
Nie. 4
Aeon y% life s ae
AO, © WoFaem.4 watercolor pas ing ty Main lan Bes
Synonyms.—-Buos Caow. Maximian's Jay. Pm Jay.
Description.—Adults: Plumage dull grayish blue (tyrian tiue where pure)
mingled with bluish gray and brownish gray, deepening on crown and nape (dusky
slate-blue), brightening on cheeks (olympic blue), paling below posteriorly to neutral
gray, streaked with dull white on chin, throat, and chest, centrally. Bill and feet
black; iris brown. Aduif female: Like male, but somewhat duller, with increase of gray.
Young birds are still duller, gray rather than blue, except on wings and tail. Length
of adule male: 279.4-304.8 (11.00-12.00); wing 154 (6,00); tail 124 (4.50); bill 36 (1.42);+
tarsus 38 (1.50). Adult female: wing 144.5 (§.63); tail 104 (39.5); bill 37.5. (x24),
tarsus 35.5. (1.40), : f
Recognition Marks. Robin size; tue color: crows asp
Nesting.--- Nest: chanpeaey at ewige, heasdiy Haw
stripe; placed at niderate hyight ia pentane) + Dep eAG
hive, speckied quite uniformly with der brawn we ad
Wire aboe 8 22k Fp ek BG tote ce ed nae
BEE 87 A GAG! aia Me ades GR Simi
(enersd Range Sisteu: svat Sanitary gecade oo eee: Badued: Seyies: ean
ta sonthern Bein’ Colsnaiés Guiering®, Mako, etc. paouth to northern Lower California,
Aviohs, New Manis: and wowana Tasies Gasuaty along the eastern tail ot Sg!
Rocky Ms omaneaag,
te
we
The Pinyon Jay
Range in California.—‘‘Common resident locally of arid Upper Sonoran and
Transition, chiefly along the eastern base of the Sierra Nevada and ranges of southern
California, and on the desert ranges of the Inyo district. Its permanent habitat is
closely coincident with the presence of the pinyon (Pinus monophylla) and juniper
(Juniperus occidentalis)’’ (Grinnell). Also indulges in extraordinary wanderings in
fall and winter. Has occurred thus at Pasadena (Gaylord), Santa Barbara (Dawson),
Pacific Grove (J. Mailliard), Berkeley (J. Grinnell), and even Eureka (Grinnell).
Authorities.—Feilner (Gymnokitta cyanocephala), Ann. Rep. Smithsonian
Inst. for 1864 (1865), p. 427 (habits); Fisher, A. K., N. Am. Fauna, no. 7, 1893,
Pp- 72-73 (range; food); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 424-426,
pl. iii., (figs. 24, 25) (habits, nest and eggs); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p.
69 (status in s. Calif.); van Rossem and Pierce, Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, p. 164.
THE RANGE of the Pinyon Jay is normally coextensive with that
of the pinyon (Pinus monophylla) plus that of the juniper (Juniperus
occidentalis); hence, it is chiefly confined in California to the eastern
slopes of the Sierras and the desert ranges of Riverside, San Bernardino
and Inyo counties. The bird is, however, a great wanderer, and sporadic
occurrences have been recorded from several of the coastal counties,
stretching from San Diego clear to Humboldt. The Santa Barbara
record was made on October 9th, 1914, when a flock of about two hundred
birds flew westward over town at a height of about half a mile. They
suggested Crows both in voice and appearance; but the ‘“‘caws’’ were
shorter, sharper, and thinner, and the wing-action more rapid.
Grinnell encountered this species commonly at several points in the
San Bernardino Mountains,! and noted its relative indifference to the
human presence. The birds fed a good deal upon the ground, as well
as in the pine trees; and on their foraging expeditions ventured far out
into the sage flats. “‘A large scattering flock may be absolutely silent
for minutes at a time, and then again indulge in a concert of nasal, mew-
ing calls, which can be heard a long ways. In their method of spreading
out over a sage flat, and working zigzag over the ground for insects, they
closely resemble Brewer Blackbirds, both in flight and general behavior.”’
Grinnell and Swarth also noted their ground-feeding habit in the San
Jacinto Mountains;? and Fisher found in a bird’s crop sprouted pine
seeds, which he judged must have been gleaned from the ground. Cap-
tain Bendire had perhaps the widest acquaintance with this erratic,
desert-haunting species, and I record his testimony, even though it
both duplicates and contradicts portions of the foregoing:
“Their call notes are quite variable; some of them are almost as
harsh as the ‘chaar’ of the Clarke’s Nutcracker, others partake much of
the gabble of the Magpie, and still others resemble more those of the
Jays. A shrill, querulous ‘peeh, peeh,’ or ‘whee, whee,’ is their common
1"The Biota of the San Bernardino Mountains,”’ 1908, pp. 85, 86. 2
2 Birds and Mammals of San Jacinto,”’ 1913, p. 263. 9
The Pinyon Jay
call note. While feeding on the ground they keep up a constant chat-
tering, which can be heard for quite a distance, and in this way often
betray their whereabouts.
‘Tt is an eminently sociable species at all times, even during the breed-
ing season, and is usually seen in large compact flocks, moving about
from place to place in search of feeding grounds, being on the whole
rather restless and erratic in its movements; you may meet with thou-
sands in a place to-day and perhaps to-morrow you will fail to see a single
one. It is rarely met with at altitudes of over 9,000 feet in summer,
and scarcely ever in the higher coniferous forests; its favorite haunts are
the pinyon-covered foothills of the minor mountain regions, the sweet
and very palatable seeds of these trees furnishing its favorite food during
a considerable portion of the year. In summer they feed largely on
insects of all kinds, especially grasshoppers, and are quite expert in
catching these on the wing; cedar and juniper berries, small seeds of
various kinds, and different species of wild berries also enter largely into
their bill of fare. A great deal of time is spent on the ground where they
move along in compact bodies while feeding, much in the manner of
Blackbirds, the rearmost birds rising from time to time, flying over the
flock and alighting again in front of the main body; they are rather shy
and alert while engaged in feeding. I followed a flock numbering several
thousands which was feeding in the open pine forest bordering the Kla-
math Valley, Oregon, for more than half a mile, trying to get a shot at
some of them, but in this I was unsuccessful. They would not allow me
to get within range, and finally they became alarmed, took wing, and
flew out of sight down the valley.”’
Although breeding within our borders to the number of thousands,
perhaps tens of thousands, it is a matter of amused record (Oct. 1918)
that no occupied nest of the Pinyon Jay has ever been reported for
California. Why sigh for Africa or Alaska with such unexploited fields
at home! An observer in Utah, Mr. H. C. Johnson!, testifies that in
its nesting habits this jay is decidedly erratic. Sometimes it nests
singly, but oftener en colonie. While they nest preferably in some
variety of conifer, pinyon, scrub cedar, juniper, and the like, they occur
also in the mountain mahogany (Cercocarpus ledifolius Nutt.), or even
in brushy thickets. One mountain mahogany he knows of that is ‘fairly
full of nests, some nearly touching each other.’’ Evidently the ‘‘ Native
Sons’’ have been caught napping.
1The Condor, vol. IV., p. 14.
The Black-billed Magpie
Taken in Washington Photo by the Author
NEST OF MAGPIE IN GREASEWOOD
No. 5
American Magpie
A. O. U. No. 475. Pica pica hudsonia (Sabine).
Synonym.—BLACcK-BILLED MAGPIE
Description.—A dults: Black and white; head and neck, breast, back, crissum,
thighs and upper tail coverts, axillars and lining of wings, glossy hlack with steely
purplish and bronzy green reflections; the throat with whitish shaft streaks; an elongated
scapular patch pure white; lower breast, upper abdomen, flanks and: sides broadly
pure white; primaries extensively white on inner ‘web; a broad band on rump with
large admixture of white; remainder of wings and tail black, their exposed upper sur-
faces with shiny metallic reflections, those of the wing chiefly greenish blue, those of
the tail bronzy green changing sub-terminally through purple and violet; tail narrowly
graduated through terminal three-fifths. Bill, bare orbital space, legs, and feet, black:
iris brown, surrounded by gray. Young birds lack iridescence on head and are else-
where duller, the throat marked with whitish shaft lines and outcropping of basal white;
relative length of tail sure index of age in juvenile specimens. Length of adults, 406.4-
Sl
The Black-billed Magpie
508 (16.00-20.00), of which tail, av. 265 (8.00-12.00); wing 200 (7.85); bill (exposed
culmen) 35 (1.35); tarsus 47 (1.85).
Recognition Marks.—Black and white plumage with long tail unmistakable,
bill black as distinguished from P. nuttalli.
Nesting.— Nest: Normally a large sphere of interlaced sticks, ‘“‘as big as a bushel
basket,’ placed 5 to 40 feet high in willow, aspen, grease-wood or pine. The nest
proper is a contained hemisphere of mud 8 to 10 inches across inside, and with walls
I to 2 inches in thickness, carefully lined for half its depth with twigs surmounted by a
mat of fine rootlets. Eggs: 7 or 8, rarely 10, pale grayish green, quite uniformly freckled
and spotted with olive-green or olive-brown. Occasionally spots nearly confluent in
heavy ring about larger end, in which case remainder of egg likely to be less heavily
marked than usual. Shape variable, rounded ovate to elongate ovate. Av. size,
32.5 X 22.9 (1.28 x .90); index 70.3. Season: March 20-May 1; one brood.
Range of Pica pica.—Europe, the most of Asia, and North America south to
Arizona and New Mexico.
Range of P. p. hudsonia.—Resident in the western United States (except the
Pacific Coast district), and interiorly in the British Provinces; from central New
Mexico and western Texas north to central Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Alberta,
and northwestward to the middle Yukon and the eastern Aleutian Islands: casually,
eastward in the North Central States to Ontario and the Hudson Bay region.
Range in Californias—Common resident in Upper Sonoran and Transition
zones, northeast of the Sierran divide; less commonly east of the Sierras as far south
as Independence in Inyo County, and (formerly at least) west along the northern
border of the State to Shasta Valley.
Authorities.—Newberry, Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. vi., pt. iv., 1857, p. 84;
Henshaw, Rept. Orn. Wheeler Survey, 1879, pp. 306-307 (nesting habits); Bendire,
Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 349-353, (habits, nests and eggs); Fisher,
W. K., Condor, vol. iv., 1902, pp. 6, 11 (habits); Ray, Auk, vol. xx., 1903, p. 185 (nest-
ing).
HERE IS another of those rascals in feathers who keep one alter-
nately grumbling and admiring. As an abstract proposition one would
not stake a sou marquee on the virtue of a Magpie; but taken in the
concrete, with a sly wink and a saucy tilt of the tail, one will rise to his
feet, excitedly shouting, “Go it, Jackity,’’ and place all his earnings
on this pie-bald steed in the race for avian honors. It is impossible to
exaggerate this curious contradiction in Magpie nature, and in our
resulting attitude towards it. It is much the same with the mischievous
small boy. He has surpassed the bounds of legitimate naughtiness,
and we take him on the parental knee for well-deserved correction.
But the saucy culprit manages to steal a roguish glance at us,—a glance
which challenges the remembrance of our own boyish pranks, and bids
us ask what difference it will make twenty years after; and it is all off with
discipline for that occasion.
The Magpie is indisputably a wretch, a miscreant, a cunning thief,
a heartless marauder, a brigand bold—Oh, call him what you will! But,
withal, he is such a picturesque villain, that as often as you are stirred
S2
SH
AMERICAN MAGPIE
The Black-billed Magpie
with righteous indignation and impelled to punitive slaughter, you fall
to wondering if your commission as avenger is properly countersigned,
and—shirk the task outright.
The cattle-men have it in for him, because the persecutions of the
Magpie sometimes prevent scars made by the branding iron from healing;
and cases are known in which young stock has died because of malignant
sores resulting. This is, of course, a grave misdemeanor; anything
which affects our pocketbook is sure
to be rated such. But when the in-
humane custom of branding
shall have been discontinued,
as it will be when the fence-
loving farmer triumphs over
the freedom-loving cattleman
(a sad day, however), we shall
hear no more complaints of
the Magpie on the score of
_ cruelty to animals.
Beyond this it is indis-
putably true that Magpies
are professional nest robbers.
At times they will organize sys-
tematic searching parties, and
advance through the sage-brush,
poking, prying, spying, and de-
vouring, with the ruthlessness
and precision of a_ pestilence.
Not only eggs but young birds
are appropriated. I once sawa
Magpie seize a half-grown
Meadowlark from its nest, carry
it to its own domicile, and parcel
it out among its clamoring brood.
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author Then, in spite of the best de-
A BIRD IN THE HAND fense the agonized parents could
institute, it calmly returned and
selected another. Sticks and stones shied by the birdman merely deferred
the doom of the remaining larks. The Magpie was not likely to forget
the whereabouts of such easy meat.
Nor is such a connoisseur of eggs likely to overlook the opportunities
afforded by a poultry yard. He becomes an adept at purloining eggs,
Si
wt
Pe
AyunoD oduy ul uaye yf,
4oyjn py ayy hq aaippbau v TOT
adder pofiq-ypryg Jo ye.310g
osog Ayuner V
The Black-billed Magpie
and can make off with his booty
with astonishing ease. One
early morning, seeing a Magpie
fly over the corral with some-
thing large and white in his
bill, and believing that he had
alighted not far beyond, I fol-
lowed quickly and frightened
him from a large hen’s egg,
which bore externally the marks
of the bird’s bill, but which was
unpierced. Of course the only
remedy for such a habit is the |}
shot-gun.
To say that Magpies are
garrulous would be as trite as
to say hens cackle, and the ad-
jective could not be better
defined than ‘‘talking like a
Magpie.” The Magpie is the
symbol of loquacity. The very
type in which this is printed is
small pica; that is, small Mag-
pie. Much of this bird’s con-
versation is undoubtedly unfit
for print, but it has always the
merit of vivacity. A party of
Magpies will keep up a running
commentary on current events,
now facetious, now vehement,
as they move about; while a
comparative cessation of the
racket means, as likely as not,
that some favorite raconteur is
holding forth, and that there ““UNDOUBTEDLY UNFIT FOR PRINT”’
will be an explosion of riotous
laughter when his tale is done. The pie, like Nero, aspires to song; but
no sycophant will be found to praise him, for he intersperses his more tune-
ful musings with chacks and barks and harsh interjections which betray
a disordered taste. In modulation and quality, however, the notes some-
times verge upon the human; and it is well known that Magpies can be
instructed until they acquire a handsome repertoire of speech.
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
EXPOSTULATION
Sye
J
The Black-billed Mag pie
In order that their double quartet of youngsters may be lined up for
the egg harvest, the Magpies take an early start at home building. Aprilis
Taken in Inyo,County HERSELF Photo by the Author
THIS MAGPIE IS THE MOTHER OF THE YOUNGSTER SHOWN ON PAGE 34
36
the normal nesting
month, and thereare
late March records
as far north as the
northern border of
the U.S. In the high
plateau region of
northwestern Cali-
fornia, however,
early May eggs are
the rule rather than
the exception. The
birds resort at nest-
ing time to the most
out-of-the-way
places, where they
breed in straggling
colony fashion. The
near vicinity of
water is deemed a
prime requisite, so
spring *draws”
covered with wil-
lows or quaking
asps are favorite
stations. Nests are,
normally, at mod-
erate heights, in
willows, elders, or
Crataegus bushes,
but in regions where
they have been sub-
jected to persecu-
tion, the birds will
resort to pine trees,
if available, or in
more desert situa-
tion to junipers,
mountain mahog-
any, sage bushes, or
The Black-billed Magpie
even the ground. The nest is a neat ball of interlacing sticks set
about a hollow half-sphere of dried mud. The amount of labor expen-
ded upon one of these structures is prodigious. The greasewood
nest shown at the head of this article is three feet deep and two feet
through, and the component sticks are so firmly interwoven that no ordi-
nary agency, short of the human hand, can effect an entrance. The
bird enters through an obscure passage in one side, and, if surprised
upon the nest, has always a way of escape planned through the opposite
wall. The mud cup is carefully shaped with walls an inch or two in
thickness, a total breadth of eight or ten inches, and a like depth. In
the best construction this cavity is filled to a depth of three or four inches
with a loose mat of fine twigs of a uniform size. Upon this, in turn, is
placed a coiled mattress of fine, clean rootlets, the whole affording a very
sanitary arrangement.
Magpies, like Blue Jays, are discreetly quiet in nesting time, and
especially so if they have attempted to nest in the vicinity of a farm-
house. Else, and save for the presence of man, the Magpie has little
to fear. His home is his castle in a very literal sense.
Young Magpies are unsightly when hatched,—‘“‘ worse than naked,”
and repulsive to a degree equaled only by young Cormorants. Hideous
as they unquestionably are, the devoted parents declare them angels,
and are ready to back their opinions with most raucous vociferations.
With the possible exception of Herons, who are plebes anyhow, Magpies
are the most abusive and profane of birds. When a nest of young birds
is threatened, they not only express such reasonable anxiety as any parent
might feel, but they denounce, upbraid, anathematize, and vilify the
intruder, and decry his lineage from Adam down. They show the in-
genuity of Orientals in inventing opprobrious epithets, and when these
run dry, they fall to tearing at the leaves, the twigs, the branches, or
even light on the ground and rip up the soil with their beaks, in the mad
extremity of their rage.
A pair with whom I experimented in Washington rather fell into
the humor of the thing. The Magpie is ever a wag, and these must
have known that repeated visits could mean no harm. Nevertheless, as
often as I rattled the nest from my favorite perch on the willow tree, the old
pies opened fresh vials of wrath and emptied their contents upon my
devoted head. When mere utterance became inadequate, the male
bird fell to hewing at the end of a broken branch in most eloquent
indignation. He wore this down four inches in the course of my
three visits. Once, when my attention was diverted, he took a sly
crack at my outstretched fingers, which were hastily withdrawn; and,
believe me, we both laughed.
37
The Yellow-billed Magpie
The Black-billed Magpie winters practically throughout its breeding
range. In the fall, however, it gathers into flocks, sometimes of quite
considerable size. Such flocks, dependent upon the food supply, range
widely, and as a result may be said to indulge in irregular migratory
movements. Flock movements are sometimes performed with a un-
animity of impulse akin to that of Sandpipers, and the sight of say fifty
Magpies, black-and-white wings a-flutter and long tails streaming,
slewing and tacking with the wind, is indeed a memorable one.
Wherever permitted, the Magpie becomes a faithful pensioner of
the slaughter house. Stock men take advantage of the birds’ weakness
for meat, and assail them with shot-gun or poison. The birds learn to be
wary of both, but between these attacks and the annual raiding of the
nesting grounds, it is perfectly possible to clear the Magpies out of a
given range. The first discovery of a “‘fallen hero’’ by one of his comrades
is the invariable signal for a noisy wake. The clan is summoned by
sharp cries, and the members assemble from far and near in quick re-
sponse. Now one and now another hops up cautiously to view the
remains, while all make strident cries which voice their undying indig-
nation at man’s cruelty. And, indeed, now that we think of it, what
is the use in trying to reduce the varied offspring of nature to one dead
level of mediocrity! If all birds were good little dickey birds, and said
tweet tweet with pious uniformity, some men, now saintly, would un-
doubtedly be moved to profane utterance. Here, then, is a toast to the
Magpie, cheerful, lovable devil of a bird that he is!
No. 6
Yellow-billed Magpie
A. O. U. No. 476. Pica nuttalli (Audubon).
Synonym.—CAaLirornia MAGPIE.
Description.—Exactly similar in body coloration to Pica pica hudsonia, but bill
and bare orbital space yellow and smaller. Length 406.4-457.2 (16.00-18.00); wing
187.5 (7.38); tail 238 (9.37); bill 31 (1.22); length at nostril 12.5 (.49); tarsus 48 (1.89).
Recognition Marks.—Black-and-white coloration; long tail; yellow bill.
Remarks.—The bright yellow bare skin below and behind eye and on the sides
of the throat is a conspicuous feature of nestling birds, showing that the distinguishing
characters of this bird are long established.
Nesting.— Nest: Much as in preceding; a sturdy sphere of interlaced twigs,
penetrated obscurely by hole giving access to contained hemisphere of mud or dried
cowdung; deeply cupped and cushioned with rootlets, or, rarely, horsehair; placed
in trees at any height, chiefly in white oaks and cottonwoods. Eggs: 5-7, rarely 8, or
even 9: yellowish glaucous or pale olive-buff, finely and rather uniformly speckled and
38
widely, and as a fives may be said to ie in ae pn lleies ok A
‘movements, Flock sovemerts are ¢ometimes performed with aoun-
animity of lpypulse akin to that of Sandpipers, and the sight of say fifty
Magpies, Wackund.white wings a-Autter and long tails: streaming, —
Sewing ant tacking “ith the wind, is indeed a memorable one. i
Whereser permitted, the Magpie becomes a faithful pensioner Nhe
on Hiatt todee. rock men take advantage of the birds’ weakness
#@ thesl, ae) aesail teers with shot-gun or poison. The birds learn tobe
— = Both. oot between these attacks and the annual raiding of the
pe <, Mie Perfectly possible to clear the Magpies out of a
> he hires diecavery of a ‘fallen hero”’ by one of his comrades —
“is a ike ik «nat for a noisy wake. The clan is summoned by ©
Bal if aah gal ike meabhers assemble from far and near in quick re-
o. “ee ope axel now another hops up cautiously to view the
pa. whe af make strident cries which voice their undying indig-
nario a) ees crmelty. And, indeed, now that we think of Wt, what
i hr ose! oe trylig te reduce the varied offspring of nature to one dead
mast cf pretiogiiy! 7! all birds were good little dickey birds, and said
herst Beer vath pinus ~anormity, s men, now saintly, would un-
diubtedly be nor ay hi (ol illed Magpie PIE, then, is a toast to the
Magpie, cheerful, lovable deAbbuti™ life-sizehat he is!
From a water-color painting by Major Allan Brooks
No. 6
Yellow-billed Magpie
A, OU, No. 476. Pica nuttalli (Audubon).
Seoonvimn——CaLivornra Mace.
Description. ~-Buagctiy similar in body coloration to Pica pica aasana! but bill
fil Bare arhtot amet wellyw add smaller. Length 406.4-457.2 (16,00-18.00)} wing).
PRS CS Re Ra aes) SEM FN (0.92); length lat nostril 12.5 (.40)5 tarsus 48 OL BOG,
Reconinicio Marke. Sin cei bait sh usa tone tail; yellow, aie
Wha, beigst
veerwnore. Heys 8-7, rarely 8
Sale ist eren my ee id.
The Yellow-billed Magpie
spotted with buffy brown or citrine drab or grayish olive or deep grayish olive. Av.
of 195 eggs in the M. C. O. collections: 30.8 x 22.4 (1.22 x .88); index 72.1. Largest
egg, 37 X 23.4 (1.46 x .92); smallest, 26.7 x 20.3 (1.05 x .80). Season: first week in
April; one brood.
Range (Wholly included in California).—California west of the Sierras, chiefly
in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Valley, and in the south central coastal counties;
from Tehama County (Anderson, Shasta County, July 4, 1916—may possibly have
been semi-domesticated birds at liberty), south to northern Ventura County and Santa
Barbara County north of the Santa Ynez range (formerly to Santa Barbara, Santa
Paula, Simi, etc.), east to central Butte County, Clipper Gap, Placer County, and
Visalia in Tulare County, west to Mount St. Helena and the coast of Monterey County.
Range thus included within about 35 contiguous counties, undoubtedly more restricted
than formerly.
Authorities—Audubon (Corvus nuttallii), Birds of America (folio ed.), vol.
iv., 1836, pl. 362, fig. 1 (orig. descr. from Santa Barbara, Calif.);Gambel, Journ. Acad.
Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol. i., 1847, pp. 46-47 (habits); Evermann, Amer. Nat., vol. xx.,
1886, pp. 607-611 (habits; nesting); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895,
PP- 355-356, pl. iil., fig. 14 (habits, nests and eggs); Noack, Condor, vol. iv., 1902,
pp. 78-79 (voice); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 67 (status in s. Calif.);
Stone, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, pp. 8-9 (history of discovery).
IN ALL the world there are but two distinct types of Magpie, the
Black-billed and the Yellow-billed. The former is pretty well distributed
over the Northern Hemisphere, while the latter is confined to California.
We find California matching the world, therefore, in a situation which
invites special attention. Where did the Magpies come from? and how
did they get here? For both species have arrived in California. A
study of the distribution of the black-billed species, the Pica pica type,
quickly shows that its center of dispersal is north central Asia. Not
impossibly, the genus Pica had its origin in the north Himalayan region,
now emptied of its progeny, but which scientists assert to have been the
ancient cradle of the human race. For the occurrence of seven or eight
closely related subspecies at such extremes as Spain (melanonota), nor-
thern Africa (mauritanica), northern Europe (pica), northern Asia
(bactriana), China (sericea), and northwestern America (hudsonia),
clearly indicate a radial distribution. The American representative,
therefore, of the black-billed species, arrived by the way of the well-
known land-bridge which once connected Siberia and Alaska. But
when at last Audsonza reached California, it found Pica nuttalli anciently
entrenched, and it recoiled. How did nuttalli get here? Probably not
by the Bering land-bridge, at least not at the time of the latest estab-
lishment of that bridge; else its progress could still be traced by a series
of related forms. Two hypotheses only remain, both daring, and destitute
alike of actual foundation. Either nwttalli is an ur-ancient emigrant from
Asia, whose congeners were blotted out by the oncoming of the ice age,
IY
The Yellow-billed Magpie
or else the nuttalli stock was planted here by direct, and of course, arti-
ficial, though prehistoric, importation from eastern Asia. It is quite
conceivable that Pica pica stock,
NP especially if represented by a single
Bre
pair, suddenly released under ab-
solutely different conditions,
should develop a sharp variant
which would soon achieve validity
as an independent species. Against
the former hypothesis should be
urged the failure of the species to
react from its narrow confines (in
theoretical southern California),
when it was released by the ice.
And in favor of the latter hypo-
thesis may be urged the very
limited distribution which the bird
has attained, even in California.
It is authoritatively reported from
only thirty counties (or, by in-
clusion, thirty-seven), all contigu-
ous, out of a possible fifty-nine.
We cannot tell; but at any rate
there is a profoundly interesting
problem here.
One who is familiar with both
species, pica and nuttall1, finds it a
little difficult to draw distinctions
of any other sort save color and
size between them. ‘There are no
recognizable peculiarities of voice,
or motion, or nesting habit, which will serve to distinguish them. Yet
I have a feeling that the Yellow-billed Magpie is a weaker stock, less
aggressive and resourceful, than its northern kinsman. On the whole,
too, | think it is a quieter bird. Occupying, as it does, a more favored
area, with open winters, there is perhaps a less highly developed social
instinct in the southern bird, with probably a less frequent resort to
mob tactics. But none of these points can be pressed.
Whatever the cause, whether a less virile stock, or the more intimate
pressure of civilization, it is certain that Yellow-billed Magpies are
suffering a gradual reduction of distributional area, with steadily de-
creasing numbers. At the present rate of destruction (from injuries real
40
Taken in San Luis Obispo County Photo by the Author
A CRITICAL MOMENT—COUNTING THE EGGS
The Yellow-billed Magpie
or fancied), it is not at all improbable that the species may be extirpated,
a truly deplorable event.
The Yellow-billed Magpie usually breeds in scattered colonies,
either in the cottonwoods of river-bottoms, in the oak trees, whether
“live’’ or deciduous, which dot the lower levels of the foothills, or else
in the mixed cover, oak, ceanothus, and digger pine, which clothes the
middle levels of the hills. The birds are very much attached to the
locality of their choice,
returning year after year
to occupy the same trees,
and in some instances en-
during persecution on
this account to the point
of extinction. At other
times, and especially in
level country dotted with
white oaks, the colony will
shift from year to year.
A Magpie’s nest, big
asa bushel basket, would — popen in ge
seem to be about the 3307 "Gounty ne rE:
most conspicuous arti-
ficial object in a tree-top:
but it so happens that the distributional area of Pica nuttalli nearly
coincides with that of the mistletoe (Phoradendron flavescens Nutt. and
P. villosum Nutt.). As a result we have trees full of Magpies’ nests —
to appearance — with never a bird about. Or, if the birds are about,
they are cunning enough to avail themselves of the mistletoe bunches,
either building in the clump itself, or building in trees generously pro-
vided with these puzzling decoys. One Magpie’s nest I found in San
Luis Obispo County was only one of twenty-five likely-looking chances
in a single tree.
If undisturbed, a pair of birds will usually return to the same tree
each season, rarely, indeed, to occupy last year’s nest, but often to use it
as a foundation for the new structure. Double nests, on this account, are
common, and I once found a composite structure, a huge pile, representing
the work of four successive seasons. When approached, the sitting bird
usually sits tight until the climber is within a few feet of the nest. Then
she makes good her escape from the opposite side, and takes care for the
nonce to keep the nest, or the tree, or both, between herself and the
pursuer.
THE CHOLAME NESTING
41
The Yellow-billed Magpie
A bulky sphere, or inverted pear-shaped mass of sticks, greets the
investigator, for the upper dome, or cover, is likely to be a little larger
than the lower, which contains the nesting bowl proper. Three feet in
depth by two and a half in width, over all, are the regulation dimensions
for these castles; but I have seen splendid nests, all new construction,
which measured 4% by 3% feet, roughly thirty-three and a half cubic
feet of material, including house room. The bowl, or matrix, is some-
times formed of mud, but oftener of cow-dung, for this substance is both
more convenient and more durable for birds in the cattle country. The
wall of an experienced builder dips gracefully to the depth of an inch or
two at the entrance; while the entire bowl is from seven to ten inches in
diameter inside, by from four to seven in depth to the floor-lining. Of
course, this large space is not completely occupied by the body of the
sitting bird. It is only a provision for that roomful of youngsters which
is on the way. In at least one instance I have noted a second or inner
hollow, in the mud cup, exactly fitted to the dimensions of the sitting
bird.
Eggs to the number of seven, rarely more, are deposited upon a
generous mattress lining of roots or coiled grasses. Incubation lasts
twenty-one days, during which time the bared breast of the brooding bird
is grievously tormented with fleas. There is no time for recuperation,
though, after the youngsters come. Life, instead, becomes one long
nightmare of effort to fill seven insatiable maws. What wonder, then,
if milady, and milord as well, help themselves freely to certain store-
houses of albuminous nourishment duly made and provided by their
less fortunate feathered neighbors? Or what wonder if Lady Mourning
Dove and Sir Meadowlark are requisitioned for squabs and _ broilers?
Let him that is without sin among us cast the first stone.
Another brief, also, can be made out in defense of the Magpie. His
deserted tenements are exceedingly useful both as retreats and as domiciles
for certain other birds. Come to think of it, though, the ‘‘other birds,”’
Sparrow Hawk, Long-eared Owl, and Pacific Horned Owl, belong them-
selves to the brigand list. Perhaps we would better not press that plea.
One hesitates to recommend these vanishing fowls as cage-birds,
not because they are not commendable, but because they are vanishing.
Our legislature has placed wise restraints upon the use of native birds
as captives. But those who will undertake the task of foster-parenthood
seriously, and provide adequate quarters and abundant food for their
pets—such will find the Magpie among their most interesting pensioners.
An aviculturist of wide experience, Mr. H. R. Noack, of Oakland, secured
two Yellow-billed Magpies which furnished him and his friends no end
of sport. One of the birds, a male, ‘‘ John Henry,’’ developed a gratifying
42
The Yellow-billed Magpie
gift of speech, and that without the silly tongue-cutting operation, which
some people advocate. He called his master and his mate by name,
and made a delightful nuisance of himself by calling in the neighbors on
various and sundry, but quite unnecessary, occasions. Mr. Noack
Taken in San Luis Obispo County Photo by the Author
A WHITE OAK NESTING
THE TWO MAGPIES’ NESTS WHICH THIS TREE CONTAINS ARE SCARCELY TO
BE DISTINGUISHED FROM THE CLUMPS OF MISTLETOE
continues: ‘‘Our stable is within fifty feet of the Magpie’s cage, and my
brother, who was acting as hostler, was often about ready to swear
when hitching up or currying the horse, when John Henry would cluck
to the horse, ‘ck ck ck’, and then say ‘Get up, Peter, get up, get up,’
45}
The California Jays
following immediately with ‘Whoa boy, whoa,’ and following with such
a variation of ‘whoas’ and ‘get-ups’ and clucks, that the poor horse would
not know what to do.
‘“‘One of the most amusing uses to which the Magpie puts his powers
is to call the chickens—‘ chick, chick, chick, chick,’ and when they have
run, eager and expectant, in the direction from which the sound comes,
which is, naturally, the cage, to seize one by the comb or the back of the
neck and pull out a few feathers or spill a little blood. An old game hen
used to respond to his calls, and as soon as she received a tweak on the
head would ruffle up and begin a regular fight through the wire netting.
At this time John Henry exhibited himself at his best. While flying at
the hen he would keep saying ‘Chick-chick-chick, come on, come on,
Harry, Harry—get up, hello’. In fact he would go through almost his
entire vocabulary while fighting and pulling out feathers.”
No. 7
California Jay
A. O. U. No. 481. Aphelocoma californica californica (Vigors).
Description.—Adult in fresh (fall and winter) plumage: Pileum, hind-neck
sides of neck, and breast (with interrupted borders of jugular white patch), wings,,
upper tail-coverts, and tail, bright grayish blue (cadet blue to venetian blue); darker
(deep cadet blue) on crown and nape; lighter (king’s blue) on wings and upper tail-
coverts; tertials and rectrices finely and obscurely barred with darker; concealed
webs of flight-feathers, and inner edges of rectrices, dusky; the shafts of wings and tail
black; cheeks dark blue (hortense blue) changing to slaty black on auriculars; a super-
ciliary line of white streaks; chin, throat, and chest, white, the plumage loose and
streaked with bluish dusky; back and scapulars warm brownish gray (benzo brown),
sometimes glossed with blue, paling with eruptive white and mingled bluish on wing;
breast, immediately below jugular area, warm grayish brown, fading quickly to pale
brownish gray on belly and sides; crissum pale bluish white; axillars and lining of
wings mouse-gray, sometimes tinged with bluish. Bill and feet, black; iris, brown.
Adult in worn (spring and summer) plumage: Blue wearing off on head, sides of breast,
and tertials, with increasing exposure of dusky drab bases; brown of back fading
irregularly to drab and light drab; underparts, duller, soiled and brownish. Young
birds are much like adult in worn plumage, but duller,—blue scarcely discernible over
the drabs of head, neck, and sides of breast. Length of adult male 292-318 (11.50-
12.50); average of 31 (after Swarth): wing 119.5 (4.70); tail 133.3 (5.24); culmen 25.6
(1.01); depth at nostril 8.5 (.33); tarsus 39.6 (1.56). Females average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; blue and gray coloration, without crest;
underparts lighter than in A. woodhousei, and crissum white, or white tinged with
bluish, instead of definitely blue.
44
Lina (Feros
“f : California Jays
following immediately with * Whoe boy, whoa,’ and following with such
‘2 variation of “wheas’ and ‘get-upe’ and chicks, that the poor fhorile would:
not know what io ae.
“One of the moet aniising uses to which the Magpie puts his powers
is to call the chickens —“‘chivk, hi he, ole . chick,’ and when they have
sun, eager aud expectant, in the 4 om irom which the sound comes,
which is, naturally. > cage, to séian ces tay the comb of the back of the
neck and pul! out a few feathers or aadli a bettie Higed, “An old game hen
bs ae eos: gh she peceivind a tweak on the
head wor 0 reat. uel Haigh te peaeitag ¢ vere é gaia ued the wire netting.
At thie time Pen Tesh aehetaied nis best. While flying at
the hen a wind Seen gayi “Lee pie e dg come on, come on,
Harty. Harte---as4 oe : gould go through almost his
eniire vecsimebace sin: Aplin ane! = ont leathers.’
Celiiorsia Jay
AS SD Nae gy Apheloon@alirornined ay iorsica {Vigors).
Description.—Aduii te fresk ath wre yeeinien plumage: Pileun:, hinder
Hees of neck, and. breast {with interrupted sorders of jugular white pateh), w Aber
upper fail-coverts, and tail, bright grayish biue (cadet blue to: venetian bhuet: darker
(deep cadet blue) on crown aud nape; lighter (king's blue) on wings and upper tail-
eoverts; tertials and rectrices finely and obscurely barred with darker; concealed
webs of flight-feathers, and inner edges of rectrices, dusky; the shafts of wings and tail
black: cheeks dark blue (hortense blue) changing to slaty black en auriculars; a super=
ciliary line of white streaks; chin, threat, and chest, white, the plumage loose and —
streaked with biuish dusky; back and scapulars warm brownish gray (benzo brown),
sometimes glossed with blue, paling wich eruptive white and mingled bluish on wing:
breast, unmediatciy below ; jugalar area, warm grayish brown, fading quickly to pate
brownish gray on belly and sides. crissuei pele bluish white; axillars and lining of
MAGS TROL YTEY sirens taped with tduish, Bill and fect, black; iris, brown.
Adset ry Kin and hy sheer ee oc) Wis wearing off on head, sides of breast,
me wertiats, “ate ts # ewoueere ch ateeks vals base; Drown of back fading
Hiteriarhs to donk wed Tu arated wedkeeparta ol =. soiled aad brewnish. | Young
Bines ark nea Whe hei oe aie aoe, Lae, eis “blue searcely discernible over
Bees : iat eriesit), xan of adult male 292-318 (11.50
sare ak eg 70); tail 133.3 (5:24); culmen 25.6 >
te i258). - Kemales average smalier.
live and gray ecloration, withdut ‘crest;
er ears ace see i de A. cept; crissum whe, or white tinged with
rowing. Sangeet rads
Hllan (Hr oa4gs -
The California Jays
Nesting.— Nest: Basally a crude criss-cross of long twigs; middle structure
very scanty or wanting; lining, typically, of coiled rootlets, always of uniform der-
ivation; innermost lining, or not, of coiled horsehair or matted cowhair; mlaced at any
height in bush or tree. Eggs: 4-6, of two types: The green type, ground-color pale
sulphate green to lichen green, spotted or blotched, chiefly at larger end, with deep
olive or lincoln green; the “‘red’’ type, ground-color clear grayish white to lichen-green,
spotted with warm sepia or bister to Rood’s brown. Av. of 140 eggs in the M.C. O.
collection 27.4 x 20.3 (1.08 x .80); index 74. Extremes measure, 34.3 x 19 (1.35 X .75);
index 57; and 24.4 x 20 (.96 x .79); index 82. Season: April, one brood.
spoke
Dp”
Taken at Los Colibris Photo by the Author
DISTRUSTFUL
Range of Aphelocoma californica.—California, except the southeastern desert
regions, Lower California, and western Oregon, north to and barely across the
Columbia River in the neighborhood of Vancouver, Washington.
Range of 4. c. californica.—‘‘A relatively narrow strip along the coast of Cali-
fornia and northern Lower California; from the San Pedro Martir Mountains, Lower
California, north on the coastal slope of California, west of the southern Sierras and
the Coast ranges, through the San Diegan and Santa Cruz districts to the south side
of San Francisco Bay’’ (Swarth).
Authorities.—Vigors (Garrulus californicus), Zoology of Beechey’s Voyage,
1839, p. 21, pl. v. (original description; type from Monterey, Calif.); Gambel, Proc.
Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii., 1847, pp. 201-202 (crit.); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer.
Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 374-377 (part), pl. v., fig. 17 (habits, nest and eggs); Merriam,
F. A., Auk, vol. xiii., 1896, p. 120 (burying acorns); Beal, Biol. Sury. Bull., no. 34,
1910, pp. 50-56, pl. iii. (part) (food); Mailliard, J., Condor, vol. xiv., 1912, p. 42 (record
of nests); Grinnell and Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. 10, 1913, pp. 261-262 (crit.
re obscura); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. 17, 1918, pp. 410-413, I fig. (crit.;
range).
75)
The California Jays
No. 7a Grinnell’s California Jay
A. O. U. No. 481 part. Aphelocoma californica immanis Grinnell.
Description.—Similar to A. c. californica, but slightly larger and paler both
above and below, the blue areas ‘‘Chapman’s blue”’ instead of cadet blue; the under
tail-coverts usually pure white. Av. of 31: wing 125.9 (4.96); tail 138.5 (5.45); culmen
25.4 (1.00); depth at nostril 9.3 (.366); tarsus 40.8 (1.60).
Range.— ‘Extreme southern Washington; in Oregon those valleys lying between
the Cascades and the Coast Ranges, and south in California through the Sacramento
and San Joaquin valleys and the Sierra Nevada. East to the Warner Mountains and
the eastern base of the Sierra Nevada.”’ (Swarth).
Authorities.—Newberry (Cyanocitta californica), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol.
vi., pt. iv., 1857, p. 85; Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 374-377 (part)
(habits, nest and eggs); Beal, Biol. Surv. Bull. no. 34, 1910, pp. 50-56, pl. iii., (part)
(food); Grinnell, Condor, vol. xili., 1911, p. 109 (relation to small birds); Oberholser,
Condor, vol. xix., 1917, pp. 94, 95 (taxonomy); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol.
17, 1918, pp. 415-417, 1 fig. (desc.; range; crit.).
No. 7b Swarth’s California Jay
A. O. U. No. 481 part. Aphelocoma californica oocleptica Swarth.
Description.—Like A. c. californica, but averaging slightly larger. Av. of 7:
wing 125.4 (4.94); tail 136.7 (5.37); culmen 25.8 (1.02); depth at nostril 9.1 (.36); tarsus
41.5 (1.63).
Range.— ‘The Coast region of northern California, west from Mount Diablo
and the Coast ranges. North to Humboldt Bay, south to the Golden Gate and the
east side of San Francisco Bay.’’ (Swarth).
Authorities.—Baird (Cyanocitta californica), Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix.,
1858, p. 585; Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 374-377 (part) pl. v.,
fig. 15 (habits, nest and eggs); Mailliard, J., Condor, vol. ii., 1900, pp. 58-59, 94-95,
126 (habits); Cohen, Osprey, vol. vi., 1902, pp. 1-6, 1 fig. (habits); Mazlliard, J. W.,
Condor, vol. xiv., 1912, p. 42 (nesting); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. 17, 1918,
pp. 413-415, I fig. (description of oocleptica; range).
CALIFORNIA is the land of unfailing contrasts. Hot or cold,
wet or dry, green or brown, low or high, you may order what you will
(so you order your own movements to correspond), and lo, it is yours
within the hour. But most striking of all Californian contrasts, is that
ever recurring one between civilization and the wilderness. Does your
soul abhor crowds, then escape to the wilderness forthwith and find
solace. On a New Year’s Day, when Pasadena was threatening to
celebrate its annual Festival of Roses, the writer with a nature-loving
companion fled to the hills, and at the very moment when the customary
queen was being crowned amid the huzzas of a perspiring and dishevelled
populace some seven miles away, we were ogling a band of deer as they
picked their way daintily over the steep slopes of chaparral.
Finer yet was a contrast which met my immigrant eyes at Berkeley
gO
The California Jays
some thirteen yearsago. Having dutifully done the honors of our imposing
State educational plant, civilization’s finest fruitage, I took leave of my
punctilious host at the Greek Theater, sacred to the memory of our
immortal Hearst, and within ten minutes had regained Eden, an Adamless
and Eveless spot, hidden in a curve of the hills, choked with greenery,
and where only the birds murmured. And, sure enough, there came
the guardian angel (?) (I had entered by an unused trail, it seemed )—or
was it a blue-coated gendarme noisily brandishing a flaming sword?
‘‘ Jayick! jayick!’’ It is he! It is he! The sweet, authentic devil, the
California Jay! He, the malaprop, the impertinent, the sly wag, thief,
scoundrel, outcast, jackal of the bush, bon homme libre, as innocent as
morning, as industrious as noon, as wicked as night. C'est le dernier des
Oiseaux.
But there is California for you! Within the academic shades the
grave tread of the masters, masters of philosophies and of arts and of men.
A shade removed, this master of obliquities, ruling his kingdom of the
untrod.
The California Jay occupies a commanding position in the life of the
chaparral and of oak-covered hillsides, throughout California. By
““commanding’’ we do not mean exactly that everything is ordered accord-
ing to the Blue Jay’s will; but it is certain that little takes place without
his knowledge; and, as we shall see, presently, he is undoubtedly the
chief biological control factor in the distribution of bird-life throughout
the area specified. The abundance of the jays and the thoroughness or
uniformity of their distribution within any given area will astonish one
who has not given close attention to the matter. Try this test: A7ss
the moistened hand in such diligent fashion as to produce what Coues has
so well called a screeping sound. This under a little practice sounds like
the distress call of a wounded bird, and a distress note is the rally call of
all jays. If you are in jay country at all, first one and then another of
the blue-coated rascals will come slipping up through the shrubbery,
until you may have a dozen of them poking and peering to discover the
source of the commotion. To perfect the play rigid immobility is nec-
essary on the part of the student. Birds detect motion before they do
color or form, and at the first discovery of man’s presence there is a
vigorous outcry and a gradual edging away on the part of the crestfallen
birds. But whatever the fashion of your luck at that particular siren
station, you will have found at least that California Jays exist almost
everywhere within earshot in suitable country.
The ‘“‘screeping’’ test is also a good school for the study of Jay
manners. Furtiveness, curiosity, impudence, drollery,—all these qualities
come out. And Oh! the noise of it! The Jay’s ordinary alarm note is
47
The California Jays
an astonishing vocal outbreak, dzweep or dzweep, with which the groves
are brought up standing. No masquerader at Mardi Gras ever sprung
such a cacophonic device upon a quiveringly expectant public. Dzweep
zweep—it curdles the blood, as it is meant to do. It costs the bird an
effort, no doubt, for the whole body moves in sympathy. Could any-
thing be more saucy than the mocking bow of the California Jay, as he
dips his head and jerks his tail and asks, ‘‘Who the devil are you?’’ And
there he shifts and scrapes and challenges until nervousness gets the
better of valor, and he is off to a neighboring cover with exaggerated
flirt and fluff of wing and pumping tail. He is Puck-of-the-Woods, but
not, alas! Robin Goodfellow.
Without doubt this Jay takes a conscious delight in mischief-making.
If he sees a company of sparrows feeding in a little open space, he will
slip up quietly, under cover, then plump down suddenly with a screech
which sends the little fellows flying like bursting shrapnel. And the
delighted Jay stands there like a drum-major before a cinematograph.
“Oh, if Mary could see me now!”’ Mr. Mailliard has told us!, most
entertainingly, of some jays which took to teasing the family cats at San
Geronimo. It was not enough for a jay to steal up behind one of the
cats while it was at supper, strike the hapless pussy a smart blow on the
tail, and then, when tabby turned to defense, make off shrieking with
the meat, cleverly snatched up. The cats got onto this, and not only
kept their tails decorously between their legs, but continued to mind
their muttons while the chewing was good. But if ever a jay caught a
cat napping, with its tail partially extended, it approached with eyes
snapping in delight. The situation had to be studied carefully and noise-
lessly, with head cocked first on one side and then upon the other. Fin-
ally, when the most vulnerable spot had been decided upon, the jay
would give the poor tail a vicious peck, and then fly “‘screeching with
joy”’ to the nearest bush.
But if the ‘‘Blue Jay”’ is active in the pursuit of mischief, he knows
also how to become passive and to let Nature disclose her secrets to him.
Especially in nesting time ‘‘watchful waiting’’ becomes the winning
policy for the Blue Jay. Accordingly, he posts himself in some conspic-
uous place, a tree-top or a telephone wire, and looks and looks and looks.
At such times he may be the very picture of innocence, or patience on a
monument, until one is moved to ask him as the traveller did of the
Tennesseean, ‘‘What do you do with yourself all day?’’ And the answer
might be, ‘‘Wa-al, sometimes I sets and thinks, and sometimes I just
sets.’’ But the Blue Jay knows exactly what he is about, and every
little bird of the forest knows that he knows—and shudders.
1“The Condor,” Vol. VI., p. 94, July, 1904.
48
The California Jays
Although such an
industrious creature
when he, or she, isn’t
“‘settin’”’, the jay’s
flight is slow and
labored. Extensive
flights are never
undertaken, and it
would probably be im-
possible for a Cali-
fornia Jay to fly from
the mainland to the
Farallones, for ex-
ample.
The time of year
or the nature of the
season has a good deal
to do with the jay’s
ACENWLENCS, Bin Gl
especially with the
publicity thereof. As
the time of its own
nesting approaches,
the jay falls silent,
and the adroitness
with which this bird
will let himself be for-
gotten, is truly amaz- Fee tee
ing. The birds may THE ‘‘DIGGER”’ PINE IS A CHARACTERISTIC TREE OF THE SOUTHWESTERN
be nesting in your own Coa ANCES
front yard; and now that you think of it, you do recall having seen the
male bird pottering about on two or three occasions. But as for the
California Jay of fame, he is dead. But when the birds have got by
with it, when the youngsters, fullfledged, have joined the piratical push,
and especially after the mid-summer molting season, then look out for
noise! Caution is thrown to the winds, and the world becomes a vast
screeching-ground, made only for jays to practice in.
The ‘‘Blue Jay,” too, is a faithful chronicler of wet and dry. When
the face of nature has become parched, when great heat fissures appear
in the dobe soil, and when the cattle are quarreling feebly for a little
wisp of last year’s straw, the jay, too, falls silent. Dust is a poor lubricant
for even raucous throats, and what villain could exult in such universal
drought?
49
Taken in San Luis Obispo County Pholo by the Author
The California Jays
But oh, how sweet is the smell of returning moisture! and how
grateful the flick of tiny raindrops on the face! All nature is ‘‘swelling
wisibly’’ with sap and satisfaction, and life begins over again in joyous
earnest. The Meadowlarks exult, of course, and the lordly males chuckle,
“T told you so,” to their doubting mates. Bush-Tits lisp with treble
emphasis, and, if it be early spring, the Robins go dashing about excitedly,
packing their Alaska trunks, and bidding their friends good-bye. But it
is the California Jay, the “‘ Blue Jay,’’ whose ear-splitting voice has most
notably revived. We can almost forgive him all his mischief for the
hearty, saucy stridor of his rain-wet tones.
But—but—mischief, thy name is Blue Jay. It falls, now, to the
writer’s unhappy lot to rehearse the sins of the California Jay, and surely,
the recording angel himself has no more laborious task—unless, as we
strongly suspect, the office keeps an extra clerk on this job. To see our
jay munching an acorn, which is, by most accounts, his proper food, one
would extol his exemplary virtue. [One correspondent, indeed, grumbles
because the jay is robbing the hogs thereby; but we'll let that pass. We're
not as hoggish as that yet.| Whack, whack, whack, goes the jay’s intrepid
beak, until Sir Acorn with a groan yields up his substance. Mast, accord-
ing to Beal, forms 38 per cent of this Jay’s food. Acorns are gathered and
hoarded for future use also, not methodically, as in the case of the Cali-
fornia Woodpecker, but still laboriously. Casual hidey holes in bark or
broken limbs or rotting stumps are utilized, with now and then a more
ambitious attempt to fill space, as in the case of Mark Twain’s immortal
bird. If the cache gets wormy, so much the better. So much better, in
fact, that some observers have feigned to believe the birds, with conscious
art, are preparing worm cultures.
Akin to this is their habit, well attested, of burying nuts, especially
almonds, in the earth. Doubtless the bird intends to make inquiry later
of his buried talent; but doubtless, also, this miserly trick has served
Nature’s purpose now and then in producing new trees.
Speaking of almonds, the depredations of the California Jay are such
as to make the orchardist weep. Outlying trees are fairly stripped, and
what the birds cannot eat they carry away. The case does not seem to be
so bad with English walnuts, for although some are eaten at immature
stages, the shell soon becomes too hard to interest the jays. As a pilferer
of fruit, again, the jay has few rivals and no superiors. He is at it early
and late. Nothing daunts him. Shot guns? Who would not run such
risk for a juicy ripe cherry! ‘‘Bing”’ or bang, it is all one to a brave heart.
Mr. Beal, the economic expert, tells of observations made on a small
prune orchard, placed where a small ravine debouched from the wooded
hills. “‘The fruit was just ripening and a continuous line of jays was
50
PR DEAE
r But Ae x dweet is the asell of neturning moisture! stl how
Ce ect the flick of Gay raipiireps on the face! Al nature is ‘
wisibly * with sap atl setistactm, and Wife beyins over again in joyous -
Die Meddemeiarks exutt, of corse, and the lordly males chuckle,
“told Siu oo” ts thie doniieing mates. Bush-Tits lisp with treble
emphasis, and 7 & be early cjg, the Robins go dashing about excitedly,
acking viel? Alaska trunks, and bidding their friends good- bye, But it
je the alilornia fey, the “Blue Jay,” whose ear-splitting voice has most
notably nevived. We bee almost forgive him all his mischieffor the _
heavtix. sieex stridor of his rain-wet. tones.
Es ayeanmeNed, vey same is Blue Jay, It falls, now, to the
“a ne £0 rehesrae 1B sina of the California Jay, and surely,
ree tweet himself has 2, more laborious task—unless, as we:
cet spect, the oflice keeps an extra clerk on this job. To see our
ib Geechee an acorn, which ay most accounts. his proper food, one
iwandd extol his exemplary virtue, (Cre be haguacrns indeed, grumbles -
because the jay is robbing the hogeghed ries bare we'll lee that ¢ pass. We're
not as hoggish as that yet] WF Abc, wherk. wes the jay's intrepid
beak, until Sir Acorm with a gree GloSis ny His sabesance. Mast, aecord-
ing to Beal, Perma 48 percent er et Ss iy ¢ foxxd. Acorns are gathered and
boarded fur hiturt use mbes. slot reetBadically. ax ia the case of the Cale
fornia Woodpecker, but still labomuply. Casual hidey holes in bark or
broken limbs or rotting stumps ¢ wtilized, with now aul then a mare
ambitious attempt to fill space, aSdnthe case of Mark Twain's inimortal ”
bird. If the cache gets wormy. sgim@ich the fetter. So much better, in
fact, that some observers have teift cf to believe the birds, with conscious
att, are preparing worm cultures. aS .
Akin to this is their habit, 2 gttested, of burying nuts, especially
almonds, in the earth. Doubtiesathe bird intends to make inquiry later
ef his buried talent; but doubtless, Salso, this miserly trick has served
Nature's Hurpose now and then a] oducing new trees.
ee of almends, the deppaigtions of the California Jay are such
‘as te make the ofchardist weep. = DiBtlying trees are fairly stripped, and
what the birds cannot eat they carey Sway. The case does not seem te he
so bad with Haghsh wainuis, i “itn some art eaten al nats
stapes. the shell soon heeomes too Bard tut atonal 4 te HENS. oe pi ay
otfruit, agaia, the jey Ras feewe risils and ac sia wae
ged jate. Notiey dears hie, Orhot gues!
yisk fora quley sige cleery) “Bing” or bang, risa oe vee ieeave PEN
We, Weul, thr sctoeds exyest, tells of cheerreiiuns wade on a small
ene orchard. placed where 4 amall ravine debuted fiom the wooded: «
tie “Phe iruit wae Bae reening ad a comtenres ine of jaye was
The California Jays
seen passing from the hills down through the ravine to the orchard, while
a return line, each jay bearing a prune, was flying up the ravine to the
woods, where, probably, the fruit was secreted and left to rot. * * *
Several hours later the jays were still at work.”’
Grain is gleaned in a desultory fashion wherever it is exposed: but
it is only in early spring that real damage is done. Mr. Joseph Mailliard!
observed their depredations closely at San Geronimo in Marin County,
and he concluded that it was the softness of peas or corn in the sprouted
state which appealed so strongly to the jay’s taste. ‘‘I have had acres of
peas that were sown in the end of March, to be cut green for feed when
large enough, practically destroyed by these birds. * * I remem-
ber one spring when a patch of about an acre and a half was sown
with a mixture of peas and oats, and the peas were pulled up as fast as
sprouted, by the jay, so that the crop consisted of oats alone. In this
instance the land was bordered by a growth of trees that made a fine
shelter, to which the birds could retreat when disturbed. I shot over
forty in one afternoon on this occasion, and a good many on succeeding
days, but they soon became so wary that it was impossible to get another
shot after one was killed—and yet the crop was destroyed.”’
On another occasion it was some late grown oats they took to.
“They would dig away with their bills a little earth from the stalk where
it just showed through, get a good grip and pull. If the stalk broke they
would try the next one. When the whole plant came up by the roots
they would jump to the nearest lump of earth and pick the kernel out of
the husk, leaving husk, root and stalk lying on the lump. * *
Shooting one occasionally would cause them all to fly to the nearest
trees, but they would be at it again in a few minutes, with some on watch.”
But your jay is no vegetarian. He annexes bugs and slugs asmatter
of course, indulges a frog or a lizard now and then, and even aspires to
mice and shrews. His long suit, however, is the destruction of eggs and
young birds. This is his real function and raison d’etre. Beginning with
the modest fruit of the hen, or the equally humble quail, he works up
through successive deglutitive stages until he can boast a discriminating
preference for Phainopeplas’ eggs, or Hutton Vireo babies. Black-headed
Grosbeaks’ eggs are a staple in season, while Rufous-crowned Sparrows,
Bell Sparrows, California Purple Finches, and Lutescent Warblers pay
due toll to the epicurean fancy.
But I am getting ahead of my story. Let us consider the case of the
poultry raiser first. Mr. Beal again? is expert witness for the prosecution:
“He is a persistent spy upon domestic fowls, and well knows the meaning
1**The Condor,”’ Vol. II., May, 1900, p. 58.
2"Birds of California in Relation to the Fruit Industry,”’ Part. II., p. 50, U. S. Dept. of Agriculture Biol.
Surv. Bull. No. 34, 1910.
Sl
The California Jays
of the cackle of ahen. A woman whose home was at the mouth of a small
ravine told the writer that one of her hens had a nest under a bush a short
distance up the ravine from the cottage. A jay found this out, and
every day when the hen went on her nest the jay would perch on a nearby
tree. As soon as the cackle of the hen was heard, both woman and bird
rushed to get the egg, but many times the jay reached the nest first and
secured the prize. A man living in the thickly settled outskirts of a
town said that jays came every morning and perched on some large
trees that overhung his barnyard, where the hens had their nests, and
that it was necessary for
some member of the
family to be on the look-
out and start at the first
sound of the hen’s voice
or a jay would get the
egg.
“A still worse trait
of the jay was described
by a young man en-
gaged in raising poultry
on a ranch far up a
canyon near wooded
hills. When his white
leghorn chicks were
small the jays would
attack and kill them by
a few blows of the beak,
and then peck open the
skull and eat the brains.
In spite of all endeavors
to protect the chicks and
shoot the jays his losses
were serious. ”’
If this sort of thing
befalls a closely protect-
ed fowl, and one in which
man has a vital eco-
nomic stake, what hap-
pens, think you, to the
children of the wild
which have no protector? om
My own belief, based on YOUNG CALIFORNIA JAY
we
Photo by
Finley and Bohlman
The California Jays
sound experience, is that within the normal range of the California Jay,
fully one-half of the eggs laid by Passerine birds are destined, either as eggs
or chicks, to find their way into the blue jay’s maw. I know that there
are those, and some of them high in authority, who will sharply challenge
this statement. It is a familiar, and perhaps not altogether discreditable
human fallacy, to refuse to believe ill of any creature. We recall (with
mingled pity and contempt in this case) those who to the last refused to
credit the reports of German atrocities committed during the Great War.
Testimony, concrete evidence, had for them no value. The will to
disbelieve was unconquerable. So it is with some of the friends of the
Blue Jay. Some, indeed, will claim that our photogravure is “faked.”
But the fact is that the California Jay is the most gifted, persistent, and
methodical destroyer of bird-life that Nature has ever evolved. Nest-
robbing is not the exception, the occasional crime of jaydom. ‘The jay,
rather, is a professional thug, and thugee is the rule of the clan. In
this role the jay is feared and hated by every other bird, and he is the
well-deserving butt of excoriations, vituperations, and personal assaults
without number. It is worthy of note in this connection that the jay
is not much of a fighter. He “‘takes punishment,”’ or else flees before
the avenging fury of a Vireo, a Titmouse, or a Pewee. All is, he never
gives up; so that by hook or by crook he almost always manages to
secure the contents of a bird’s nest, if accessible, and if its whereabouts
is known to him.
In this pursuit the jay not only displays a rare ingenuity, but a
satanic fastidiousness as well. He marks the building of a Phainopepla’s
nest and notes its progress from time to time with an approving eye,
but he defers the sacking until the young are of just the right age, say,
two days old. Again, he displays a devilish recklessness, for he, too, is
an apostle of Schrecklichkeit. If the nest is empty, he pulls it to pieces
in disgust; or if it is full, he gobbles the contents and then flings out the
lining in boisterous contempt. One bird in sardonic mood returned to a
Phainopepla’s nest, which he had just robbed (within fifty feet of our
porch roof), and deposited a half-eaten acorn in lieu of babies.
In view of this destructiveness it becomes of interest to estimate the
total burden of taxation which the bird world is called upon to bear
each season. The subject is a difficult one, and the results obtained by
estimate can only represent the order of magnitude of the actual figures.
We will do our “‘figuring”’ in the open, so that if the reader differs in any
of our assumptions, the degree of modification deemed necessary may be
apparent in the result. California has an area of 155,980 square miles.
Although nearly one-fourth of this area is ‘‘Upper Sonoran,’’ and as
such suitable for occupation, I allow only one-tenth, or 15,598 square
OS)
The California Jays
Taken at Los Coltbris Photo by the Author
INQUISITIVE
CALIFORNIA JAY IN PEPPER TREE
miles, as the effective range of A phelocoma
californica. 15,598 square miles is 9,982,
720 acres; and if we allow a range of twenty
acres for each pair of jays, we have a total
population of 499,136 pairs. If we allow
only one set of eggs or nest of birds to each
pair of jays per diem for a period of two
months, we shall be well within the mark
of actuality. Yet that will give us in a
season a total destruction of 29,948,160
nests, or, say, 100,000,000 eggs — in Cali-
fornia alone!
Yet in the face of this destruction,
which, somehow Nature does manage to
cope with, there are those, over-zealous
souls misusing the name of Audubon, who
are disposed to grumble at the infinitesi-
mal toll levied annually in the name of
Science. Why, if every holder of a scien-
tific permit in California — there are
about two hundred of us — were to kill a
single pair of blue jays each season, the
total account with nature would be more
than squared. If two pairs apiece were
killed, we should be benefactors.
But how, you ask, does Nature stand
this terrific strain? Well, there is no
denying that it is terrific. Yet Nature
is wonderfully fertile. We who idolize
the birds are apt to forget that the ‘“‘breed-
ing cycle”’ is, after all, no such sacred or
significant thing as is the rearing of a
human family. The breasts of Nature
are ample, and the sorrows of her children
are short-lived. To offset this annual loss
caused by the jays, other birds have to
nest twice, or three times in a season,
that’s all. Doubtless if the jays and all
other destructive agencies were gradually
removed, a single nesting per season might
come to suffice. But at that it is doubtful whether the sum of avian
happiness would be thereby increased. Viewed dispassionately, there-
IF
The California Jays
fore, the situation is not one for alarm. The jays have been here for along
time, longer than we have even — say for a million years longer. Per-
haps the average adjustment of Nature’s forces has been pretty well
attended to. Certainly we shall not set about the destruction of all
jays. That would assure a violent reaction of some sort, and might
entail infinite hardship. But I agree with Beal! that a reduction of,
say, one-half in the number of the now ubiquitous California Jay might
be a good thing.
If ever an oologist had a clear commission for ‘‘intensive study”’ of
birds’ eggs, it exists in the case of the California Jay. He at least cannot
complain when his nest is robbed. Accordingly, we rejoice at the presence
in our State of some fine series of California Jays’ eggs. Moreover, no
fitter subject for intensive study could be chosen, for the eggs of the
California Jay are abundant, highly variable, and of undeniable beauty.
It is the variability of these eggs which interests us most; for in the
consideration of almost any series two types present themselves, the
“red’’ and the green. This dichromatism of the egg is a prominent
factor in tropical bird life, notably that of India, where it occasionally
becomes ¢vichromatism; but Aphelocoma californica furnishes about the
only instance, certainly the clearest instance (save for the circumpolar
Murre), in America.
The red type is much the rarer. In this the ground color varies from
clear grayish white to the normal green of the prevailing type; while the
markings—fine dots or spots or, rarely, confluent blotches—are of a warm
sepia, bister, verona brown, or Rood’s brown. The ground color of the
green type varies from pale sulphate green to lichen green, and the
markings from deep olive to Lincoln green. In the Museum of Compara-
tive Oology we have a set kindly furnished by Mr. H. W. Carriger, whose
markings are reduced to the palest subdued freckling of pea-green. In
another set, of the red type, fine Mars brown markings of absolute uni-
formity cover the egg; while the eggs of another set are covered as to their
larger ends with an olive-green cloud cap, which leaves the remainder of
the specimen almost free of markings.
The precise significance of this high degree of variability is not
clear to our imperfect knowledge. It is one of those obscure Mendelian
characters whose genesis we cannot trace, but whose continuance along
definite lines of heredity we can confidently predict. We know now, for
example, that these jays breed true to their own type year after year;
that the owners of the coveted red type will present the enterprising
oologist with another set precisely similar, if their nest is found on a
1Op. cit. p. 56.
Wy)
The California Jays
succeeding year. We hazard that this high variability in the egg attests
a certain virility, or adaptability, in the parent stock. Various incipient
strains are held in leash by cross breeding, so that the stock as a whole
has been ‘‘ Americanized.”’
The significance of these interweaving strands of heredity is, however,
strongly hinted at in the glaring exception which occurs on Santa Cruz
Island. The eggs of the Santa Cruz Island Jay, Aphelocoma insularis
(as elsewhere recited), are almost absolutely uniform in coloration.
Presumably a single pair of birds was accidentally stranded on that
island, and their progeny exhibit a single type of egg. Whether the
other characters which the Island Jay displays were ontologically con-
comitant with, or implicit in a certain type of egg, or whether they are,
rather, the product of recent development, we are unable to say; but the
former is at least a tenable hypothesis.
The nests of the California Jay are also highly variable. Not only
do they vary with locality and available material, but their differences
express the individuality of the builders. Some are very compact, rigid
structures. Others are flimsy and ill-kempt summer houses. In general,
one may say, however, that upon a careless mass of crisscrossed sticks, a
deep substantial cup of rootlets, or horsehair, or mingled roots and hair, is
imposed. A phelocoma never uses a mud cup for mid structure, as Cyanocitta
invariably does. The lining varies delightfully, but is largely dependent,
it is only fair to say, upon the breed of horses or cattle affected on the
nearest ranch. So we have nests with white, black, bay, and sorrel
linings, not to mention dapple gray and pinto. One fastidious bird of
my acquaintance, after she had constructed a dubious lining of mottled
material, discovered a coal black steed overtaken by mortality. New
furnishings were ordered forthwith. The old lining was pitched out
bodily, and the coal black substitute installed immediately, to the bird’s
vast satisfaction—and mine.
Taking the country over, nests built in oak trees probably outnumber
all others combined, yet the component members of the chaparral, ceano-
thus, chamissal, and the rest, must do duty in turn, and all species of the
riparian sylva as well. The thick-set clumps of mistletoe are very
hospitable to this bird, and since this occurs on oaks, cottonwoods, and,
occasionally, digger pines, it follows that jayheim is found there also.
As to height, that depends upon persecution. The birds will nest prefer-
ably at moderate heights,—three to ten feet up, in gooseberry, elder,
or willow; but I have taken them at forty feet in oak trees, where the
birds had found it necessary to secure the maximum of local cover.
The sitting bird usually flushes in silence, and with the least possible
demonstration. If the visitor has not satisfied his curiosity or his cupid-
56
The California Jays
ity, however, within five or ten minutes, the bird summons her mate,
and together they proceed to denounce the order of the day. Beside the
ordinary clamor, dzweep or jooreet jooreet, and the alternating klewk klewk
Rilwek klwek (akin to the shook shook shook notes of C. stelleri), the attendant
parents give vent to a soft clucking note, evidently a note of anxiety,
although its quality is such as to belie the implication. These notes are
often uttered with scarcely appreciable intervals, a mere droning pulsation,
made with a closed
beak—indeed, with
scarcely a visible
motion of the
throat. If we men-
tion here alsoa
peculiar waggish
creaking note, a
subdued, toneless
arrrrrrk, we shall
have completed an
inventory of
Aphelocoma’s
major wocall ac=
complishments. If
speech fails, how-
ever, the birds give
further vent to their
indignation in the
peculiar fashion of :
: Taken in Los Angeles County Photo by Donald R. Dickey
assaulting the THE AGE OF INNOCENCE
neighboring trees.
The bark is picked and shattered furiously, or the leaves are plucked off
in whirlwind fashion. As a subsitute for bad language this has much to
recommend it.
It goes without saying that Mr. and Mrs. Aphelocoma are models of
conjugal fidelity, as well as exemplary parents. It always does stump
the righteous to see the wicked observing the rules of the game in these
essential matters, but they do. Mr. A. will proffer his spouse a mangled
Chipping Sparrow chick, dripping with warm blood, with the same
gentle courtesy which you would show in serving a portion of chicken to
your lady love. Blue-jay children, I take it, are unusually well behaved,
even if their tender nurture has left a woodside mourning. And for these
children the jay has caressive and crooning notes which take hold of the
very heart of comfort, notes of fond endearment which have come down
57
The Santa Cruz Jay
the ages unmodified, whether by mouth of saint or mug of sinner. A
truce to thee, then, old boy blue! Sweet villain! No doubt we'll fight
again as we've fought before. And, beyond all peradventure, we'll
confiscate those little eggles of yours as fast as found, be they on topmost
branch or midmost tangle. But meanwhile, and between whiles, here’s
to thee, cunning, agile, inconsistent bird! Wag-in-feathers, Jack-o’-
dreams, rake-hell—Oh, I’ve a whole thesaurus to hurl at thee yet. Here,
take the book! Bang!
No. 8
Santa Cruz Jay
A. O. U. No. 481.1. Aphelocoma insularis Henshaw.
Synonyms.—IsLanp JAy. SANTA Cruz ISLAND JAY.
Description.—Similar to A. californica (of which it is undoubtedly a localized
race), but averaging larger, and with bill much larger (about 45 per cent bulkier, al-
though relatively narrower); coloration richer and deeper; the blue element brighter
(i. e. with less of neutral gray) and deeper (between Rood’s blue and prussian blue);
back and scapulars dusky drab; under tail-coverts pale blue (light cadet-blue); thighs
tinged with blue. Plumage changes as in California Jay. Length 336 (13.25) or
over; wing 135 (5.70); tail 148 (5.83); bill 33 (1.30); depth at nostril 11.4 (.49); tarsus
46.5 (1.83).
Nesting.— Nest: a bulky mass of interlaced twigs of live oak tree, into which is
set neatly and deeply a cup of coiled rootlets with some admixture of grasses and.
rarely, horsehair; placed at moderate heights in live oak or lesser tree. Eggs: 3 or 4,
rarely 5, according to character of the season; in appearance remarkably uniform;
ground color light bluish green (microcline green fading to pale niagara green), lightly
spotted with olive (lincoln green to deep grape-green). Av. size of 140 specimens in
the Museum of Comparative Oology: 29 x 21.3 (1.14 x .84); index 73.7. Range 25.4-
31.7 (1.00-1.25) by 19.6-22.6 (.77-.89). Extreme examples 30.5 x 19.6 (1.20 x .77),
index 64.1; 25.6 x 21.8 (1.01 x .86); index 85.1. Season: March 10-April 10; one brood.
Range.—Santa Cruz Island.
Authorities —Henshaw (Cyanocitta floridana var. californica), Rept. Orn.
Wheeler Surv., 1876, p. 253 (part); Henshaw, Auk, vol. iii., 1886, pp. 452-453 (de-
scription of imsularis); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 379-380
(habits, nests and eggs); Mailliard, J., Condor, vol. ii., 1900, p. 42 (measurements);
Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 68 (general); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna,
no. 12, 1917, pp. 68-69 (general account; synonymy); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool.,
vol. 17, 1918, pp. 418-419, 1 fig. (critical).
“BLUE JAYS” of whatever type have a faculty of making them-
selves very much at home wherever found, whether in the firry depths of
a Siskiyou forest, or in the fervent chaparral of Temecula; but of all
58
A Silhouette
Santa Cruz Island Jay
Print by Fedora E. D. Brown
Negative and cutout by the duthor
The Santa Cruz Jay
recorded spots where the jaybird doth dwell Santa Cruz Island is un-
doubtedly the choicest. Here is Blue Jay paradise. And the Jay of
Santa Cruz is almost an angel? Well, no; but he is somewhat less an
imp. Early isolated from his mainland fellows, by what happy chance
we know not, in an equable climate, with abundant and varied food, and
measurably secure from human persecution, the Santa Cruz Island Jay
has become a more beautiful, a more robust, and a much more demure
bird than its co-type, A. californica. This gem of the islands belongs to
him by unquestioned title, and he has no need to defend his claim by
frantic protest or scurrilous abuse.
This demure quality shows itself to best advantage when his nest
is threatened, for it is then, if ever, that a bird’s soul is tried. Yet I
have spent an hour beside a nestful of jay babies with never a word of
protest from the closely attendant parents, beyond a mellow, and almost
inaudible choop choop. This, and the sound of pecking on tree limbs,
for even this gentle bird employs this familiar corvine device for relieving
Taken on Santa Cruz Island Photo by the Author
A PATIENT MODEL
359
The Santa Cruz Jay
Taken on Santa Cruz Island Photo by the Author
THE SENTINEL
surcharged feelings. But this
jay is capable of vigorous ex-
pression, and the variety and
suggestive affinity of its notes
are worth consideration. There
is, first, the Aphelocomine scold-
ing cry of common use, but this
is fuller, rounder, and much less
harsh. Then there is a djay djay
note which distinctly recalls that
of Cyanocitta stellert. Lastly,
this note is so modified and
accelerated as to strikingly
simulate the rickety rack rack
rack or shack shack shack shack
shack of the Magpies. I know
the Magpie’s voice better than
the baying of a hound, but I
have leaped to my feet and
reached for the glasses at this
jack jack call before realizing
that there are no Magpies on
Santa Cruz Island. And lastly,
again (a preacher’s “‘lastly’’ may
be repeated indefinitely, so why
not an ornithologist’s?), some
sotto voce musings lead me to
believe that the bird is capable
of real song. Exquisite warb-
lings have I heard at a rod’s
remove, so delicate that a Wren’s
outburst would have drowned
them utterly, but so musical
that I had hoped the bird was
only tuning his strings in prepa-
ration for a rhapsody.
All these comparisons lead
one to ask where this most for-
tunate of Blue Jays got his gifts.
He has seen neither magpies nor
crested jays for ages. Are not
these startling variants of song really primal? Is not this the authentic
heir of the original cyano-corvine traits, narrowed and singled elsewhere
60
The Santa Cruz Jay
by reason of excessive competition? Quien sabe? But he is a very
gifted bird; and I warrant he makes a merry hullabaloo after the ban
of silence, which affects all Blue Jays in the nesting season, is lifted.
The Santa Cruz Jay nests early. The last week in March is the
height of the season, counting always by fresh eggs. We have found them
as early as March toth. For nesting sites the California live oaks are
leading favorites, but the birds nest indifferently throughout the scrub
(It is hardly considered proper to speak of ‘“‘chaparral”’ on this island,
because the sheep keep the lesser undergrowths cleaned out) to the tops
of the ranges. Manzanita, Christmas berry, holly-leaf cherry, ironwood,
mountain mahogany, scrub and Wislizenus oaks, and Monterey pines,
all serve as hosts, therefore, with little preference save for shade. Nests,
although bulky, sometimes being as large as a crow’s, are placed at
moderate heights, usually from eight to twelve feet; and are, habitually,
so well made that they may be lifted clean of their setting without injury.
The jays evidently
have assigned beats,
or ranges, of mutual
adjustment, and
they are very loyal
to a chosen locality
at nesting time.
Thus, the nests of
succeeding years
are grouped in a
single tree, or
scattered narrowly
in a small section
of the scrub.
It is in the uni-
form coloring of the
egg that the Santa
Cruz lisilamel lasy
most surely reveals
its isolation, and its
consequent inbreed-
ing. The ground
color of fresh eggs
is a beautiful light
bluish-green 222300
(microcline green), Taken on Santa Cruz Island Photo by the Author
and this is lightly A NESTFUL OF SANTA CRUZ JAYS
OI
The Santa Cruz Jay
Taken on Santa Cruz Island Photo by the Author
“ALMOST AN -ANGEL”
PORTRAIT OF SANTA CRUZ JAY
62
spotted with olive (Lincoln
green to deep grape green).
The green element fades
quickly, however, so that eggs
advanced in incubation are
of a pale Niagara green ground
color. Among a dozen sets
there are no color variants
worth mentioning; nor have |
seen a single example of the
‘“‘red’’ type, which is so pleas-
ing a feature of the mainland
form. In size the eggs of the
Santa Cruz form average
slightly larger than those of
A. californica.
Second sets are prepared
with amazing alacrity if the
first are destroyed. In two
cases we noted complete sets
of five thirteen days after the
first had been taken. This
quick recovery was the more
remarkable in one instance,
because the first set had been
near hatching, and the re-
productive organs of the birds
were, therefore, in a state of
quiescence.
One speaks without apo-
logy of ‘‘collecting”’ jays’ eggs,
for the jay is a master oologist
himself. Doubtless he owes
much of his sleek corpulence
to a diet of Dusky Warblers’
eggs; and as for those pleas-
ing, but not humanly seduc-
tive ovals known as Mourn-
ing Doves’ eggs, they are a
thing almost unknown in jay
territory. The poultry keep-
er, too, at the “big ranch”’
Tae Santa Crus Jay
spotted with olive (Lincoln
green to deep grape green).
The green element fades
quickly, however, so that eges
advanced in incubation are
of a pale Niagara green ground
color. Among a dozen sets
there are no color variants
worth mentioning; nor have I
Seen a single example of the id
“se” type, which is so pleas- ree
safttive of the mainland ;
in size the eggs of the
Cruz form average
‘ larger than those of
we prepared
mee
beige
ne,
nee
¢ eg es ary Sah
by ne a Sorstie
f assane ee Me
payative Goto gy
tohune, Etste re-
oroductive organs of the birds
were, therefore, in a state of
quiescence,
One speaks without apo- + i
logy of “collecting” jays’ eggs, $
for the jay i a master oologist
lumesif. ‘iaubtles: be caves ;
much Gol hits sleek corpalenoe
io. 4 chet o€ ing: Warblers’
nd as for those pleas-
ee t humanby seduc-
ave ovals known as Mourn. —
ing Dowes’ eogs, they are a
Sie oe Hak Patviyte tutier thing almost uaknown in jay
; teres, territory. The poultry keep-
te, too, at the “big ranch”
The Woodhouse Jay
has had to wage unceasing warfare on the Blue Jays — or rather, the
‘“Corbales,’’ for he speaks Italian —in order that El Superintendente
may have hens’ eggs for breakfast.
No. 9
Woodhouse’s Jay
A. O. U. No. 480. Aphelocoma woodhousei (Baird).
Description.—Somewhat similar to A. californica, but pattern of color less
accentuated; gray of back bluer, the underparts darker, the crissum blue; bill longer
and narrower. Adult in fresh plumage: Pileum, hind neck, sides of neck, border of
jugular white patch, wings, upper tail-coverts, and tail, jay-blue; crissum a little
lighter blue (about king’s blue); malar region dark blue; lores and post-ocular area
blackish; a superciliary line of white streaks; throat and chest white with diffused gray
streaks, as in A. californica; upper back and scapulars mouse-gray; rump mingled blue
and bluish gray; remaining underparts light mouse-gray. Bill and feet black; iris
brown. Adult in worn plumage shows reduction of blue, especially on head and cervix,
with attendant revelation of mouse-gray; gray of back browner, with showing of
drab; pattern of underparts nearly effaced, mingled whitish, pale drab, and bluish
dusky. Young birds are like adults in worn plumage with further effacement of blue,
the blue element almost confined to wings and tail. Length of adult male 279.4-304.8
(11.00-12.00); wing 133 (5.24); tail 143 (5.63); bill 28.5 (1.12); depth at nostril 9.4 (.37);
tarsus 41 (1.61). Females smaller.
Recognition Marks.—“‘Jay size;’”’ jay-blue and mouse-gray coloration, without
crest. Dintinguished with A. californica as above.
Nesting.—Much as in A. californica. Eggs not so highly differentiated. A
set in the M. C. O. coll. has a water-green (greenish yellow) ground color with sharp
spots of warm sepia. Av. size 27.7 x 20 (1.09 x .79) (Bendire).
General Range.—‘‘Great Basin and adjacent arid region, breeding in Upper
Sonoran and Transition zones from southeastern Oregon, southern Idaho,, and southern
Wyoming south to southeastern California (east of Sierra Nevada), Arizona, New
Mexico, southeastern Colorado, and western Texas.’”’ (A. O. U. Com.).
Range in California.—‘‘Upper Sonoran zone in the desert mountains of the
eastern part of the State, in the Inyo and Mohave regions. At the eastern base of
the Sierra Nevada, probably as a transient only.’’ (Swarth).
Authorities.—Kennerly (Cyanocitta californica), Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. iv.,
pt. vi., 1856, p. 16; Baird, Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, pp. 585-586 (description
of woodhouset); Fisher, A. K., North Amer. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, p. 69 (distr.); Bendire,
Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 372-374, pl. v., fig. 14 (habits, nest and
eggs); Oberholser, Condor, vol. xix., 1917, pp. 94, 95 (taxonomy); Swarth, Univ. Calif.
Pub. Zool., vol. 17, 1918, pp. 417-418 (descr.; range).
63
The Woodhouse Jay
THE question, much agitated of late, as to whether the Wood-
house Jay may be only a subspecies of the californica type, is one which
cannot be thrashed out in the closet. Differences sufficient to entitle
a bird-type to specific recognition invariably record themselves in voice
and action, as well as in plumage changes. The history of the race must
have been different, and if so, something more than the mere fact of
isolation, or iucipient change, must be noted in order to establish that
historical difference, and to gain for its subject credence as a species.
This raises the very question that I am not qualified to answer, viz.,
Does the Woodhouse Jay differ sufficiently from the California Jay in
voice and action to establish the presumption that there has been a
markedly divergent history for the two species, and that their recently
established occurrence together, upon the east slopes of the Sierras, is
only the accidental meeting of two conquering types moving out from
independent distributional centers long since established? I do not
know, but my very brief acquaintance with woodhouset, in southern
Arizona, namely, leads me to think that it does. It seemed to me, fresh
from association with californica, that the voice of woodhousei was, in
general, notably weaker. And when first heard, the shook shook shook
shook note of the Woodhouse deceived me, momentarily, into entering
Long-crested Jay (Cyanocitta stellert diademata) in my field book. This
note occupies a middle position between the characteristic outcry of our
stellert type and a cry of the californica whose resemblance to that of
stellert | had, for lack of that mediating suggestion, never previously
noted. This does not mean, of course, that Aphelocoma woodhouset
resembles Cyanocitta stellert in form and plumage in any such fashion as
it resembles A. californica; but it does mean, if its significance be allowed,
that A. woodhousei, along with C. stelleri, has preserved a certain ancestral
tradition, or vocal habit, which californica has well nigh forgotten.
These leadings, I take it, are of considerable importance.
The testimony of the egg is less clear, but in comparing a series of
eggs of woodhousei with a like series of californica, | should say that the
preponderance of the evidence favors specific recognition.
For the rest, in his native haunts of Arizona, Nevada, Utah, and
upper southeastern California, Woodhouse’s Jay is the animating spirit
of the chaparral, as the California Jay is elsewhere in the State. Only an
expert would sense differences between them in the hand or out of it.
The Steller Jays
No. 10
Steller’s Jay
No. 10a Blue-fronted Jay
A. O. U. No. 478a. Cyanocitta stelleri frontalis (Ridgway).
Synonyms.—MountTaIn JAy. “BLUE JAY.” “JAYBIRD.”
Description.—Adults: Conspicuously crested. In general, foreparts sooty
black, remaining plumage rich blue. Head including crest and jugulum sooty brown
or sooty black, the longer feathers of crest bluish-tinged; chin and throat heavily
streaked with grayish or bluish white (streaks nearly confluent in fresh plumage);
forehead and forecrown sharply and heavily streaked with light blue and whitish
(olympic blue to light sky-blue); cervix (broadly), upper back, and scapulars, dark
grayish brown (dusky drab to natal brown); rump, upper tail-coverts, outer webs of
primaries, and posterior underparts light blue (pale cerulean blue to light squill-blue);
breast (shading each way) and wing-coverts darker blue (gendarme-blue to dark cadet-
blue); exposed portions of inner primaries, secondaries, and rectrices dark blue (ranging
from dusky greenish blue to grayish violaceous blue); the concealed portions blackish;
the greater wing-coverts faintly, the inner secondaries, tertials, and rectrices sharply
and rather finely barred with black. Bill and feet black; iris brown. Plumage wear
shows chiefly in darkening of throat and in reduction of frontal streaking. Young
birds have the wing colors of adult, with barring merely indicated, but lack the blue
body plumage; foreparts and back sooty brown to dusky drab, changing posteriorly
to plumbeous. Length of adult male 304.8 (12.00) or under; wing 146.5 (5.75); tail
136 (5.35); bill 29.5 (1.16); tarsus 42 (1.65). Females decidedly smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; black crest; blue and sooty black coloration
unmistakable; harsh notes.
Nesting.— Nest: Usually in top of evergreen sapling of thicket, or variously in
evergreen trees; composed exteriorly of small sticks and trash, interiorly of coarse
rootlets, or needles of some long-leafed pine; the whole strengthened by a nearly in-
visible bowl of mud. Eggs: 4, rarely 5; pale bluish green (pale glaucous green, pale
niagara green), spotted sparingly with deep olive or olive-brown (also Saccardo's
umber or sepia). Av. size 30.2 x 22.6 (1.19 x .89); index 74.8. Season: April 20-June
10, according to altitude; one brood. .
Range of Cyanocitta stelleriWestern North America from Alaska south to the
highlands of Central America.
Range of C. s. frontalis (chiefly contained within California)—Common resident
of Transition and Canadian zones throughout the Sierra Nevada and the neighboring
non-arid ranges of northern and southern California, south to the San Pedro Martir
Mountains of Lower California. According to Grinnell, this form occurs in the northern
coast ranges south to Mount Saint Helena and Mount George, and pushes through
to the coast; thus interrupting the range of carbonacea in Sonoma County. In all
probability the birds which occur throughout the inner ranges of Santa Barbara County
are also related to the Sierran type more closely than to that of the humid coastal
belt. Ventures out somewhat upon the lower levels in fall and winter.
Authorities —Gambel (Cyanocorax stelleri), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol.
ill., 1847, p. 201; Feilner, Ann. Rept. Smithsonian Inst. for 1864 (1865), p. 427 (habits);
Ridgway, Amer. Journ. Sci., ser. 3, vol. v., 1873, p. 41 (description of frontalis); Goss,
65
The Steller Jays
Auk, vol. ii., 1885, 217 (nesting in holes); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii.,
1895, pp. 365-367 (habits, nest and eggs); Sampson, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 37 (at
Stockton); Fisher, W. K., Condor, vol. iv., 1902, pp. 41-44 (critical; range); Mailliard,
Condor, vol. x., 1908, p. 134 (range in Sonoma Co.).
No. 10b Coast Jay
A. O. U. No. 478e. Cyanocitta stelleri carbonacea Grinnell.
Synonyms.—GRINNELL’S JAy. “BLUE Jay,” etc.
Description.—Similar to C. s. frontalis, but darker throughout, and with re-
duction of frontal streaking; back and scapulars blackish brown, scarcely different
from chest; be!ly jay-blue; rump king’s blue; size not appreciably different.
Nesting.— Nest: Much as in preceding form, save that coarse rootlets are in-
wardly employed as lining; often placed in deciduous saplings, especially tanbark
oak. Eggs: 2-4, colored as in preceding race. Season: April 20-May 20; one brood
Range of C. s. carbonacea.—Resident in the humid coastal strip from southern
Oregon south to the Santa Lucia Mountains of California. Intergrades with A. fronta-
lis at western bases of inner coastal ranges, but distinctive characters apparently fail
along the coast of northern Sonoma County. Relationships in southern portion of
range not exactly defined.
Authorities.—Newberry, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. vi., pt. 4, 1857, p. 85;
Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 365-367, pl. v. (fig. 10) (habits,
nest and eggs); Mazlliard, J., Condor, vol. ii., 1900, p. 58 and p. 126 (habits); Grinnell,
Condor, vol. ii., 1900, p. 127 (desc. of carbonacea); Fisher, W. K., Condor, vol. iv.,
1902, pp. 41-44, map (crit.; range); Ray, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, pp. 18-19 (habits);
Beal, Biol. Surv. Bull. no. 34, 1910, pp. 47-49 (part) (food). ;
“OFFICER! arrest that bird!’’ It is Mountain Chickadee who
enters complaint against a culprit Screech Owl blinking in the inadequate
shade of a fir sapling. And it is Sergeant Steller Jay, one of the finest,
who makes instant response, leading the attack upon the offender, buffet-
ting, upbraiding, driving him from cover to cover, until his proper hidey-
hole is reached. And Arragh! What excited talk will follow! Corporal
Flicker, who has lumbered up, full of curiosity, must hear all about it;
and so must the Cassin Vireos, who, as everybody knows, are the world’s
great busy-bodies. Officer Jay is in his element, but he moves off import-
antly, before the little fellows are half satisfied, announcing, as he does
so, that he must look after the movements of the Mountain Lion, who is
due on his beat that day; but saying in an aside, “‘It doesn’t do to let
the small fry get too familiar.”’
And it is a true word which says, ‘“‘It takes a thief to catch a thief.”
For, to do him justice, it is usually the Steller Jay who is first to make
discovery and outcry if there is any mischief afoot in the woods. Time
and again we have had our attention called to the presence of deer or
foxes or Horned Owls, which would entirely have escaped our notice
66
The Steller Jays
had it not been for the zealous
proclamations of these birds.
One April morning, in the hinter-
land of Santa Barbara, where
Steller (Blue-fronted) Jays were
not supposed to exist, I stopped
the “Jolly Ellen’? and turned
aside into a dense thicket, where
a crested jay was vociferating.
Arrived at the published spot,
I saw nothing whatever, and sat
down, grumbling, to await possi-
ble developments. Presently,
through a dim, sequestered aisle
in the lower growth I saw a
““bob-cat’’ crouching and _ re-
garding me through narrowed
slits. The jay was right, after
all, and I apologized.
Be sure, also, that the jay
is keeping tab on your own
movements. If he is feeling
hilarious that morning, and he
usually is, he will greet the ex-
plorer boisterously; but if he
“has his doots,’’ he will trail
after silently in the tree-tops,
‘takin’ notes”’ instead. Upon
discovery the Steller Jay sets up
a great outcry and makes off
through the thickets shrieking
lustily. A favorite method of
retreat is to flit up into the lower
branches of a fir tree, and, keep-
ing close to the trunk, to ascend
the succeeding limbs as by a
spiral staircase. The bird, in- — roken in Riverside County Photo by the Author
deed, takes a childish delight in A SILHOUETTE
this mad exercise, and no sooner does he quit one tree-top than he dashes
down to a neighboring tree to run another frenzied gamut. Upon a
less strenuous occasion it is worth while to note the manner of that
descending flight. A considerable space is to be crossed. The jav
67
The Steller Jays
launches himself from the high point of one tree and aims for the lower-
most limb across the interval, so he opens and closes his wings in the most
leisurely manner, giving rise to a series of hitches, or parachute dives.
At the climax of each spread, every feather of the wings and tail is clearly
defined, and the whole makes a very pleasing picture. The purpose of
this halting descent is evidently to afford the bird leisurely glimpses of
the open country below, to give him time to focus accurately upon details
of possible interest.
The notes of the Steller Jay are harsh and expletive to a degree.
Shaack, shaack, shaack is a common (and most exasperating) form; or,
by a little stretch of the imagination one may hear jay, jay, jay. A mellow
klook, klook, klook sometimes varies the rasping imprecations and serves
to remind one that the jay is cousin to the crow. Other and minor notes
there are for the lesser and rarer emotions, and some of these not un-
musical. At his task of counting the rungs of some heavenly ladder of
fir or pine, he will indulge a sort of musical chatter entirely for his own
benefit, singing snatches, as it were, of the latest opera, and then winding
up suddenly with a horse-laugh. Very rarely the bird attempts song,
and does succeed in producing a medley that quite satisfies her that he could
if he would. I have fancied that the Steller Jays of California, frontalis
and carbenacea, have somewhat lighter, clearer voices than those of
stellert typicus in the Northwest. And I am quite sure that carbonacea
has a more extended repertory of cries than the other forms—a subject
which would repay careful investigation.
C. stelleri, like C. cristata of the East, is something of a mimic. The
notes of the Western Redtail (Buteo borealis calurus) and other hawks
are reproduced with especial fidelity. For such an effort thejay conceals
himself in the depths of a large-leafed maple or in a fir thicket, and his
sole object appears to be that of terrorizing the neighboring song-birds.
One such I heard holding forth from a shade tree on the grounds of a
lunatic asylum. Uncanny sounds were, of course, not unknown in that
section, but an exploratory pebble served to unmask the cheat, and
drove forth a very much chastened ‘‘Blue Jay’’ before a company of
applauding Juncoes. On another occasion when I was investigating the
domestic affairs of a pair of ‘‘Long-crested’’ Jays, this self-same cry of
the Redtail was hurled at me, not once but repeatedly, evidently with
the expectation of exciting terror in the oological breast.
The diet of these jays is highly varied. They will “try anything
once,”’ and so, tiring of bugs and slugs, they are not averse to sampling
corn, cabbage leaves, or, best of all, potatoes. While their depredations
do not figure much in the larger scheme of things, their attentions to
pioneer enterprises and modest “‘clearings’’ are a little exasperating. The
68
ay
The Steller Jays
launches himself front the high point of one tree and aims for the lower-
most limb across the interval, so he opens and closes his wings in the most
leisurely manues, giving rise to a series of hitches, or parachute dives: Meaty
At the climax of each saread, every feather of the wings and tail is clearly us
defined. and the whole makes a very pleasing picture. The purpose of — ~
this halting descent is eviclesily io afford the bird leisurely glimpses of
the open country below, t give bien time to focus accurately upon details
of possible interest. ae
The notes «? the Steller fay are harsh and expletive to a degree.
Shaack, stueck. vhoack W @ commen (and most exasperating) form; or,
by a little strond: uf Mie faglantion ome may bear jay, jay, jay. Amellow
bined Soad. Kiackh semetiwes varica the rasping imprecations and serves
i xoting the canes +4 some heavenly ladder of»
» anh of peasad (herter outivety for his own
lagen) peta, ard then winding
Vers nansiy the tid eitentpts song,” :
toy that quite setinive ter (eat he contd z
x Bicter pave of Catania. fromiats
igiiee, clearer vices than those of
stellen: tent: Asi bapa quite sare that carbomecea
Hae o Seed —_ écies then the other fervay--a subject
whirk weak pceoy conte ievestiont ioe.
i’. eeiind tke C. eee a the Laat. is somerhimg of a mimic. The
me
Liseee ee. Spee vat!
ge shay with a
axial Stones CSET Sr Ss
Whe eas. 1} Bow
ei gertekae
3
dave foeth a very much chacione
anism Say Tenoors. On antl
Geechetic slats of a pair ct“ Damigteaiee)
te Beha wine buried xt
; Ve me hie Fhe % a a) mi
Tae eek iB AO PE ES: - SSS
5 Reade er othaat ing the aN
4, Tht atin ey ol
fu, weeny wey
S.. Seatr < Gee
wil: try anything "7
“ gee mat averse to sampling’
ws. hile their depredations ~
~ “age, their attentions to
ave = Hitle exasperating. The
tae ee BN
ee Ole pipe A
‘4
Rie Ras REE
The Steller Jays
birds have observed the tedious operations of the gardener in planting,
and know precisely where the coveted tubers lie. Bright and early the
following morning they slip to the edge of the clearing, post one of their
number as lookout, then silently deploy upon their ghoulish task. If
they weary of potatoes, sprouting peas or corn will do. Or perhaps there
may be something interesting at the base of this young tomato plant.
And when the irate farmer appears upon the scene, the marauders retire
to the forest shrieking with laughter at the discomfitted swain. Ay! there’s
the rub! We may endure injury but not insult. Bang! Bang!
As a connois-
seur of birds’ eggs,
too, the Steller Jay
enjoys a bad emi-
nence. The suffer-
ers in this case are
chiefly the lesser
song birds; but no
eggs whatever are
exempt from his
covetous glance, if
left unguarded.
The jay has be-
come especially
proficient in the
discovery and sack-
ing of Bush-tits’
nests. Mr. D. E.
Brown assures me
that he has found
as high as fifteen
nests of this bird in
a single swamp, all
gutted by jays.
When it is remem-
bered that these
busy little workers
make one of the
handsomest nests in
the world, the
shame of this piracy
ge ts u pon t h e Taken in Fresno County Photo by the Author
nerves. The in- A HAUNT OF THE LONG-CRESTED JAY
69
The Gray Jays
vestigation of Tits’ nests has something of the fascination of the gaming
table for the jay, since he never knows what the wonder-pouches may
contain until he has ripped a hole in the side and inserted a piratical beak.
It is well known that the gentleman burglar takes a conscientious
pride in the safety and welfare of his own home. Nothing shall molest
his dear ones. The jay becomes secretive and silent as the time for
nest-building approaches. The nest is well concealed in a dense thicket
of fir saplings, or else set at various heights in the larger fir trees. If
one but looks at it before the complement of eggs is laid, the locality is
deserted forthwith. If, however, the enterprise is irretrievably launched,
the birds take care not to be seen in the vicinity of their nest, unless they
are certain of its discovery, in which case they call heaven and earth
to witness that the man is a monster of iniquity, and that he is plotting
against the innocent. The youngsters, too, quickly learn to assume the
attitude of affronted innocence. At an age when most bird-babies would
make a silent get-away under cover of the parental defense, young Steller
Jays will turn to and berate the stranger in common with their parents,
with all the virtuous zeal of ordained elders.
Mischief and the ‘‘ Blue Jay’’ aresynonymous. Alert, restless, saucy,
inquisitive, and prov oking, yet always interesting, this handsome brigand
keeps his human critics in a perpetual see-saw between wrath and admir-
ation. Asa sprightly piece of Nature, the Steller Jay is an unqualified
success. As the hero-subject of a guessing contest he is without a peer,
for one never knows what he is doing until he has done it, and none may
predict what he will do next.
No. 11
Oregon Jay
A. O. U. No. 485. Perisoreus obscurus obscurus Ridgway.
Synonyms.—(Properly) OREGON GRay JAY or CoasTAL GRAy Jay. ‘CAMP
RosBerR.”’ ‘‘MeatT Birp.”” ‘‘DEER HUNTER.”
Description.—Adults: In general, upperparts deep brownish gray (nearest
chaetura drab); underparts white tinged with brownish gray; forehead and nasal
plumules most nearly clear white; cheeks, auriculars, and obscure band around neck,
white, more or less tinged with brownish; crown and nape sooty brown, nearly black;
feathers of back with white shafts more or less exposed; wings and tail drab gray (scarce-
ly different from back), the former with narrow whitish tips on middle and greater
coverts; tail tipped with paler gray. Bill and feet black; iris brown. Young birds
are nearly uniform sooty brown, lightening below. Length about 254 (10.00); wing
135 (5.30); tail 127 (5.00); bill 18 (.71); tarsus 33 (1.30).
7O
The Gray Jays
OREGON JAY
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; brownish gray coloration; familiar, fearless
ways. Not certainly distinguishable afield from the next form.
Nesting.— Nest: a bulky, compacted structure of twigs, plant-fibers, and tree-
moss, with warm lining of fine mosses and feathers, placed well up in fir tree. Eggs:
4 or 5; light gray or pale greenish gray, spotted with grayish brown and vinaceous gray.
Av. size 26.4 x 20 (1.04 x .79). Season: February-April: one brood.
Range of Perisoreus obscurus.—British Columbia and the Pacific Coast States
south to northern California.
Range in California.—Resident in the northwest humid coastal strip south to
Mendocino, Mendocino County.
Authorities.—Townsend, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. x., 1887, p. 212 (part);
Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 394-396 (part); Heller, Condor, vol.
iv., 1902, p. 46 (in southern Mendocino Co.); Oberholser, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol.
XXx., 1917, pp. 185-187 (critical; range); Swarth, Condor, vol. xx., 1918, pp. 83-84 (sys-
tematic; range).
Wet
The Gray Jays
No. 11a Gray Jay
A. O. U. No. 485a. Perisoreus obscurus griseus Ridgway.
Synonyms.—As in preceding form.
Description.—‘‘Similar to P. 0. obscurus, but decidedly larger (except feet),
and coloration much grayer; back, etc., deep mouse-gray, instead of brown, remiges
and tail between neutral gray and smoke-gray, instead of drab-gray, and under parts
grayish white instead of brownish white.’. (Ridgway). Length (av. of three northern
specimens): 283.5 (11.16); wing 147.6 (5.82); tail 139.1 (5.48): bill 19 (.75); tarsus 31.7
(1.25).
Range of P. o. griseus —Interior of southern British Columbia and the central
and eastern mountain systems of Washington, Oregon, and northern California.
Range in California.—Sparingly resident in the Boreal zone of northern Cali-
fornia east of the humid coastal strip, south to Mt. Lassen.
Authorities.—Newberry (Perisoreus canadensis), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol.
vi., pt. iv., 1857, pp. 85-86; Felner, Ann. Rep. Smithsonian Inst., for 1864 (1865), pp.
427-428 (habits); Henshaw, Rep. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1879, p. 308: (crit.; habits);
Townsend, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. x., 1887, pp. 211-212 (part) (habits); Oberholser,
Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xxx., 1917, pp. 185-187 (crit.; range); Swarth, Condor,
vol. xx., 1918, pp. 83-84 (systematic; range).
Photo by the Author
A NEAR ASPECT OF MOUNT SHASTA
GRAY JAYS ARE FOUND THROUGHOUT THIS BELT OF SHASTA FIRS
V2.
The Gray Jays
THE ‘‘Camp-Robber”’ appears promptly as interested neighbor and
smell-feast before all who invade the precincts of the mountains. The
hunter, the trapper, the prospector, the timber cruiser, the mere camper-
out, all know him,
and they speak well
or ill of him accord-
ing to their kind.
The Gray Jay ap-
pears to have for-
sworn the craftiness
of his race, and he
wins by an exhibi-
tion of artless sim-
plicity, rather than
by wiles. The bird
is mildly curious and
hungry — oh, very
hungry — but this
is Arcadia, and the
shepherd draws
nigh with never a
doubt of his wel-
come. There is a
childlike insouci-
ance about the
way in which the
bird annexes a piece
of frizzled bacon,
humbly intended
i Or icine im Ain .
Se SOO; aGidusy.ou
say? Why, what
do you mean?
CangtelBhayemiterae
And the bird re-
tires before a fly-
ing chip, baffled and
injured by such a
manifest token of
Taken in Humboldt County Photo by the Author
IN THE REDWOODS
OREGON JAYS ARE AMONG THE FEW BIRDS TO BE FOUND IN THE DEPTHS OF THESE FORESTS
ill-breeding. He complains mildly to his fellows. They discuss the
question in gentle whews; generously conclude you didn’t mean it, and
return unabashed to the quest.
7S
The Gray Jays
Hunger is the chief characteristic of these docile birds, and no poten-
tial food is refused, nuts, acorns, insects, berries, or even, as a last resort,
the buds of trees. Meat of any sort has an especial attraction to them;
and they are the despair of the trapper because of their propensity for
stealing bait. The hunter knows them for arch sycophants, and he
is occasionally able to trace a wounded deer, or to locate a carcass by the
movements of these expectant heirs. Says Mr. A.W. Anthony: ‘‘ While
dressing deer in the thick timber I have been almost covered with Jays
flying down from the neighboring trees. They would settle on my back,
head, or shoulders, tugging and pulling at each loose shred of my coat
until one would think that their only object was to help me in all ways
possible.”’
In the higher
latitudes ‘‘ Whisky
Jack,” in spite of
carefully secreted
stores, often be-
comes very emaci-
ated in winter, a
mere bunch of bones
and feathers, no
heavier than a Red-
poll. While the Jays
of our kindlier
clime do not feel
so keenly the belly
pinch of winter,
they have the same
thrifty habits as
their northern kin-
folk. Food is never refused, and a well-stuffed specimen will still carry
grub from camp and secrete it in bark-crevice or hollow, against the
unknown hour of need.
, Though not a noisy bird after the fashion of A phelocoma or Cyano-
citta, the Gray Jay, nevertheless, gives rise to a considerable variety of
sounds. Besides the soft cooing whee ew, with which the birds follow
each other’s movements, there is a drawling petulant squeal, curiously
hawk-like in quality. By a great stretch of the imagination this could
be rendered Jaaay, jaaay. On other occasions the resemblance to the
quee e eer of the Western Redtail is inescapable. Then there is a “‘ winding-
up note,’ not unlike the squeak of the Golden Eagle; a krowk krowk
krowk of alarm; and the kooree kooree kroo kroo kroo kroo of more extended
74
A BACHELOR'S PET
The Cowbirds
flight. And to these a low, rambling song, delivered sotto voce,—your
jay of whatever species is always modestly “‘practicing’’—and you have
quite an extended repertory.
Although common enough on Mt. Shasta, and of regular occurrence
through the heavy forests of the northwestern counties, the eggs of
Perisoreus jays have only once been reported from this State. The bird
builds a very substantial nest of twigs, grasses, plant-fiber, and mosses,
without mud, and it provides a heavy lining of soft, gray mosses for the
gray-green eggs. The nest is placed, usually, in a fir sapling, at a
height ranging from ten to eighty feet, and so well concealed that its
discovery is well nigh impossible, save for the visits of the bird. Only
one brood is reared in a season, and family groups hunt independently
of their more distant kinsmen until late midsummer.
No. 12
Cowbird
No. 12a Nevada Cowbird
A. O. U. No. 495 part. Molothrus ater artemisiz Grinnell.
Description.—Adult male: Head, neck, and throat broadly light seal-brown, or
bone-brown; remaining plumage black with metallic greenish or bluish reflections.
Bill, feet, and legs black; iris brown. Adult female: General color fuscous above and
drab below, the feathers chiefly with obscurely darker centers, or shaft-streaks, and
occasionally show ng faint greenish reflections; head paler; throat drabby white, un-
marked. Very old birds are darker, with more iridescence and less streaking.
Immature birds resemble adult female, but are lighter and more varied; above brownish
gray (nearly hair brown), everywhere edged with grayish white; below grayish, heavily
streaked everywhere (save on throat), and especially on breast, with fuscous, and
varied by brownish buffy edgings. The young males present a striking appearance
when they are assuming the adult black, on the instalment plan, by chunks and blotches.
Length 190.5-203.2 (7.50-8.00). Average of 11 males from Humboldt County, Nevada,
(after Grinnell): wing 113.5 (4.55); tail 79.4 (3.13); bill 18.3 (.72); depth of bill at base
10.3 (.40); tarsus 27.7 (1.09). Females average decidedly less.
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size; brown head and black body of male; blended
brown of female. Requires distinction from the resident Brewer Blackbird (Euphagus
cyanocephalus), from which it differs in its much smaller size, brown instead of vio-
laceous head of male; shorter, more turgid beak; female with much lighter throat; and
posterior parts not glossy. Young Cowbirds bear a superficial resemblance to female
Redwings (A gelaius sp.), but are smaller and less sharply streaked. Close attendance
upon cattle distinctive.
Nesting.—Parasitic: the Cowbird invariably deposits her eggs in the nests of
other birds. Eggs: 1 or 2, rarely 3 or 4, with a single hostess; white or grayish white,
sprinkled or spotted with grayish brown (Natal brown to fuscous, or buffy brown to
drab), if finely, then almost uniformly, if more coarsely, then sharply, and with tend-
ihe)
The Cowbirds
ency to cloud capping. Av. size (of ater ater): 21.5 x 16.4 (.84 x .65). Season: In-
determinable, April to July.
Range of Molothrus ater—North America from about Latitude 60° in west
central Canada south over the Mexican plateau.
Range of M. a. artemisie.—Presumably the Great Basin region north into
British Columbia. Breeds chiefly in the Upper Sonoran zone and winters south into
Mexico.
Distribution in California.x—Summer resident, not common, in the plateau
region east of the Sierras, south perhaps to Death Valley (A. K. Fisher [Grinnell])
and Yermo on the Mohave desert (Lamb), although region of intergradation with
obscurus undefined. Casual (?) west of the Sierras (Farallon Ids., June 2, 1911).
Authorities.—Gambel (Molothrus pecoris), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii.,
1847, p. 204;Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., vol. 5, 1909, pp. 276-281, 2 figs. (descrip-
tion of artemisiae; critical); Dawson, Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 186 (occurrence on
Farallons); Oberholser, Auk, vol. xxxiv., 1917, pp. 327-328 (critical; range).
No. 12b Dwarf Cowbird
A. O. U. No. 495a. Molothrus ater obscurus (Gmelin).
Description.—Similar to M. a. artemisie, but much smaller; the female slightly
paler. Av. of 11 males (after Grinnell): wing 100.1 (3.94); tail 68.4 (2.69); bill 16.5
(.65); depth at base 9.2 (.36); tarsus 24.1 (.95)
Nesting.—As in preceding form. Eggs: decidedly smaller, Av. of 40 eggs from
Arizona in the M.C. O. coll. 20x 14.5 (.76 x .57). Extremes: 17.5-20.8 by 13.5-15.5
(.69-.82 by .53-.61).
Range of M. a. obscurus—The southwestern United States from southern Texas
west to southern California, and south in Mexico to Colima and Jalisco.
Distribution in California.—Summer resident in southern California and in
the Tulare basin; commonly along the Colorado River and on the Colorado desert,
north to Independence (Grinnell), Bakersfield (Grinnell), Buena Vista Lake (Mailliard),
Weldon (Grinnell), and Fresno (Tyler, although possibly not breeding), and more
sparingly in the San Diego district, west at least to Santa Barbara (Dawson, several
occurrences). Winters in the Colorado River valley and on the Colorado desert, west
at least to Mecca (January 30 and February 4, 1913; also van Rossem).
Authorities.—Cooper (Molothrus pecoris), Orn. Calif., 1870, pp. 257-260 (egg
in Chat nest in Colorado Valley); Bendire, Rept. U. S. National Mus. for 1893 (1895),
Pp- 597-599 (general account); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., vol. 5, 1909, pp. 278-
281; zbid., vol. 12, 1914, pp. 157-160 (critical; range); Law, Condor, vol. xii., 1910, p. 174
(in Los Angeles Co.; habits); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, pp. 67-68 (in
Fresno district); Dawson, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 27 (at Santa Barbara); Ober-
holser, Auk, vol. xxxiv., 1917,pp. 327, 328 (crit.; range); Hanna, Condor, vol. xx., 1918,
pp. 211-212 (nests parasitized).
IT MAY be urged with some show of justice that every bird-person
deserves a sympathetic biographer. Even criminals on trial for their
lives are entitled to legal defense. Well, then, let who will be defender.
I will be prosecuting attorney. ‘‘J’accuse.’’ The prisoner at the bar
76
The Cowbirds
is a demirep, a ne’er-do-weel, a slattern, a shirk, a harpy, a traitor, an
anarchist. Destitute of all natural affection, she cares neither for the
wrongs of others nor for the undermined pillars of her own virtue. She
is the unchaste mother of a race gone wrong, an enemy of bird-society, a
blight upon the flower of Progress. Despised and hated by her fellow
birds, harried and anathematized by her victims, this avian marplot
lives only by stealth and by the secret practice of violence. All that
may possibly be urged on behalf of this culprit is that she is the victim
of an unfortunate heredity. Such a defense is in itself an accusation.
The Cowbird stock is indeed polluted: of haphazard and unknown pater-
nity, conceived in an infamy of indifference, she was dumped at birth
into a strange cradle, and left to make shift as best she might, an un-
blessed and pitiless bastard. Nourished by uncomprehending or reluctant
strangers, and winning a place in their affections solely at the cost of the
lives of their own innocent babes, this foundling first accepts their un-
tiring ministrations, and then escapes, an alien ingrate, to join herself to
the beasts of the field. What wonder, then, that at maturity she wel-
comes the pirate band, joins them in their obscene revels, and perpetuates,
in turn, her dissolute race. Out upon her!
Of course we are ‘‘anthropomorphizing’’; but the case is really
as bad as that. Taken on any plane of life and stated in its lowest
terms, parasitism is mutiny, a breaking down of life’s wholesome and
necessary disciplines, a surrender of life’s ends. A parasite is a failure.
Evolution is at a standstill. Wherever parasitism succeeds, nature has
to begin over again.
But even degeneracy may be picturesque,—of interest, that is, when
viewed dispassionately as a phenomenon instead of a moral issue. Hear,
then, with what tolerance you may, the story of a changeling:
Beginning, say, in mid-August, before the bird has ever seen another
of its own kind, we find it closely attached to some group of horses or
cows, following them about slavishly, now being nosed out of the way
as the animals feed, or evading as by instinct the misplaced hoof. Perhaps
it is oftenest the foregathering of the animals which leads the birds them-
selves together. At any rate, the corral soon boasts a little company of
these dun-colored youngsters with light undervests, and, though they
early learn to come and go freely, the association with horses and cattle
is lifelong. In all probability the ‘‘Cowbird”’ once followed the buffalo
in the same fashion, and was, prior to the introduction of cattle by Euro-
peans in the 16th Century, the Buffalobird.
In September the males exchange the inconspicuous livery of youth
for the rich iridescent black of adult plumage; and they do this on the
instalment plan, by chunks and blotches, looking meanwhile like rag-
a
The Cowbirds
pickers tricked out in cast-off finery. The flocks increase in size as the
season advances, and may reach into the thousands in regions where
the species is abundant. The birds mingle more or less freely with
Redwings, and occasionally with Brewer Blackbirds.
In feeding upon the ground about corrals the Cowbirds are quickly
actuated by the flock impulse, rising as one bird at a fancied alarm.
After alighting upon a fence or upon the unprotesting backs of cattle,
they hop down again one by one as confidence becomes established.
They greet each other always with quivering bodies and uptilted tails,
and that upon the most trivial occasions. Inasmuch as this is the accept-
ted ‘‘sex call,’’ reserved for rare occasions by all proper birds, one cannot
escape the conviction that these Cowbirds are lewd fellows, habituated
to the very attitudes of vice.
In winter there is a general retirement into Mexico, although a few
of the dwarf variety linger through the season upon the Colorado Desert
and along the Colorado River. In February or March, according to
altitude, there is a return movement of Cowbirds, oftenest in company
with other blackbirds. But if the main flock halts for refreshments and
discussion en route, a group of these rowdies will hunt up some disreputable
female of their own kind, and make tipsy and insulting advances to her
along some horizontal limb or fence rail. Taking a position about a
foot away from the coy drab, the male will make two or three accelerating
hops toward her, then stop suddenly, allowing the impulse of motion to
tilt him violently forward and throw his tail up perpendicularly, while
at the same moment he spews out the disgusting notes which voice his
passion. As the mating season advances the male birds become very
active, whether in the untiring pursuit of frailty or in a sympathetic
search for prospective foundling homes which they may recommend to
their paramours. At such times they move about singly, or by twos or
threes, and post prominently in treetops. Any unusual noise, especially a
slight one, attracts their attention; and if a human has business in the
woodland his movements are sure to be spied upon from time to time
by alert Cowbirds. Often the detective announces his discovery by a
gurgling squeaky song, and he is quite sure to utter this once or twice just
before quitting his observation post.
Of the mating, Chapman says: ‘‘They build no nest, and the
females, lacking every moral instinct, leave their companions only long
enough to deposit their eggs in the nests of other and smaller birds. I
can imagine no sight more strongly suggestive of a thoroughly despicable
nature than a female Cowbird sneaking through the trees and bushes in
search of a victim upon whom to shift the duties of motherhood.”’
The egg, thus surreptitiously placed in another bird’s nest, hatches
78
The Cowbirds
in ten or eleven days, usually, therefore, two or three days before those
of the foster mother, and the infant Cowbird thus gains an advantage
which he is not slow to improve. His loud clamoring for food often drives
the old birds to abandon the task of incubation; or if the other eggs are
allowed to remain until hatched, the uncouth stranger manages to usurp
attention and food supplies, and not infrequently to override or stifle the
other occupants of the nest, so that their dead bodies are by-and-by
removed to make room for his hog-
ship. It is asserted by some that in
the absence of the foster parents the
young thug forcibly ejects the right-
ful heirs from the nest, after the
fashion of the Old World Cuckoos.
I once found a nest which contained
only a lusty Cowbird, while three
proper fledglings clung to the shrub-
bery below, and one lay dead upon
the ground.
When the misplaced tenderness
of foster parents has done its utmost
for the young upstart, he joins him-
self to some precious crew of his own
blood, and the cycle of a changeling
is complete.
There are endless details and
variations to be noted in this exhibi-
tion of parasitism, here so hastily
reviewed. Much remains yet to be
learned by methodical observation,
particularly of the western varieties. THIS EGG OF THE DWARF COWBIRD RESTS ON THE SKIRTS
Especially interesting is the psycho- OF A LUCY WARBLER’S NEST. THE CRANNY
logical reaction of the various victims Oe a Se Le aga
<i 3 TO ACCOMMODATE THE INTERLOPER
to the infamous imposition practiced
or intended. Major Bendire has listed! ninety species of involuntary
hosts of the better known M. ater, and twenty-five for M. a. obscurus.
Of these the most conspicuous victims upon our borders are the Arizona
Least Vireo (Vireo belli arizonae), Lucy’s Warbler (Vermivora luciae),
and the Western Chat (Icteria virens longicauda) It is rare to find
Least Vireos’ nests which have not been victimized, and the destruction
caused to this one species is enormous. Sometimes the birds cease
laying upon the advent of the foreign egg, and sometimes they desert
Taken in Arizona Photo by the Author
A DOORSTEP CHILD
1“The Cowbird’’ by Charles Bendire, Rep. of National Museum, 1893 (pub. 1895), p. 594-5.
79
The Cowbirds
outright. Often their eggs are claw-marked by the careless intruder,
and occasionally, if time allows, the rightful eggs are pitched out of the
nest by the miscreant Cowbird. One pair of Least Vireos which built
a nest near our camp on the Santa Cruz River (in Arizona) seemed
especially apprehensive of the visits of the Dwarf Cowbird, and showed
notable valor in driving off from time to time a snooping female who
spied upon their progress. Rousing one morning to a sudden outcry,
I arrived upon the scene in time to see an irate Vireo drag a Cowbird
from the nest and hold her for a dramatic moment suspended in mid-
air — until the Vireo’s strength gave out and both fell struggling to
the ground. But in spite of this instant and summary punishment,
the Cowbird had accomplished her mission. [She had and I did.]
In a Cowbird country most efforts of the smaller birds are foredoomed
to failure, for the miscreant exhibits a diabolical cunning not alone in
finding nests, but in judging the proper time for deposition. Several
‘“‘prospects’’ are kept under review at once, and inasmuch as the Cowbird
matures her egg only every second or third day, she has little difficulty in
finding fresh victims. Occasionally, however, two or three eggs are
laid in the same nest by one individual, as may readily be determined
by the close resemblance of eggs which in the species are wont to differ
widely.
Eggs of the Dwarf Cowbird are notably smaller, and average lighter
in coloration than those of the eastern form. They display also a higher
degree of variation.
And while we are speaking of contrasts, it is well to note that the
song of the western races is distinctly different from that of M. ater.
The notes of the latter are described as a ‘‘shrill hissing squeak in two
tones, with an interval of a descending third, uttered with great effort
and apparent nausea.’’ The notes of obscurus, on the other hand, I
find to be rather sweet and not unattractive, glug, glug, zzt—a rich, deep
gurgle, followed by an absurd squeak. In fact, care must be taken to
distinguish them from utterances of the Brewer Blackbird; and there is
no question that the birds themselves often escape attention because of
a superficial resemblance to the more familiar Brewer.
In food habits the Cowbird is beneficial rather than otherwise.
While it consumes some grain, it does no damage to fruit, and its con-
sumption of weed-seed and injurious insects would entitle it to grateful
protection were it not for the fact that its very existence involves the
loss of three or four individuals of some other species quite as likely to be
beneficial. Or if we could forget the blood-stained infancy, we should
have to recall that an adult female Cowbird, functioning twice in a
season with an average of six eggs to a ‘‘set,’’ and reproducing for six
80
The Rusty Blackbird
or eight years, will account for the loss of from sixty to one hundred
broods of song-birds in a lifetime. It is with just alarm, therefore, that
we note the steady increase of this parasitic species in California. The
older authorities did not even mention the presence of M. a. obscurus in
California, although it was perfectly well known from Arizona. It is
not listed in Grinnell’s first Check-List, because occurrences in the south-
eastern part of the State were attributed to M. a. ater. Dr. Grinnelll,
however, found the Dwarf Cowbird abundant in the Colorado River
Valley in the spring of 1910. Records are now coming in from San Diego,
from Los Angeles County, and from the San Joaquin Valley. I have seen
it three times at Santa Barbara, and confidently expect to find it both in
San Luis Obispo and Monterey Counties at no distant date.
No. 13
Rusty Blackbird
A. O. U. No. 509. Euphagus carolinus (Muller).
Synonym.—Ruwusty GRACKLE.
Description.—Aduli male in breeding plumage: Uniform glossy black with steel-
blue reflections. Bill and feet black; iris pale straw. At other seasons the plumage
bears rich brown, or “‘rusty’’ (mars brown to chestnut) tips above, especially anteriorly,
and rufescent or buffy (cinnamon buff to pinkish buff) tips below in varying propor-
tions; also a vague light line overeye. Adult female in breeding season: Above blackish
slate, shading to deep neutral gray on underparts; faintly glossed above, and with
some edging of rusty; vaguely lighter-edged below. At other seasons the general cast
of plumage is lighter, and the overlap of rusty or buffy is similar to that of the male.
Adult male length 228.6-243.8 (9.00-9.60); wing 115 (4.53); tail 90 (3.54); bill 18.8
(.74); tarsus 30 (1.18). Female smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Towhee to robin size. Male entirely black, not so
glossy as in FE. c. cyanocephalus; female more slaty. Rusty markings usually distinctive
during migrations; high-pitched whistling notes.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: of sticks and coarse grasses,
held together with mud, lined with rootlets or fine green grasses, placed in bushes or
high in coniferous trees. Eggs: 4 to 7; grayish or pale green, speckled and mottled
with chocolate and other reddish or grayish browns, very rarely marked with hairlines
or scrolls. Av. size, 24.9 x 18.3 (.98 x .72). Season: May, June; one or two broods.
General Range.—FEastern and northern North America. Breeds from the
Kowak River in Alaska south to southern Alaska, and so in a broad belt in an east-
southeasterly direction which eventually involves northern New York and the northern
New England States. Winters chiefly east of the Mississippi River, from about the
1Pacific Coast Avifauna, No. 3, June 25, 1902.
ST
The Rusty Blackbird
Fortieth Parallel south to the Gulf coast; west over the Great Plains in migrations;
casually to Colorado, Montana, etc.; accidental in California, Lower California, and in
Greenland.
Occurrence in California.—A casual winter visitor. Two records: Amador
County by H. B. Kaeding, Dec. 15, 1895; and San Clemente Island by C. B. Linton,
Nov. 20, 1908.
Authorities.—Mailliard, J., Condor, vol. vi., 1904, p. 16 (in Amador Co.);
Linton, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 194 (on San Clemente Island); Grinnell, Pac. Coast
Avifauna, no. II, I915, p. 105.
ANY migrant northern species which nests as far west as Alaska
may be expected to miss now and then the arbitrary east-and-west route
followed by the returning hosts of his compeers, and to straggle down
into California instead. Only two such instances have been recorded in
the case of this species; but there is always a delightful possibility before
us. We have no details regarding the specimen taken by Mr. H. B.
Kaeding! in Amador County (Dec. 15, 1895); but the one taken by C. B.
Linton? on San Clemente Island (Nov. 20,1908) was busily engaged in
catching insects in the kelp along the beach. One would sooner expect
a considerable company of these very sociable birds to go astray; and when
they do, they will be found flocking by themselves, as they do in the
East.
In their more familiar haunts, it is in some tiny glade in the heart of
the budding forest that one comes upon a company of these sojourners,
feeding, perhaps, upon the ground. They walk about with easy grace,
or shift by little flights, males and females flocking together, and all
engaged in a subdued but voluble chatter. An instant hush follows the
signal of alarm, and the flock rises silently to the neighboring treetops,
or passes to a distant spot, where their conversation is gradually resumed.
As the alarm decreases the birds come dropping down, one by one, until
confidence is completely restored.
“The notes of the Rusty Blackbird consist of a bubbling medley
of l’s and r’s, through which clear, high-pitched whistles or squeaks are
interspersed at will. Gorwhillier conveys some idea of the liquid quality
of the former, and expresses also in part the effort which is required to
produce them. The effect of a full chorus is really quite pleasing. If
not ‘music’, it is at least among the less disagreeable noises. ’’3
1Reported by Joseph Mailliard, The Condor, Vol. VI., Jan. 1914, p. 16.
2The Condor, Vol. XI., Nov. 1909, p. 194.
3“The Birds of Ohio.”
$2
The Brewer Blackbird
No. 14
Brewer’s Blackbird
A. O. U. No. 510 part. Euphagus cyanocephalus cyanocephalus (Wagler).
Description.—Adult male: Glossy black with steel-blue and violet reflections on
head; with fainter, greenish, steel blue, and bronzy reflections elsewhere. Bill and feet
black; iris pale lemon-yellow or light cream. Immature male: Like adult male, but
feathers of foreparts margined with grayish brown, lightly on throat and chest, broadly
on cervix and back. Adult female: Foreparts (head and neck all around, upper back
and chest) grayish brown (hair-brown to drab), the throat lighter, light drab; shading
posteriorly into mingled drab and black of remaining plumage; the blacks with some
metallic reflections, chiefly green and violet. Bill and feet as in male; but iris brown.
Immature females and young birds of both sexes resemble adult female. Length about
254 (10.00). Av. of 8 males from Rocky Mountain section (Grinnell): wing 131 (5.16);
tail (from base of uropygium) 114.5 (4.50); tarsus 19.6 (.77); exposed culmen 19.6 (.77);
depth of bill at nostril 8.1 (.32). Females slightly smaller.
Taken in Santa Barbara County Photo by the Author
A PASTORAL
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; pure black coloration with metallic reflections;
and whitish eye of male. Larger than Cowbird (Molothrus ater), with which alone it is
likely to be confused.
Nesting.— Nest: placed at moderate height in bush or tree; often in close colonies
in trees (live oak, white oak, or cottonwood) infested by mistletoe; less frequently on
ground at base of bush; more rarely in a cranny of cliff or cavity of decayed tree trunk;
a sturdy, tidy structure of interlaced twigs and grasses, strengthened by a matrix of
mud or of dried cowdung, and carefully lined with coiled rootlets or horsehair. Nests
in colonies, usually straggling, of from six or eight to twenty or thirty pairs. Eggs:
83
The Brewer Blackbird
4°to 7, usually 5 or 6, presenting two divergent types of coloration, with endless varia-
tions and intermediate phases. Light type: ground color light gray or greenish gray,
spotted and blotched with grayish brown or, more sharply, with sepia. Eggs of this
type rehearse relationships, now with the Quiscaline Grackles, and now with the
Yellowheads ( Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus), or the Cowbirds (Molothrus ater). An
egg in the M. C. O. collection has a background of pale niagara green sharply spotted
with a blackish pigment which tones out to dusky drab, and is thus indistinguishable
from the egg of an Agelaiine Blackbird. Dark type: Ground color completely ob-
scured by overlay of fine brown dots, or else by confluent blotches of Rood’s brown,
walnut brown, or cameo brown. Av. of 245 specimens (Bendire) : 25.5 x 18.6 (1.00 x .73).
Extremes: 20.8-27.9 by 15.5-20.1 (.82-1.10 by .61-.79). Season: March 15—June 15;
one or two broods.
Range of Euphagus cyanocephalus.—Western North America. Breeds from
northwestern Minnesota and western Kansas west to the Pacific; and from central
British Columbia and the Saskatchewan region south to northern Lower California
and western Texas. Winters from Kansas and southern British Columbia south to
Guatemala. Casually east to and beyond the Mississippi River during migrations.
Range of E. c. cyanocephalus.—As that of species, minus range of FE. c. minusculus,
defined below. Breeds east of the Sierras, south to Owens Valley; in winter, south
over the Mohave and Colorado deserts.
Authorities—Gambel (Scolecophagus Mexicanus), Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci.
Phila., ser. 2, vol. i, 1847, p. 47 (part); Fisher, A. K., N. Amer. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, pp.
78-79 (range); Ray, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, pp. 194-196 (odd nest sites); vol. xii., 1910,
pp. 20, 21 (variation in eggs); Grinnell, Condor, vol. xxii., 1920, pp. 152-154 (critical;
range in Calif.).
No. 14a California Brewer Blackbird
A. O. U. No. 510 part. Euphagus cyanocephalus minusculus Grinnell.
Description.—‘‘Similar to Euphagus cyanocephalus cyanocephalus but averaging
smaller throughout; metallic sheen of back, rump, and posterior lower surface in male
steely blue rather than brassy in tone.’’ (Grinnell). Av. of 10 males: wing 124.9
(4.92); tail (from base of uropygium) 105.9 (4.17); bill 18.8 (.74); tarsus 32.2 (1.27).
Av. of 8 females: wing 115 (4.53); tail 97.8 (3.85); bill 17.1 (.67); tarsus 30.1 (1.18).
Range of E. c. minusculus (chiefly contained within California) —Resident in
California west of the Sierran divide, or else retiring from upper levels of Sierran range
in winter; north to Siskiyou County; south to the line of Lower California, or a little
beyond.
Authorities.—Gambel (Scolecophagus Mexicanus), Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci.
Phila., ser. 2, vol. i., 1847, p. 47 (part); Heermann, Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. x., pt.
iv., 1859, pp. 53-54 (habits); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 493-
496 (habits, nests and eggs); McGregor, Osprey, vol. i., 1897, pp. 103-105 (roost); Beal,
Bull. Div. Biol. Survey, no. 13, 1900, pp. 50-52; no. 34, I910, pp. 59-65, pl. iv. (food);
Grinnell, Condor, vol. xxii., 1920, pp. 152-154 (description of minusculus; range in
Calif.).
WE SHALL never be able to escape the alliterative finality of Brewer’s
Blackbird. So where is the use of pointing out that this bird is really a
grackle? or that the name “ Blackbird’? was pre-empted centuries
84
viegivg BURBS Iau Uaye T,
oun p ayt dg ydvibozoyd v WOd
SPALGYIeE 1OMIAG Jo YS V
The Brewer Blackbird
=,
4
oe
> 4 we
A
wy
4
aad
a) re 4
“fy
a“ 4 oe
~
we
et
Taken in Sania Barbara County
Photo by the Author
HIGH NOTES
BLACKBIRDS, CHIEFLY BREWERS
ago by an Old World thrush (Turdus merula)? The name “blackbird,”
moreover, in America, carries with it a strong suggestion of thievishness,
an odium scarcely deserved by the subject of this sketch. He is a hand-
some fellow, our western grackle, sleek, vivacious, interesting, and
serviceable withal. We know him best, perhaps, as an industrious
gleaner of pastures, corrals, streets, and ‘‘made”’ lands. He is not only
the farmer’s ‘“‘hired man,’’ waging increasing warfare against insect life,
especially in its noxious larval forms, but he has an accepted place in the
economy of city and village as well.
As one approaches a feeding flock, he notes the eagerness with which
the birds run forward, or rise and flit past their fellows, now diving at a
nimble weevil, now leaping to catch a passing bug, but always pushing on
until the onlooker perceives a curious rolling effect in the total movement.
As we draw near, some timid individual takes alarm, and instantly
all are up, to alight again upon the fence or shrubbery, where they clack
and whistle, not so much by way of apprehension as through sheer ex-
uberance of nervous force. As we pass (we must not stop short, for they
resent express attention) we note the droll white eyes of the males, as they
twist and perk and chirp in friendly impudence, and the snuffy brown
heads of the females with their soft hazel irides, as they give a motherly
fluff of the feathers, or yawn with impatience over the interrupted meal.
When we are fairly by, the most venturesome dives from his perch, and
the rest follow by twos and tens, till the ground is again covered by a
shifting, chattering band.
Like all blackbirds (grackles included), the Brewers are gregarious,
35
The Brewer Blackbird
but they are somewhat more independent than most, flocks of one or two
score being more frequent than those of a hundred. During migration
and in winter flocking they associate more or less with Redwings; but,
although they are devoted to the vicinity of water, they care nothing for
the fastnesses of reed and rush, which are the delight of Redwing and
Yellowhead. Their preference is for more open situations. The water
may be that of river, lake, or horse-pond. A watering-trough, if its
supply be constant, will have its devoted circle of black admirers, and
especially if it also assures the presence of cattle. In some places their
attendance upon horses or cattle is so close that they almost fulfil the
function of Cowbirds. Being omnivorous as well as adaptable, the
grain wasted by feeding animals is consumed by these birds as greedily
as are the insects which annoy them. Familiarity with domestic animals
may reach the point where the birds are suffered on the back; and Mrs.
Bailey tells us that in the Escondido country the birds take toll of the
sheep’s backs at nesting time.
Although isolated nests may now and then be found, colonies are
the rule; and we sometimes find as high as twenty nests in a single tree,
or forty in a given patch of greenery. There is, of course, room even here
for individual choice of nesting sites; but the community choice is far
more striking. Thus, one recalls the grease-wood nesting, the mistletoe
nesting, the rose-briar nesting, the Monterey cypress nesting, where all
the members of the colony conform to the locally established rule in nest
position. J. H. Bowles records a most remarkable instance of this in
Washington. One season the nests in the South Tacoma colony were
all placed in small bushes, the highest not over four feet from the ground;
but in the season following, the birds were all found nesting in cavities
near the top of some giant fir stub, none of them less than 150 feet from
the ground. Mr. Tyler? found them breeding at Shaver Lake (elevation
5300 ft.) in the old dead pine stubs standing out in the water. And Mr.
Ray? reports their nesting at Lake Tahoe in the crannies of rotting piles.
Numerous instances are on record where nests have been placed on the
ground, and sometimes entire colonies will adopt this indolent and un-
questionably hazardous method.
In construction, the nest of the Brewer Blackbird varies considerably,
but at its best it is quite a handsome affair. Composed externally of
twigs, weed-stalks, and grasses, its characteristic feature is an interior
mould, or matrix, of dried cow-dung or mud, which gives form and stability
to the whole. The lining almost invariably includes fine brown rootlets,
but horsehair is also welcomed wherever available.
eccnne Birds of Washington,”’ Vol. 1, p. 47, 1909.
2John G. Tyler in “‘The Condor,” Vol. XI., May 1909, p. 83.
3Milton S. Ray, “‘The Condor,’’ Vol. XI., Nov. 1909, p. 193-196.
56
The Brewer Blackbird
The eggs of Brewer’s Blackbird are the admiration of oologists.
Ranging in color from clear greenish gray with scattered markings through
denser patterns to nearly uniform umber and chocolate, they are the
natural favorites of ‘‘series’’ hunters. The range of variation is, indeed,
curious, but it proves to be entirely individual and casual, without trace
of local or constant differences. Eggs from the same nest are usually
uniform in coloration, but even here there may be a notable diversity.
In some instances, after three or four eggs are laid, the pigment gives out,
and the remainder of the set is lighter colored. Again, single eggs are
heavily pigmented half way, and finished with a clear green ground-color.
Taken in Santa
Barbara County
Photo by the Author a er prec ee SES
CONTENTMENT—A SCENE IN THE ESTERO
Fresh eggs have been taken as early as March 16th,! but April is the
proper nesting month at the lower levels. It is impossible, though,
to lay down rules or strike averages for a bird which breeds from the
level of the sea to the top of high Transition, and possibly into Boreal. I
am not able to find a specific record of the Brewer Blackbird’s nesting
above 7000 feet, although Dr. Fisher? mentions it as ‘‘breeding at Big
Cottonwood Meadows [alt. 10,000] during the summer;”’ and I presume
that the birds which appeared at the Cottonwood Lakes (alt. 11,350)
June 23rd, 1911, fell to nesting forthwith, as did the Spotted Sandpipers,
which did not arrive until the 14th of July.
This is but a characteristic example of the complexity of distribu-
tional problems in California. A precise account of the seasonal ranges
in this State of the Brewer Blackbird alone would require a separate
1By Evan Davis near Orange: Grinnell, Pub. 2, Pasadena Acad. Sci., 1898, p. 34.
*Birds of the Death Valley Expedition, p. 78.
87
The Brewer Blackbird
volume. In general, we may say with Grinnell! that “it breeds the
whole length of the State—at the north chiefly east of the Sierran divide,
south, east of the Sierras, to Owens Valley, west of the Sierras through
the Sacramento Valley and marginal foothills of the San Joaquin Valley,
and coastally from the San Francisco Bay region south through the San
Diegan district.’’ It summers, therefore, through Upper Sonoran and
Lower Transition and into Boreal of characteristically Sonoran complexion
or approaches. In winter it probably retains its middle holdings, but its
upper level population recedes to Lower Sonoran levels and to unoccu-
pied Upper Sonoran areas, such as the southern central valleys.
We have called the Brewer Blackbird ‘‘Grackle,’’ and are influenced,
not alone by structure, but as much, perhaps, by consideration of its
economy, which is largely that of the ‘“‘Crow Blackbird” (Quiscalus
quiscalus and its allies). It is in his notes, however, that the Brewer
Blackbird betrays his affinities best of all. The melodiously squeaking
chatter of mating time is, of course, most like that of the Rusty Blackbird
(E. carolinus), but it lacks the bubbling character. He has then the
swelling note of the Grackles proper, fff-weet, the latter part rendered with
something of a trill, the former merely as an aspirate; and the whole
accompanied by expansion of body, slight lifting of wings, and partial
spreading of tail. This note is uttered not only during the courting
season, but on the occasion of excitement of any kind. Kooree has a
fine metallic quality which promptly links it to the Keyring note of the
Redwing. Chup is the ordinary note of distrust and alarm, or of stern
inquiry, as when the bird-man is caught fingering the forbidden ovals.
A harsh, low rattle, or rolling note, is also used when the birds are squab-
bling among themselves, or fighting for position.
The menu of Euphagus cyanocephalus is highly varied, as becomes a
bird which dwells from sea-level to timber-line. It consists in part of
grain, but this is chiefly gleaned waste (remember that the bird is absent
from much of the grain-growing area at harvest season). After this,
come weed-seeds and insects of a thousand hues, chiefly injurious or
superabundant. Dr. Bryant?, in investigating the butterfly scourge,
which for several years past has been destroying the chaparral in the Mt.
Shasta region, found that Brewer’s Blackbird was the only species which
was addressing itself resolutely to the task of keeping the butterflies
(Eugonia californica) within bounds. Whole flocks of these blackbirds
subsisted almost entirely upon the adult butterflies for the week during
which they were under observation.
Garden fruits, especially cherries, are sometimes levied upon; but
'Pac. Coast Avifauna, No. II, p. 106.
2“The Condor,” Vol. XIII., Nov. 1911, pp. 195-208.
&S
The Arizona Hooded Oriole
the blackbirds will forsake the choicest ‘‘Bings’”’ if a neighbor starts
plowing. It is as gleaners of cut-worms and grubs that these birds earn
our warmest approbation; and from their close attendance upon the
plow it is pretty safe to say that the Brewer Blackbird earns his keep
ten times over.
Taken in Santa Barbara County Photo by the Author
BREWER BLACKBIRDS EATING OATS
No. 15
Arizona Hooded Oriole
A. O. U. No. 505a. icterus cucullatus nelsoni Ridgway.
Synonym.—PaiM ORIOLE.
Description.—Adult male in breeding plumage: Black, white, and cadmium-
yellow; a glossy black mask, involving lower anterior portion of face, chin, throat, and
chest (with convex posterior outline), sharply set off against rich cadmium-yellow of
head, neck, and underparts; the yellow continuous with that of lower back, rump, and
upper tail-coverts; axillars and under wing-coverts paler yellow (lemon-chrome) ; upper
back, broadly continuous with scapulars and lesser wing coverts, glossy black; wings
and tail chiefly black; middle coverts and tips of greater coverts white, the flight feathers
and tertials margined with white upon exposed webs; the rectrices tipped, or not, with
white. Bill and feet black. Adult male in fall and winter: As in spring, but orange-
yellow duller, washed above with olivaceous; the scapulars, etc., tipped with grayish
olive. Adult female: Quite different. Back dull brownish gray, washed with oliva-
ceous, everywhere shading—into fuscous of wings, into livelier olivaceous on head and
neck, on sides into olive-yellow of underparts; rectrices shaded with olive-yellow on
exposed portion (save on middle pair, which is faintly dusky-barred); middle and
greater wing-coverts tipped with whitish, forming two inconspicuous bands; flight
feathers margined with light brownish gray; olive-yellow of underparts clearing to
wax-yellow on breast and under tail-coverts. Juvenals and immature birds resemble
the female parent, but are duller. First year male in spring: Much like adult female,
but showing increase of yellow, especially below, with a resulting greenish or olivaceous
0)
The Arizona Hooded Oriole
cast; chin and throat black. The approaching maturity of male birds is characterized
by steady intensification of the yellows, and extension of the black ‘‘bib;’’ but the
characters of the adult female are stubbornly retained above, and it is probable that
the adult characters are not acquired until the third spring. In all males, advancing
age is betokened by increase of the orange element in the yellows, so that the color of
the oldest birds is a little richer than ‘‘cadmium-yellow.”’ Length of adult male about
203.2 (8.00). Av. of 10 (Ridgway): wing 88.4 (3.48); tail 89.9 (3.54); bill 21.6 (.85);
tarsus 22.4 (.88). Females slightly smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size. As compared with Icterus bullocki, with
which alone it is likely to be confused, note yellow head, or “‘hood,’’ of male; much more
extensive black of throat; tail black, not yellow, on under side; yellows less orange.
Underparts entirely yellow in female and young.
Nesting.— Nest: a closely woven basket, or hanging pouch, of fine vegetable
fiber, usually composed externally of a single, uniform, selected material, and in Cali-
fornia almost invariably the shredded fibers of the Washington Palm ( Neowashingtonia
filifera), with some inner felting of vegetable down or feathers; lashed to the under side
of a palm leaf or of other large protecting leaves. Eggs: 3 or 4, white or bluish white,
sharply, sparingly and irregularly spotted, chiefly about the larger end, with purplish
black and purpish gray. Av. size 21.6 x 15.4 (.85 x .61). Season: late April—-July;
two broods.
Range of Icterus cucullatus—Southern California, southern Arizona, and the
lower valley of the Rio Grande, south to Honduras.
Range of J. c. nelsoni.—Southern Ca ifornia, southern Arizona, and south-
western New Mexico, south to Lower California and Tepic, Mexico; winters south of
the United States.
Distribution in California.»—Common summer resident, of local distribution in
the Lower Sonoran zone of the lower Colorado River valley, the Colorado Desert and the
San Diegan district, west to Santa Barbara and Santa Ynez (Aug. 19, 1917). There
is a record for Auburn, Placer County (Bendire, Life Histories, vol. ii., 1895, p. 476);
and the species is of probable occurrence in the Tulare basin.
Authorities.—Cooper, Proc. Calif. Acad. Nat. Sci., vol. il., 1861, p. 122; Stephens,
Auk, vol. i., 1884, p. 355 (nests); Ridgway, Proc. U. S. National Mus., vol. viii., 1885,
p- 19 (description of nelsoni); Illingworth, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, pp. 98-100 (nests);
Bailey, F. M., Auk, vol. xxvii., 1910, pp. 33-35, pls. iv., v. (nests in s. Calif.); Wear,
Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, p. 234 (at Fresno).
EXACT information regarding the Arizona Hooded Oriole is curi-
ously lacking. The bird is rated common in Southern California; and
most of us have seen its nest, a sturdy fistful of twisted palm fibers lashed
midway of some protecting cluster of large leaves (sycamore or fig), or
hung from the under side of a palm-leaf. Its brilliant colors, golden-
yellow and black, with touches of white, mark the male bird for distinction,
yet the bird is so modest, so retiring, or else so crafty, and so reticent
withal. that our impressions of his personality seem to be very hazy.
Much of our confusion is caused, no doubt, by the presence of its
several-times more numerous, ten times noisier, and hundred times less
go
t 4 LA ‘
and threat black, The approaching maturity of male birds is characteriz
idy intensification at the vellows, and extension of the black “bib; but t
characters of the adult female are scubborniy retained above, and it is probable that
the adult characters are tat dred until che third spring. In all males, advancing
age is betokened by increaw: of thy orange element in the yellows, so that the color of
the oldest birds ta « little pictur Gio “cadnium-yellow.”’ Length of adult male about
203.2 (8.00). Ay. of 10 (Miigwas). wing 88.4 (3.48); tail 89.9 (3.54); bill 21.6 (85); ) ”
“tarsus 22.¢ 1.88), Pereies stabity acialler, i i
Recognition Macks.--Towhee size, As compared with Icterus bullocki, with
which alune it is Ghety ta he coefused, note yellow head, or “hood,” of male; much more
estensive black of tliat; tail black, not yellow, on under side; yellows less orange.
Underparis cettrel) yellow in female and, young, ;
Nesting.--- Nest: a closely woven basket, or hanging pouch, of fine vegetable
fiber, usually composed externally of a single, uniform, selected material, and in Cali-
fornia almost invariably the shredded fibers of the Washington Palm ( Neowashingtonia
Alifera), with some inner felting of vegetable down or feathers; lashed to the under side
of. a palm leaf or of other large protecting leaves, Eggs: 3 or 4. white ar bluish white, _
shershy, sparingly and irregularly spotted, chiefly about the larger ead, with purplish
black and purpish gray. Av. size 21.6 x 15.4 C85 x 61), Seasons late Apal-jaly;
two broods. : es
Range of Icterus cucullalus.—Southern California, southern Arizona, and the
lower valley af the Rio Grande, south to Honduras. =
Arizona, and) south-
estera New Mexico, south to Lower California and Tepic, Mexivoy winters south, of
ihe Winted Aiates,
Rande of TP. < welsoni-—-Southern: Ca itlornia, southern
Distribution in California.—Common summer resident. of idcal disteibution in
the Lower Sonora: zone of Arizona Hooded Oriole: be Colorads Desert and the
San Diegan district, event ‘ge ae a aarbare and bout ¥4 life size, 19, 7917): “There
is a record for Auburn. Placer County (ea ire, de istories, Vol, ik, 1895, p. 476);
and the species is of phUR@oeeeaemyaceuring w.tvomBepoks
Awtharitles.—Cooper, Proc. Calif. Acad. Nat. Sci., vol. ii., 1861, p. 122; Stephens,
Auk, voli, 188d, p 355 (nests); Ridgway, Proc. U.S. National Mus., vol. viii., 1885,
yp, 19 fAescrtption of uelséer); Mmigworth, Condor, vol. iii, 1901, pp. 98-100 (nests);
ey, A AE, Auk, wol, axvit., rote, pp: 33-36, pls. iv. ve (nests: in (sy Calif.); Wear,
Spahr, oh. ses HOEK, Gd O4d fad Penna), if
the Arizona Hooded Oriole is’ curi- ~
thern California: and
«t pales Bbers lashed -
woarmore or fig), or >
iat color, golden- ”
vic Lane bor dHatinetion, |
an eradey. aad so teticent
nex se be very hazy.
. be the presence of its
The Arizona Hooded Oriole
bashful cousin, the Bullock Oriole. Indeed, our modest hero fairly
skulks in the shadow cast by his more brilliant but not more beautiful
kinsman. The writer once camped for a month under a tree which
eventually cradled nests of both these species. Yet in that time I never
heard a note which did not upon investigation trace to bullocki, nor see
a distinctive movement of nelsont, save of the female at her nest. In view
of this experience, I mistrust some of the observations already in print,
and offer meager notes of my own with the utmost diffidence. The
biographer of Icterus cucullatus nelsonz is still in training.
The Arizona Hooded Oriole begins to arrive in California late in
March. I say “‘begins to arrive’’ because I think it altogether probable
that there are two streams or stocks of migrants, one arriving early and
nesting in April and July, the other nesting only once, in late May or
early June. Santa Barbara seems to be the usual limit of northern
migration; but I once saw a pair east of Paso Robles (April 22, 1912);
and Bendire gives it!, upon what authority I do not know, from Auburn,
in Placer County. Late September, or earliest October, witnesses the
departure of this species from the State.
Although coming of a family famous for tuneful good cheer, the
Arizona Hooded Oriole gives a poor account of himself as a songster.
This does not seem to be so much for lack of ability as for lack of impulse.
He is not of the noisy kind. When he does condescend to sing, it will be
briefly, at daybreak or thereabouts. His vocal efforts are exceedingly
variable both as to length and quality, now a weak rasping phrase, now a
succession of sputtering squeaks, half musical and half wooden, and now
a wild medley wherein are imbedded notes of a liquid purity. At its
best it reminds one, just distantly, of Bobolink’s. Tsweetsee burr ho
wick divoer, rendered in sprightly fashion, will give one a notion of its
dashing inconsistency. But these singing phrases are exceedingly rare.
And lest I be thought to exaggerate through lack of opportunity to observe,
I may say that a pair of these birds has nested regularly in the yard of my
next door neighbor since we came to California. The nest can be found
at the appropriate season whenever we set out to look for it; yet so silent,
so secretive, so utterly extra-mundane are the birds, we could forget their
existence, were it not for an occasional chirp (or, more exactly, chweet)
which is at least unmistakably Icterine.
This very day (July 16, 1917), being reminded, I step over into
Neighbor Hoover’s yard and search the nearest sycamore carefully. The
tree is in high leaf, and the foliage fairly dense. Ah, there it is, nearly
concealed in the drooping tip of one of the outermost branches, some
twenty feet above the ground. By the help of some ladies (over-solicitous
lLife Histories, Vol. I., p. 475, 1895.
OL
The Arizona Hooded Oriole
of the birdman’s safety) I ascend a ladder balanced in an upright position,
for the branch is a mere whip-end. There are three eggs, white, lightly
spotted and briefly scrawled with dark reddish brown, utterly unlike the
Bullock Oriole type. The nest is a rounded hammock, or deep cup,
composed solely of fine, even strands of palm fiber, and made fast on its
sides through numberless holes pierced in the substance of enveloping
leaves. The cup is three inches wide and of a like depth, and boasts a
scanty lining of white chicken-feathers. But all we hear of the owners
is a faint chirp from the female, concealed in a distant thicket. It is not
a time, evidently, for the risking of black-and-gold liveries.
One season this local pair of birds behaved very strangely. Instead
of getting down to business, the birds idled away the month of July
making trial, or decoy, nests. These were invariably of palm fiber,
carefully moulded but not always lined; and we found two in our tree
yucca, two in Neighbor Hoover’s banana tree, and one in a small sycamore,
all, apparently, the product of a single pair of birds. To what end was
all the labor? Was milady so hard to please? Or were there possibly
several miladies?
A possible key to this strange conduct is afforded by the experience
of another observer, Mrs. Bagg, of Santa Barbara. According to this
lady, a male Hooded Oriole was observed day after day as he constructed
a nest on the under side of a palm leaf on the Bagg demesne. No sign
of the female was at any time seen during construction. When the
edifice was completed, however, the young swain appeared one morning
with two females. The ladies inspected the quarters minutely, and each
arriving at the decision that the situation was one to be desired, fell into a
dispute as to whose it should be. Finally, they set to and fought bitterly.
The quarrel could not be decided in a single day, for each lady was de-
termined to win home and fortune. Each day, therefore, they fought,
until both were exhausted. Again and again they carried their battle
to the ground, and might have been caught, so bitter was their hatred.
The male, it seems, took no part in the conflict, but either looked on
disgustedly, or took himself off to moralize on the depravity of woman-
kind. Finally, one suitress gave in and left her rival in possession.
Peace being established, the winner laid two eggs and sat happily for a
few days, sat until her old enemy, having recruited her strength, returned
to give battle. A fight ensued. The eggs were broken in the scrimmage,
the nest dishevelled, and the conflict was transferred to parts unknown—
certainly a sad case of misguided judgment on the part of one member of
the sterner sex.
The Scott Oriole
No. 16
Scott’s Oriole
A. O. U. No. 504. Icterus parisorum Bonaparte.
Description.—Adult male in breeding plumage: Head and neck all around,
breast, and back, jet black; remaining underparts (including axillars and under wing-
coverts), rump, tail-coverts, and basal three-fifths of tail (one-third only on central
pair), pure yellow (lemon-chrome); bend of wing and lesser and middle wing-coverts
yellow, the last-named tipped with lighter yellow; the greater coverts and tertials
tipped with white; rest of wing and tail black. Adult male in winter: ‘Similar to
summer male, but white markings on wing much broader, feathers of back more or less
margined with light gray, rump and upper tail coverts more strongly washed with
olive or gray, and flanks more or less tinged with olive’ (Ridgway). Adult female in
breeding plumage: Somewhat similar to adult male in spring, but black pure only on
throat and chest, and there reduced in area; feathers on the borders of this area tipped
with yellow; remainder of head and neck mingled olive-yellow and black the former
in fine skirting; the back olive-gray with lighter skirtings and darker centers; rump and
upper tail-coverts yellowish (citrine or oil-yellow); the tail brownish olive centrally
and terminally, shading into oil-yellow basally and marginally; underparts yellow, pure
only centrally on wing-linings, elsewhere washed with olivaceous; lesser and middle
wing-coverts mingled with olive-yellow and black; the middle and greater coverts
broadly white-tipped; remainder of wing grayish brown with lighter edgings. Im-
mature male (through the second year?): Like adult female, but progressively blacker,
anteriorly, especially below. Immature female: Like adult female but much duller;
more sordid or olive-gray below and without black— olive-gray instead (through second
year?); progressively brighter after first year (?), with gradual access of black anteriorly.
The unmarked phase of the female Scott Oriole has been described as adult (i. e., Ridg-
way, Bull. 50, U. S. N. M., pt. ii., p. 309), but the logic of development would seem to
favor the explanation given, and black-throated examples abound. Juvenals (first
plumage) differ from immature females, if at all, only in being more purely yellow on
the posterior underparts. Length of males about 211 (8.30). Av. of 16 specimens (after
Ridgway). wing 104.4 (4.10); tail 88.4 (3.48); bill 22.9 (.90); tarsus 23.9 (.94). Females
average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size; foreparts entirely black, sharply contrasting
with yellow rump and underparts of male. In all plumages greenish yellow as con-
trasted with the reddish yellow of Icterus bullockt.
Nesting.— Nest: a sturdy basket of twisted, interlaced, and broken grasses,
plucked green; lined with finer grasses, seed pappus, or other soft substances; lashed to,
or impaled upon, the narrow sword-like leaves of the yucca, and especially (in California)
of the tree yuccas ( Yucca arborescens and Y. mohavensis) Eggs: 3 or 4, rarely 5, white
or pale bluish white, marked sparingly with reddish brown or blackish. The markings
are rounded, zigzag, or various, but show no tendency to scrolling, although there are
occasional hints of coronal wreathing. The colors too are oftenest partially self-toned
by virtue of superimposed lime, and there are sometimes minute frecklings which
impart a dirty appearance to the egg. Av. size 23.8 x 17 (.94 x .67). Season: About
May Ist (on the Mohave desert); one (?) brood.
The Scott Oriole
General Range.—Lower Sonoran zone from southern California, southwestern
Utah, and western Texas, south to Lower California and through Mexico to Michoacan
and Vera Cruz; winters south of the American border.
Distribution in California.—Resident in summer in the arid Upper Sonoran
fringes of the southeastern deserts, breeding from the tree yucca to the pinyon associa-
tions, chiefly upon the flanks of the desert-facing mountains, north to the Inyo Moun-
tains; also near San Diego (Browne), and on the west slope of the Sierra Nevada in
Walker Pass, Kern County (Grinnell). Of casual occurrence during migrations in the
San Diegan district, west to Santa Barbara (May 7, 1913).
Authorities.—Cooper, Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 276; Browne, Auk, vol. viii., 1891,
p. 238; Fisher, A. K., N. Amer. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, pp. 67-68 (range and nest); Anthony,
Auk, vol. x., 1894, pp. 327-328 (in San Diego Co.); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds,
vol. ii., 1895, pp. 471-474, pl. vi., figs. 28, 29 (habits, nest and eggs); Grinnell, Condor,
vol. xil., 1910, p. 46 (range); Wallett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 71 (status in
s. Calif.)
Taken in San Bernardino County Pholo by Wright M. Pierce
NEST OF SCOTT'S ORIOLE—SUSPENDED FROM YUCCA BRANCHES
“AWAKENING SONGS” are all very well for poets and milk
peddlers, who require little sleep, but they are much resented by the
average Californian, and especially by those of us who affect sleeping
porches. It is for this reason that the author, blessed (or plagued) with
a keen sense of hearing, confesses to sleeping with a huge pillow plastered
over his ear. But the angel of bird-men, relentless as a Pullman porter,
94
The Scott Oriole
earned my special
gratitude when on
a certain May
morning he roused
me, regardless, to
listen to a golden
song which poured
down from a syca-
more tree hard by.
Ly tz tz tee to, tt ly
ti tt te to, came the
compelling out-
burst. I took it
for a freak Mead-
owlark song at
first, but once
(en © ie © wl & Im Why
aroused, knew it |
iO Ain ICreimune ==
carol—ly tt tt tee to, Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce
ta ly tt tt tee to—
molten notes with
a fond thrill to them, more restrained than the clarion of the Meadow-
lark, smoother and sweeter than the tumult of a Bullock Oriole, and,
of course, with the double repetition, a much longer song than either.
This episode signalized the westernmost appearance of this gifted musi-
cian, and necessitated, I regret to say, mortuary rites. Maturer im-
pressions, obtained in Arizona in a more characteristic setting of pinyons,
scattering live oaks, and the inevitable yuccas, confirmed the judg-
ment of a rare quality in this Oriole’s song. Again and again we started
up with the thought of Meadowlark (at an unlikely altitude of 5000
feet), and were as often disarmed by the subtle restraint, the unexampled
purity and the faint melancholy of the concluding notes. All around
was tense silence, dryness, and appalling heat, the desolation of mid-
day in the desert foothills. Ly ty ti ti tee to, ly ty ti tt tee to, cut across
the dry silences like the voice of a spirit treading the plains of asphodel.
How important an element this song becomes in the life of the high
deserts, Scott testifies in his classical first description of the bird’s habits :!
“Few birds sing more incessantly, and in fact I do not recall a species in
the Eastern or Middle States that is to be heard as frequently. The
males are, of course, the chief performers, but now and again, near a nest,
SCOTT’S ORIOLE—A SECOND YEAR MALE
1W. E. D. Scott, The Auk, Vol. II., Jan. 1885.
95
The Scott Oriole
while watching the birds, I would detect a female singing the same
glad song, only more softly. At the earliest daybreak and all day long,
even when the sun is at its highest, and during the great heat of the
afternoon, its very musical whistle is one of the few bird songs that are
ever present.”
Unfortunately, the singers are very shy, and the pursuit of their
ravishing notes all too rarely yields a view of the handsome singer, with
his blackest of heads and his most intensely yellow under-plumage. Even
the females, who are much duller in appearance, will slyly forsake their
nests upon the distant approach of the stranger, and will oftenest remain
concealed, or absent themselves, while the nest is being examined.
Typically, the birds nest in the tree yuccas, whether in the Joshua
tree (Yucca arborescens) of the eastern desert ranges and the Walker’s
Pass region, or in the Mohave Yucca ( Y.mohavensis Sargent) of the Antelope
Valley and the northern slopes of the San Bernardino range. Further
south yuccas of the sword-bayonet type (Y. baccata and related forms)
furnish shelter, and the palms (Washingtonia filifera) of Palm Canyon and
other valleys, are accepted as substitutes. In default of these, Scott’s
Oriole has been known to nest in pinyons or live oaks or even sycamores.
When in the yuccas, nests are, of necessity, placed at moderate heights,
four to ten feet. The edges of descending leaves of the plant are frayed or
notched, to serve for the attachment of the threads which support the
nest. A deep cup is woven out of yucca fibers or grasses, occasionally
supplemented by horsehair, and the linings boast either cotton waste
or finely shredded hemp.
From its semi-desert association, the food of Scott’s Oriole must
consist chiefly of insects, supplemented, possibly, by nectar. Mrs. Kate
Stephens once saw an Oriole drink deeply from the tubular orange flowers
of the aloe, and thinks that they find nourishment also in the blossoms
of tree tobacco.! Bendire notes? their eating the ripe fruit of the giant
cactus; and Dr. Grinnell? took specimens at Fairmont which were gorged
with apricots.
We have, evidently, much to learn yet of the comings and goings
of Scott’s Oriole. Most recorded appearances fall within the dates
April Ist and September 15th; but Stephens has seen them at San
Diego as early as Feb. 26 (1916)4; and W. B. Judson took a specimen in
the San Fernando Valley, Nov. 2, 1903.° The vicinity of San Diego has
been favored with many recent appearances, and it is quite possible that
1Condor, Vol. VIII., p. 130.
2“Vife Histories,"’ Vol. I., p. 473.
8Condor, Vol. XII., p. 46.
4Condor, Vol. XVIII, May, 1916, p. 130.
5Condor, Vol. VI., p. 25.
96
The Bullock Oriole
the species is slowly extending its range. Its normal choice of altitude,
however, from 4000 to 6000, is rather narrowly represented in the Upper
Sonoran zone of California, and its total population does not begin to
compare with either J. bullocki or I. cucullatus nelsoni.
No. 17
Bullock’s Oriole
A. O. U. No. 508. Icterus bullocki (Swainson).
Description.—Adult male: Black, white, and orange; bill, lore, a line through
eye, and throat (narrowly) jet black; pileum, back, scapulars, lesser wing-coverts,
primary coverts, and tertials, chiefly black, or with a little yellowish skirting; remiges
black edged with white; middle and greater coverts, continuous with edging of tertials
and secondaries, white, forming a large patch; tail chiefly cadmium-yellow, but central
pair of rectrices black on exposed area, and remaining pairs tipped with blackish;
remaining plumage, including supraloral areas continuous with superciliaries, orange
(cadmium-orange in oldest examples), most intense on sides of throat and chest, shading
on lower breast to cadmium-yellow posteriorly; rump washed with olivaceous. In
younger adults the orange is less intense, and the tail is more extensively black. Bill
black above, bluish below; feet and legs (drying) dusky horn color. Adult female:
Above drab-gray, clearest on rump and upper tail-coverts; washed with yellow on head;
wings fuscous with whitish edging; pattern of white in coverts of male retained, but
much reduced in area; tail nearly uniform dusky orange (aniline yellow to old gold);
sides of throat and chest wax-yellow (with irruptions of orange in older birds); chin
and throat (narrowly) and remaining underparts sordid white or pale creamy buff;
the under tail-coverts usually (but not always) tinged with yellow. Immature male:
Like adult female; yellows of head and throat stronger. Young male in first spring:
Like adult female, but sides of head, throat, and breast aniline yellow; lores, chin, and
throat narrowly black. Birds breed in this plumage, and it is uncertain whether or not
it may be carried into the second year. Length of adult male about 210 (8.25); wing
100 (3.94); tail 79 (3.11); bill 18.5 (.73) tarsus 25 (.98). Female somewhat smaller ,
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size; black, white, and orange coloration; top of
head black, and under side of tail yellow, as contrasted with the Arizona Hooded Oriole.
Females and young extensively whitish below. Note slender, blackish bill of female,
as contrasted with heavy, light-colored bill of Western Tanager (Piranga ludoviciana) ;
wing-bars white; underparts with contrasting yellow and whitish, where the Tanager
is uniform greenish yellow.
Nesting.— Nest: A pendent pouch of elaborately interwoven grasses, vegetable
fibers, string, or horsehair, either uniform or variously composed; 5 to 9 inches in depth,
and lashed by brim, or suspended by lengthened filaments, to branches of deciduous
trees, usually at moderate heights. Eggs: Usually 5; elongate ovate; grayish white or
bluish white as to ground, or, rarely, tinged with claret, boldly and intricately scrawled
with pen lines, fine or broad, of purplish black. The pattern tends to confluence in a
coronal wreath, or cloud cap, and appears as though traced continuously through many
97
The Bullock Oriole
revolutions. Av. size 23.9 x 16 (.94 x .63). Season: May-June; one brood. Extreme
nesting dates are: Claremont, April 25, 1901, by W. M. Pierce; and Pasadena, July 18,
1894, by H. A. Gaylord.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding from southern British
Columbia and southern Saskatchewan south to northern Mexico, and from South
Dakota and western Kansas to the Pacific; wintering in Mexico south to Colima,
Guerrero, and Puebla.
Distribution in California.—‘‘Abundant summer resident in many parts of
the State—from the Nevada line to the seacoast, and from the Oregon line to the Mexi-
can boundary. Of very general zonal and faunal preferences; breeds from Lower
Sonoran up through Transition, and from the riparian association on the deserts (as
along the Colorado River) to the San Francisco Bay region. Of least abundance in the
northwest coast belt and on the Santa Barbara Islands, though there are records from
both. Occurs in migrations even on the arid portions of the southeastern deserts, and
up into the high mountains. Centers of abundance are the interior valleys north of
Tehachapi.’ (Grinnell).
Authorities.—Audubon, Orn. Biog., vol. v., 1839, pp. 9-11; Gambel, Proc. Acad.
Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii., 1847, p. 204 (migration; song; nest); Heermann, Rept. Pac.
R. R. Surv., vol. x., pt. vi., 1859, p. 52 (habits, etc.) ; [//ingworth, Condor, vol. iii., 1901,
pp. 98-100 (nests); Sharp, Condor, vol. v., 1903, pp. 38-42, 3 figs. (unusual nests);
Beal, Biol. Survey Bull., no. 34, 1910, pp. 68-71, pl. x. (food).
THANK God for Wonder! What is it but a pleased interest in the
unfolding panorama of life? We consider it the special attribute of
childhood, because life is new to the child; but woe to us when we cease to
wonder! It isa sign that we have ceased to live. For in the last analysis,
Wonder is Worship—a recognition of the presence of God and ecstatic
joy thereat.
I bring a chance acquaintance to view my collection of eggs. He
glances patronizingly at the painted ovals, murmurs, ‘‘I see,’’ when I
point out an example of protective harmony, and stifles a yawn when I
discourse upon the niceties of hummingbird architecture. He isn’t
interested. What I have proposed for common ground he cannot accept
as such. His thoughts are elsewhere. He does not wonder! Another
gazes with delight upon the unfolded treasures, gives little shrieks of
appreciation at each successive burst of color, and marvels ecstaticallv
over the exquisite traceries of the Oriole. He is manifestly interested in
that which interests me. I have given him pleasure. He wonders, and
is by so much more my friend.
It is not otherwise with the soul and God. Our Heavenly Father
has devised the myriad show of Nature, and has brought us to view it.
If we gaze with unseeing eyes, if we turn quickly away, we offend him.
He has labored in vain, and the Creator’s heart is in so far saddened. But
if, on the other hand, we enter with deep appreciation into the storehouse
98
The Bullock Oriole
Siok Ait Av. size 23.90 x 16 (.94 x .63). Sexson: May-June: one brood,
nesting dates are: Claremont, April 25. 1903, by W. M. Pierce; and Pasadena, July 18,
‘y894, by H. A. Gaylord.
General Range.—Western Neeth Ameriea. breeding from southern British
Columbia and southern Saskaichesws seve to aerthern Mexico,:and from South
Dakota and western Inanses 40 ?hy Paste: wintering in Mexico south to Colima,
Guerrero, and Puebla. :
Distribution ig lokwp aah “Misuetant suimmer resident in many parts of
the State-—trocs the News ie wesroas, and from the Oregon line to the Mexi-
can. boundary. 0% hie ; an Suunal preferences; breeds from Lower
Sonoran weigh F eiureelts 4 (ay riparian association on the deserts (as
Bone She if! piper. Sark s Fvangisco Bay region, Of least abundance in the
r
Meviera Telands, though there are records from
ee ge avid yerttions of the southeastern deserts, and
i oueee af abundance are the interior valleys north of
Richy, wot. Vi, LBRO: Pe. a +1. Gambel, Proc. Acad?
(aivration: seats Hes » Eeermann, Rept. Pac.
: ; sudor. vol, Hi.; 2905,
Ewe. Capusual nein
e
aan aaa GY Manes | 4 iy tease? dyterest mn the
Wane Hh ; it See eectal ateribute of
HRs | Male and female, about % Liles his os wien weleadee (0
sige that we have ceased to ve. For in the last analysis,
ter Is . citehige-a recopnigon af the presence of God and ecstatic
wy “the WISE,
! bring a chance acquaintance to view my pellet of eggs. He
glances patronizingly at the painted ovals, murmurs, “I sée,’’ when |
point out an example of protective harmony, and stifles a yawn when I
discourse upon the niceties of hummingbird architecture. He isn’t~
interested. What I have proposed for common ground he cannot accept
as such. His thoughts are elsewhere. He does not wonder! Another
gazes with delight upon the unfolded treamires, gives little shrieks of
appreciation at each successive burst of cnicr, and marvels ecstaticallv
over the exquisite traceries of the Oriole, ie is avanifestly interested in
that which interests me. | have given hint pivaware, He wonders, and
is by so mich more my friend. at oy
i¢ is not otherwise with the seul and tied. Our Heavenly Father —-
has devised the myriad show of Nature, aad has brought us to view it.
If we gaze with unsecing eyes, if we turn qubekiy way, we offend him. —
He has labored in vain, and the Creator's heart is in so far saddened. But”
if, on the other hand, we enter with deep appreciation into the storehouse
98
The Bullock Oriole
of Nature, if we pass with reverent ecstacy from one marvel to another,
or if we gaze with kindling enthusiasm upon a single example of his perfect
work, we declare ourselves to be of his sort. We are manifestly pleased,
and his pleasure is in the sight of ours. We hold communion with him in
wonder no less than in praise. Rightly considered, wonder is worship,
and God hath not wrought in vain.
And what marvel in all nature shall exceed that offered in the delicate,
fantastic traceries of a Bullock Oriole’s egg! On a background of palest
bluish gray, the calligraphist, having dipped his pen in a well of purplish
black, proceeds to scrawl and shade, to zigzag and flourish and vibrate—
all this while the obedient oval turns round and round. Now as the egg
revolves for a dozen turns, the artist bears on with laborious care. . Now
he lifts the pen; and now, return-
ing, he loiters while the ink
runs out upon the page in little
pools of indelible blackness.
Quaint and fanciful, indeed, are
the divagations of the Icterine
genius. With all the world before
him, why should he not choose to
be fantastic? On a specimen be-
fore me there are traceries which
vary in width from one twen-
tieth of an inch to one ten-
thousandth. Some of them stand
forth like the lines of an engraved
visiting card, while others require
a magnifying glass to recall Photo by Wm. H. Wonfor
their nebulous course to Visi- 4 rypicaL SET OF BULLOCK ORIOLE’S EGGS
bility. On another egg twelve in-
dependent lines pass unheeding within a total space of one tenth of an inch,
while the smaller end of the same egg is perfectly bare. Here the weird
image of a goblin piper braces itself on legs set rakishly awry, and strains
away at a splintered flute—all within the space of a barley-corn. There
a cable of twisted purple ropes frays suddenly and goes off into gossamer
hysterics. Another egg, tottering under its burden of pigment, shows
lines curiously shadowed, or ‘“‘side-wiped.’’ It is all so fascinating, so
bewildering, and so mysterious! What is it all for?.
An easy answer would be that it is a phase of protective coloration.
I can testify that in the special circumstances of a nest wherein scanty
99
The Bullock Oriole
coils of black horsehair show up in high relief against the remaining
background of normal white vegetable felt, these eggs are almost indis-
tinguishable from their surroundings. They
are obliteratively colored. But what of
that? The nest of the Oriole is so deep, and
its eggs so much in shadow that, were they
purest white, they would scarcely show.
And if they were green or blue, it would not
matter. No; I prefer to think
that the artist wishes to be fan-
tastic. And he gets his way.
While each set of eggs shows a
prevailing or unifying motif, each
component egg is individually dis-
tinct. No two objects in nature
are exactly alike; and never by any
chance does the master decorator
of birds’ eggs repeat himself.
But, after all, eggs are as may
be. However curiously we may
admire the Creator’s versatility,
it is in the conscious artistry of the
Photo by F. S. Merrill bird herself that we most openly
FEMALE BULLOCK ORIOLE rejoice. The Oriole does not de-
sign her eggs, but she does design their receptacle; and perhaps nowhere
else in nature are art and utility more happily blended. Certainly the
selective process of art is nowhere else more clearly exemplified than in the
nests of Bullock’s Oriole. Guided, of necessity, by materials at hand, the
bird, nevertheless, in each instance achieves something individual, dis-
tinctive. Even with a wealth of varied materials available, the artist
either makes rigid selection of one, as, black horse-hair, white string, or
gray bark fiber; or else works out some happy combination of two or
three, as, black horse-hair decorated with tufts of cotton, white string
relieved by strands of red, gray bark uniformly interspersed with bluish
threads. Exceptions to this, the olla podrida sort, are very rare.
The artistry of the Bullock Oriole is strikingly comparable to that
of the Baltimore Oriole, or ‘“‘Hangnest,”’ of the East, and its fabrications
are similarly purse-shaped, of elaborate and highly finished weave. The
Bullock’s nests are not, however, so frequently secured by the brim alone,
nor so conspicuously depended from the tips of drooping branches. They
are apt to be, also, of a more open weave, as befits a warmer climate, and
I0O
The Bullock Oriole
one wherein summer rains play little or no part. Nesting, as it does,
from the highlands of Mexico north to British Columbia, the Bullock
Oriole shelters in a great variety of host trees, mesquite, willow, sycamore,
cottonwood, oak, pine even, not to mention every conceivable variety of
the larger shrubs.
Because the variation in construction is so infinite, five examples
from the M. C. O. collections, taken in California, must suffice:
Nest K1604%, lashed throughout to descending twigs of cottonwood;
is composed of horse-hair of three shades, with slight admixture of string,
and is decorated sparingly with small white feathers. Lining, confined
to bottom third, of white feathers. Measures 7 inches deep by 4 wide
overall. Inside depth, from lowest portion of brim, 3% inches. Opening,
21% by 3. Weight with included twigs exactly half an ounce.
Taken in Washington Photo by the Author
AN UNUSUAL NESTING SITE—IN THE TIP OF A WILLOW SAPLING
Nest K130%%, likewise lashed to descending twigs of cottonwood;
light open pattern of horsehair, chiefly black. Copious lining of white
cotton batting is anchored by being pulled through the meshes from the
outside, presenting a handsomely tufted appearance. Depth over all,
6 inches; breadth 41%. Inside depth from brim 3% inches. Width of
opening 21% inches.
IOI
The Bullock Oriole
Nest K112%%, made fast by brim and side supports to branch of
white oak; composed wholly of coarse dried grasses, chiefly fox-tail, the
heads of which are turned outside and left as bristling decorations; a
mere pinch of feathers in lining. Depth over all 7 inches; width 6; inside
depth from brim 4; width of opening 2 by 3.
Nest 44'/,,, composed of fine dry grasses well weathered. Completely
invested by drooping cluster of white oak twigs; built up with gradual
convergence until the opening, one inch by one and a half across, too
small to be functional, and so abandoned.
Nest Ro5*/,, (from Arizona). Rigidly supported by forking limbs
of a horizontal branch of osage orange, and built up above supports; less
pensile than a vireo’s nest. A thick-walled structure of mingled horse-
hair, string, and cotton waste, so copious as not to require special lining.
Measures, outside, 4 inches in depth by 4% in width. Inside 3% inches
in depth. Opening 2 by 3.
Some very interesting nests of this species have been described by
Mr. C. S. Sharp! from Escondido, in which the stems and heads of wild
oats were almost the sole material employed. The straggly projecting
heads of this grain made a striking and unusual effect for a bird whose
habits are a synonym for neatness.
Most of the actual work of nest construction is carried out by the
female, while her mate trails about helplessly, or else applauds her efforts
in song. But one observer, Mr. J. F. Illingworth,? declares that both
birds labor in the construction of the walls, that one posts itself inside
the nest and the other outside, and that the thread is passed back and
forth from one to the other, until the nest is thoroughly ‘‘darned.’’ Be
this as it may, it is the female who makes the selection of material, and
does all the ‘‘rustling.’’ Watching a bird at this perennial quest is
no end of fun. Once, in camp near Dos Palos, a Bullock Oriole paid us
a visit just as the cook was announcing breakfast. All eyes were turned
upon her. She spied the dish-towel drying on the fence, sidled up to it,
sampled a thread, tested it carefully throughout its length, found it
satisfactory, and flew off with it. While she was absent I put up two
lengths of red string for her approval. On returning, she decided that
the dishcloth was on the whole too weak for her purpose and passed it
up. Then she nibbled at the red strings meditatively, as who should
say, ‘Too bad these ar’n’t white, now isn't it?’’ let them fall unheeded,
and passed on. Next she lighted on the automobile, seized a tarpaulin
tape, wrestled with it, and in the scrimmage fell over the corner and
down with the unwinding tape, like a spider descending on its own belly-
'Condor, Vol. V.,. March, 1903, pp. 38-42.
?Condor, Vol. III, July, 1901, p. 99.
I02
The Bullock Oriole
string. But, nothing daunted, the Oriole returned and climbed up and
down the fluttering sheet until she found it quite hopeless. Then she
fell upon the thread which held the two halves of the tarpaulin together.
This she pried and twisted and unthreaded until she had quite a respect-
able length loose. I thought she would have made off with it, but a
fracas among her own kind hard by dissuaded her for the moment, and
our appetites reasserted themselves.
Little space remains to recount the wonder of the birds themselves.
They, or at least the males, are among the half dozen brightest of Cali-
fornia’s birds; and they are, perhaps, more widely distributed than any
other of our “‘birds
of plumage.” Act-
ive, industrious, and
not unconfiding
bodies they are too,
and avery im-
portant element in
the good cheer of
springtide. The
males arrive a week
or two in advance
of their mates, and
appear quite ill at
ease until joined by
their shy com-
panions. “‘Arrange-
meOmcea Aire, Ou
course, not com-
plete, and the
ardent courtships
which ensue are of interest to spectators as well as participants. Only a
moment ago I saw two males pursuing a female who evidently wished
very much to be excused from an immediate decision. One of the males
was a dull-colored young bird, and the other was a gorgeous old major in
full regimentals. The young fellow kept the lead and pursued his object
with dogged persistence; but the old fellow, wiser in the ways of women,
paused now and then to pour out his heart in song. My sympathies—a—
well—ahem—they used always to be with the young chap, but now
Id aetatis jam sumus.
The Bullock Oriole is either musical or noisy, but oftener both
together. Both sexes indulge a stirring rattle which seems to express
nearly every variety of emotion. Upon this the male grafts a musical
Photo by Wm. H. Wonfor
EGGS OF THE BULLOCK ORIOLE
SELECTED SPECIMENS—SAND BACKGROUND
703
The Tricolored Redwing
outcry, so that the whole approaches song. A purer song phrase more
rarely indulged in may be syllabized as follows: Cut cut cudut whee up
chooup. The last note comes sharp and clear, or, as often, trails off into
an indistinguishable jumble. The questing note, or single call, of the
male is one of the sweetest sounds of springtime, but an even more
domestic sound, chirp trap, uttered while he is trailing about after his
swinking spouse, appears ridiculously prosaic.
Once, in a mesquite grove, under the influence, I doubt not, of the
rowdy Chat, an infatuated Oriole did a clog dance across an open space.
With exaggerated laboriousness he smote his wings together over his
back half a dozen times, then dashed into a thicket, whither his Juliet
had, no doubt, preceded him. Perridiculus!
No. 18
Tricolored Redwing
A. O. U. No. 500. Agelaius tricolor (Audubon).
Synonyms.—TRICOLORED BLACKBIRD. TRICOLORED RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD
RED-AND-WHITE-SHOULDERED BLACKBIRD.
Description.—Adult male in spring: Glossy black with greenish or bluish
reflections (slightly more pronounced than in A. phoeniceus); the lesser wing-coverts
rich red (carmine —darker than in A. phoeniceus); middle coverts pure white, appearing
as a broad transverse band below the red. Bill and feet black. Adult male in fall and
winter: As in spring, but feathers lightly skirted, especially on back, pileum, sides
of neck, and breast, with rusty gray; the white of the middle wing-coverts more or less
tinged with brownish buff. Immature males: (Not seen) probably exaggerate the
characters of the adult male in autumn, and closely parallel the course of A. phoeniceus.
Yearling male in first spring: Like adult, but lesser wing-coverts tawny or brownish
red, variously admixed with black; the middle coverts wholly black, or variously mixed
black and white. Adult female in spring: Similar to that of Agelaius phoeniceus, but
more uniform in coloration and much darker; above sooty black, nearly uniform, from
back posteriorly, but with some obscure skirtings of brownish gray on head and nape;
below sooty black, nearly uniform, from breast posteriorly, although with faint skirtings
of lighter, or whitish—these skirtings sharply defined on lower tail-coverts; breast min-
gled black and whitish in about equal proportions, clearing anteriorly to white, sparingly
flecked with black on throat; an obscure whitish line over eye; lateral coloration through-
out blending the characters of upper and lower plumage; a dull ruddy element often
present in the whites, and (in older examples?) the lesser wing-coverts more or less
skirted with dark red. Adult female in autumn: Asin spring, but plumage softer and
much more extensively margined above with brownish gray, below with whitish (in this
stage closely resembling the female of A. phoeniceus in spring). Immature female: Like
adult female in autumn, but still more heavily margined; a rusty element appearing
104
Sasi,
iy
ANE
| a pemright 1981 dy BOL. Bove aie
ese aa fs
! outery, so that the whole approaches song. A purer song ont more
rarely indulged in may he syVabized as follows: Cui cut cudut whee up
chooup. The last note comes sharp and clear, or, as often, trails offinto
an indistinguishable jumble. The questing note, or single call, of the
male is one of the sweetest sounds of springtime, but an even more
domestic sound, <farp trey, uttered while he is trailing about after his
swinking spouse, appears ridiculously prosaic.
Once. in 2 mesquite grove, wacer the influence, I doubt not, of the —
rowdy Chat. an mfnisate:d Griole did a clog dance across an open space. ~
With exaggerated Taberiousness he smote his wings together over his
back nall a vidgen times, then dashed ito a thicket, whither his oe
had. ne civubt. precedes] him. Perridiculus!
Tricolored Redwing
A. GU, Ne. smo. Agelaius tricoler (Audubon).
Synonyms.—TR obs ‘Tricolored Redwing, Fem i Female = BLACKBIRD
ReD-AND-WHITE-SHOULGE
Description.—Adult male _ About % life size _ black with greenish or bluish
Fram a Photograph, copyright 1921, bythe Author. cose ying-coverts
ree carmine “darker than in A, phoeniceus); middJe coverts pure white, appearing
6s 4 Oinad transverse band below the red. Bill and feet black. Adult male in fall and
wenier; Ag in spring. bet feathers lightly skirted, especially on back, pileum, sides
(a Heok, and b with iy gray; (he white of the middle wing-coverts more or less
Aged with teswinieh . inemetiire males; (Not seen) probably exaggerate the
vatanhers in the adtuly sige vo autewen, and closely parallel the course of A. phoentceus:
5 A feeb seine: Tike adinil, but lesser wing-coverts tawny or brownish
Y dpe wird f Back The aviddle coverts wholly black, or variously mixed
whites, Anh fe aaa ist rg: Smeiior go that of Agelains phoeniceus, but
Lin tolerition and wink darker; stove sy black, nearly uniform, from
(Rid, AIH Boe obtilare Ghatings ot brseinleh agave on head and nape;
iach, eine Weaterme.. fae Sey mattevets, airaoden with faimé skir tings
? Whstist’—theac akerté Ph cee as 4 jower tall-cowerts; breast min-
tel RD aw atyurt 2 i (re ay anteriony to white, sparingly
Hinek o¢h Shtewss: ge ahyoere : ‘oer ove laverval onieration through-
zi : the chamectesy: of aaece oan ey areca a dull ruddy element often
erester ie the wining, aad Gh aéder vase?) the teseey aing-coverte siore oF less
Seis? with dork red, Addai <° ein cairns, bot plumage softer and
tidh more extensively margined eas arowoleh gray. below with whitish (in this
staged clammy resending the femate of 4, Shoreicous in spring). fmmature female: Like
atert lemake in autuma, but still more heaved marpineds a rusty element appearing.
uy
Copyright 192A by DS Dawson
The Tricolored Redwing
above.. Length about 228.6 (9.00). Av. of males: wing 121 (4.76); tail 88 (3.46);
bill 23.4 (.92); tarsus 29.7 (1.17). Av. of females: wing 106.7 (4.20); tail 75.4 (2.97);
bill 20.1 (.79); tarsus 26.4 (1.04).
Remarks.—The occurrence of this closely related but perfectly distinct type of
Agelaius in a field closely occupied by the more plastic and wide-spread phoeniceus,
offers a pretty problem to the student of geographical distribution. On the whole,
I think the presence of the buff element on the wing-coverts of the adult male in autumn
affords us the best clue to the bird’s phylogenetic history. As is commonly believed,
autumnal plumages, when distinct from the breeding plumage, mark a partial reversion,
a return to the more primitive or generalized form of the species. That the male
tricolor, therefore, should exhibit in the fall a character which marks the utmost, or
vernal, achievement of phoeniceus, indicates that the spring white of tricolor is an ad-
vance upon the primitive Agelaius type. Tricolor, that is, has evolved further in this
direction.
If this conclusion is a correct one, we may assume that tricolor was the pioneer
upon the Californian field. Coming at a much earlier day from the Mexican home of
the race, it became thoroughly established, and geneodynamically static, within its
chosen area. A succeeding wave of Agelaii. viz., phoeniceus, has since swept the
continent, nearly to the Arctic zone; but it found tricolor stubbornly intrenched. Asa
consequence, it has partly swept around the domain of tricolor, and partly invaded it,
so that we now have the phenomenon of two closely related members of the same
genus breeding in the same swamp. And with this explanation the notably primitive
behavior characters of tricolor agree.
Recognition Marks.—Towhee to robin size; red-and-white epaulets of male
distinctive. Females notably darker than those of A. phoeniceus. Closely gregarious
at all seasons. Notes quite different from those of A. phoeniceus.
Nesting.—In dense and often extended colonies. Nest: a stout basket of coarse
grasses and pliant weeds, strengthened by a thin matrix of leaves laid in wet, and lined
with coarse round grasses; lashed to stalks of narrow-leafed cattail (Typha angustifolia).
Eggs: 4; pale niagara green (called pale ‘‘blue’’). or pale olive-buff, sharply and sparingly
spotted or short-scrawled, chiefly at larger end, by brownish black (See text below).
Av. size (one each of forty sets) 24.1 x 17 (.95 x .67). Extreme examples: 30.8 x 18
(1.21 x .71), and 18.5 x 12.9 (.73 x .51). Season: May or early June; one brood.
General Range.—‘‘Pacific Coast from valleys of northwestern Oregon (west of
Cascade Range) south through California (west of Sierra Nevada) to northern Lower
California” (A. O. U.).
Distribution in California.—Resident in central and southern California
west of the Sierras; locally abundant in the Great Interior Valley, and in the San
Diegan district, north, interiorly, to Shasta County, east to Lake Tahoe (where it has
bred—Barlow), west to coast, southerly.
Authorities.—Audubon (Icterus tricolor), Ornithological Biog., vol. v., 1839,
pp- I-5 (original description from Santa Barbara, Calif.); Heermann, Journ. Acad. Nat.
Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol. ii., 1853, p. 268 (nesting habits); Henshaw, Rept. Orn. Wheeler
Surv., 1876, pp. 249-250 (nesting habits); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii.,
456-458, pl. vi., figs. 18, 19 (habits, nests and eggs); Mazlliard, J. W., Condor, vol.
Xil., 1910, pp. 31-41 (critical); Mazlliard, J., Condor, vol. xvi., 1914, pp. 204-207 (nest-
ing colony).
105
4oyny ayy XQ Oj0Y eT SGualaMOV1d AO LSUdINAL V Uno) parsayy Ur Way,
The Tricolored Redwing
TO ONE in search of something utterly different I can heartily
recommend an hour, or a day, in a Tricolor swamp. The birds are
themselves, to be sure, not so different in generic appearance from their
more familiar and widely distributed cousins, the Redwings (A gelaius
phoeniceus). Indeed, one would suppose at first sight that a plumage
difference which is practically limited to the lesser wing-coverts, white
instead of buff (or buff overlaid with black, as in A. p. californicus), would
indicate merely one of those troublesome subspecific distinctions which
practical field men wisely ignore. But such is far from being the case.
For after we have conceded the all but identity of plumage in the male
and the almost indistinguishable similarity of the eggs, we note with
real surprise that we have to do here with a bird whose song, whose
psychology and behavior, whose social arrangements, and presumed
developmental history are entirely different from those of its phoenicean
double, although the latter occupies closely the same general territory,
and oftener than not the very edges of the swamps where f¢ricolors are
wont to assemble.
Agelaius tricolor is intensely gregarious, more so perhaps than any
other American bird. Every major act of its life is performed in close
association with its fellows. Not only does it roost, or ravage grain
fields, or foregather for nesting, in hundreds and thousands, but the very
day of its nesting is agreed upon in concert. In continuous procession
the individuals of a colony repair to a field agreed upon in quest of building
material; and when the babies are clamoring the loudest for food, the
deploying foragers join their nearest fellows and return to the swamps
by platoons and volleys, rather than as individuals. The normal flock
movement is in itself distinctive. The birds fly silently, with not so much
as a rustle of wings; and they pass close to the ground, or at most at an
elevation of fifteen or twenty feet. Each member of the flock rises and
falls with each recurrent effort of the wings, quite independently of his
fellows; but there is no vacillation or disposition to break away. Each
bird is solely and ominously intent upon “getting there.”
A prosperous nesting colony of Tricolored Redwings is an enormous
affair. At the height of building activities it seems a perfect bedlam,
and the composite roar can be heard a mile away. At the same time,
one rather wonders at the mildness and restraint of the individual utter-
ance. The flock noise at its worst suggests a colony of a thousand birds,
whereas there are in reality tens of thousands—say thirty thousand birds
in a typical citadel. As one approaches the great green cover of cattails,
he is reminded of circus day in the olden time. Everybody else is going
too. Excited platoons and hurrying companies of birds sweep over the
ground with rapid undulating flight, and lose themselves immediately in
107
The Tricolored Redwing
the all-devouring green. The space immediately over the. cattails is
sometimes filled suddenly as by a volcanic irruption; but for the most
part there is a wholesale coming and going as methodical as that of ants.
Our entrance into the swamp will not occasion any general alarm.
A platoon, of say one hundred of the nearest birds, will rise as by a single
impulse, and withdraw quietly to some distant rendezvous. After a
decorous lapse of time they will return em masse prepared to resume
duties; but if they find us still busy, they will flutter a moment overhead
and then make off again. Only as incubation advances will some of the
bolder females tarry to reprove. But ever in the offing there is the gentle
roar of traffic, of life as it is lived in this wonderland of close-ranked
greenery. Heard vaguely, as a sort of composite phonograph, the
chorus of Tricolors impresses one by its quaintness, its restraint, and its
mild good nature. More attentatively examined, it seems to consist of
croaks, gurgles, squeaks, and whistles, the usual Agelaiine repertory played
with the ‘‘mute”’ on. But critical attention to the notes of tricolor
reveals a world of interest and suggestion. This mild and amiable social-
ist has preserved in speech the traditions of earlier associations and
relationships. First, there is a jup note of frequent use, which is decidedly
Quiscaline in character. Certain other call-notes are like those of their
nearest congeners, the Redwings (A. phoeniceus and varieties). But their
most characteristic song is a mild edition of the famous ‘“‘stomach-ache
song’’ of the Yellow-headed Blackbird, and as impossible of description.
While this is of commonest occurrence in the swamp, I believe the true
mating song is reserved for the official parties, which are invariably held
in treetops at some remove from the swamps. These trysts, or courting
fests, indulged in by parties of from ten to forty birds, are an established
feature of early springtime; and I believe that those which occur as late
as May or June are mere makeshifts, cramming classes for belated lovers.
Anyhow, at such time I have heard such intimate phrases as Look awaaay
choke, away awaay choke, varied by awaak or chuwaaack choke.
Then there is the queque note, entirely distinctive, and a rattle
remotely like that of a Kingfisher, only smaller and more musical. Still
another sound, impossible to characterize accurately, reminds one of a
Raven’s croak. Add to this the scolding chup of the female, which is
exactly like that of a female phoeniceus, and you have the dictionary
of tricolor compiled to date.
But what of the reeds themselves? And what of the baskets they
contain? It is a different world we have entered, a simple, separate,
mysterious realm where only the blackbirds dwell—and they have fled.
The water stands knee-deep, or mid-thigh-deep, or perchance waist-deep,
threatening ever to invade another dry inch, which the adventurer is
108
The Tricolored Redwing
loth to yield. The bottom is deliciously oozy (if you like it so, but I
prefer to keep my shoes on). ‘The serried ranks of cattails stand close, so
close that one must use a large knife to get about; and they stand so high
above that one sees no horizon,
and only guesses what may be
in the sky. And everywhere
there are nests, baskets of coiled
grasses, lashed stoutly to the
reeds. The nests, I say, are
everywhere, now at middle levels,
two or three feet above the
water, where one may peep into
them, now overhead where we
must thrust in exploratory fin-
gers, now hung perilously close
to the water where a change in
level may overwhelm them.
Now and again they crowd each
other, when two or three birds
select the same stems. Here
are two nests side by side, and
here one above another. Here
a bird has lashed her founda-
tions too high, and the top will
not go on because of a neighbor’s
foundation. No matter — try
again. Never in the American
swamps will another species of
bird furnish such generous mat-
ter for the inquisitive bird-
nester. Here, by planting one
foot for base and turning about
freely, | am able to see into six-
teen nests, all with eggs. Here,
again, I touch twenty-six nests
from one station, but I cannot
see whether they are all occupied.
In the interests of compara- Photo by the Author
tive oology, the writer has ex- Peete
amined some 3500 nests of this Blackbird in the course of several seasons,
but chiefly in that of 1916. The study resulted not only in a handsome and
109
The Tricolored Redwing
instructive series of
eggs, but in the re-
cognition of some facts
which must have
escaped attention in
a more restricted
search. Thus, ab-
normal or “freak”’
eggs, whether re-
markable for size or
shape or color, were
found to be, almost
without exception, the
first laid of a given
clutch. It is known,
by now, that the
secretion of pigment
is not always exactly
correlated in time with
the deposition of the
limy coat of the egg.
If the activities of the
pigment cells outrun
those of shell secre-
tion, an accumulated
and excess amount of
color will be deposited
upon the first egg
which presents itself
for decoration. On
the other hand, the
Taken in Merced County Photo by the Author
LIFE IN THE REEDY MAZES first egg may find the
FEMALE TRICOLORS ABOVE, MALE BELOW pigment cells belated,
and may escape without a touch of color. This, I say, was well known.
But it was more surprising to find that runts and giants, fusiforms, and
other eccentrics, are usually first attempts. The exception was the case
of last-laid eggs in sets abnormally large. Four eggs being the stern
rule of A. tricolor, sets of five or six were pretty sure to contain an egg
structurally weak. The lime had played out. Of the only set of seven
found, one egg collapsed in the nest, and another in being transferred to
the collecting box.
Abnormality, I take it, may be a result of the exertions attendant
ZIO
The Tricolored Redwing
upon nest-building. In 1916, especially, nesting (in the San Joaquin
Valley) had been delayed by an unusual cold spell accompanied by
west winds. When at last, about May 2oth, nest-building was undertaken
in spite of adverse weather conditions, many of the birds were overtaken
with the duties of motherhood before the nests were finished. Eggs
were deposited upon the undried muck, which affords the stiffening, or
body, for the tricolor’s basket. In most cases the nest was neatly lined
with coiled grasses after the first egg was deposited, but a few birds
immediately abandoned work upon the nest and left all their eggs upon
a bare mud bottom. Others carefully worked the lining material under
the egg or eggs. Many more, however, in their zeal for completing the
nest in proper style, overlooked or failed to meet the claims of the eggs,
and neglected to raise them with the new flooring. As a result, buried
and half-buried eggs were very common. Some nests would contain one
egg quite buried, another half buried, and two quite clear.
The nesting material is invariably laid on wet. This assures not
only pliability in working, but rigidity in the finished product. Although
I had always a wholesome respect for the ingenuity of these weavers, I
received a most impressive lesson upon a late occasion. In the course of a
laborious piece of census work, I had selected four choice sets of eggs for
color variation, placing them, duly marked, for convenient carriage, in an
empty nest, and covering them with another. Upon emerging from
the swamp and crossing a bit of dry ground in the open, the basket bowl
with its precious contents was suddenly snatched from my hand and
precipitated to the ground. A long strand of grass had gradually un-
wound itself from the under nest until it trailed upon the ground, and
I had stepped on it. So stout was the strand and so deeply was it
imbedded into the structure of the nest that it tore the whole lot from
my hand in a trice. Nearly every egg was smashed. The strand was
five feet long, by measure, all once neatly coiled in the foundation of the
blackbird’s nest.
Unlike the eggs of most other birds, those of the Redwings (A gelaius
sp.) are much handsomer after blowing than before. The semi-transpar-
ence of the blue shell allows the brilliant orange of the yolk to show
through, thus producing a dirty, muddy, sickly color, which is anything
but inviting. Cleared of this clashing orange, however, the Redwings’
eggs, for such time as they do not fade, are of the handsomest.
The eggs of the Tricolored Redwing are normally of a pale niagara
green tint, sharply and sparingly marked—small-blotched or short-
scrawled—with an intense brownish black pigment. The variation, not
in the quality but in the application of this single pigment, determines
LUTEAL
doyIny ay? &Q ONT AONACGIAD ONIOVNVG JUNO pada Wt UIyD.L
The Tricolored Redwing
the highly varied results secured. Often the pigment is shadowed, or
‘““washed,”’ along its edges, revealing thus its brown character. Not
infrequently a tinge of the pigment is suffused throughout the shell, and
we get such basic tints as glaucous, yellowish glaucous, ‘‘tilleul buff,”’
and even deep olive-buff. Again, and more rarely, the pigment is spread
about superficially, in whole or in part, paling thus to vinaceous buff, or
fawn-color. In two instances in the M. C. O. collections the color appears
as a uniform vinaceous clouding on a warm buff ground; and in one of
these the freckling is so minute and so uniform as to render the egg almost
indistinguishable from that of a Yellow-headed Blackbird.
While I have not been able to detect any constant or divisive element
in local variations, i.e., no tendency to the formation of races; it is very
instructive to note the power of the localized or neighborhood sentiment
in the determination of the nesting dates. Thus, in a small colony, say
one of 2000 pairs, every nest will be at approximately the same stage of
construction on a given date. On a given day, four-fifths of the nests
will contain one, and only one, egg, etc. On the other hand, a large
colony, say one of 40,000 birds, will be divided up into a dozen separate
clans, or behavior groups. In one section of the swamp the investigator
will find only fresh-laid foundations; in another, nests with one egg each;
in another, perchance, full sets well advanced in incubation. I can only
account for this on the supposition that the nesting colony grows by
accretion. Day after day new groups from the outside join themselves
to the nesting, and immediately set to work on the occupation of some
closely contiguous section of reeds. The nesting is, thus, a sort of con-
tinuous Chatauqua, with fresh delegations arriving daily and_ being
assigned to reserved sections.
This supposition receives striking confirmation from an experience
recorded by Mr. John G. Tyler, of Fresno!. At a point some thirty
miles southwest of the city, Mr. Tyler found a colony of Tricolors
occupying a dense but restricted patch of nettles. The center of the
patch, where the cover was densest and presumably most desirable, the
nests held young birds. Surrounding this choicest area was one 1n which
the nests held incubated eggs. And so, moving progressively outwards,
the cover dwindled and the eggs freshened, until the last comers were
actually building their nests upon the ground without protection of any
sort—gallery seats and standing room only.
It goes almost without saying that the farmers are not enthusiastic
about this Summer Assembly of Blackbirds. It takes a very considerable
ration to supply the wants of so many picnickers. Either because the
morning hours are filled with labor, or because the grain is more easily
1“The Condor,”’ Vol. IX., Nov. 1907, pp. 177-178.
113
The Red-winged Blackbirds
Taken in Merced County Photo by the Author
BIRDS AND RUSHES
extracted at midday, high noon seems to be the appointed time for on-
slaught upon the grain fields. At such a time one may see countless
thousands of blackbirds moving over the face of the fields with the in-
exorability of a threshing gang. The empty heads of oats or barley
attest the fact that the birds are not looking for weevils. As in the reputed
flock behavior of the Passenger Pigeon, there is always a vanguard working
into new territory, as well as a steady stream of detached bevies making
their way to and from the main camp. To say that the damage in-
flicted by these birds is inconsiderable is to prevaricate, and to invite
ridicule. In especial, rice-growing, which might be developed into a
leading industry in certain water-favored sections of the San Joaquin
Valley, is at a standstill, and will be until ssuelalle relief is afforded from
the depredations of blackbirds.
No. 19
Red-winged Blackbird
No. 19a San Diego Redwing
A. O. U. No. 498e part. Agelaius phoeniceus neutralis Ridgway.
Synonyms.—San DrEGO REDWING. RED-SHOULDERED BLACKBIRD. SWAMP
REDWING. MaArsH BLACKBIRD.
Description.—Briefly: Male in spring: Plumage glossy black; the lesser wing-
coverts red; the middle coverts ochraceous orange. Female: General plumage streaked
dusky and white; above dusky bordered with grayish and dull ochraceous; below heavily
streaked or striped dusky and white, clearing (nearly spotless) on chin and upper
throat. More particularly (Descriptions based on 12 spring adults, 6 males and 6
Il4
Photo by the Author
rapointed time for on-
ese countless
with the in-
ieee te barley
As in the reputed
, $a Vanguard working
bite mew territory, a2 ss at wa of detached bevies making
their way ( 2 Bieolored Red WIM. that the damage i
Hieted hy these bires " Malevendsdiaie ile; about 9%; lifeysize 4 yjca te, and to invite
From ia water-color painting. by Major Allan Brooks oped into a
leading industry in certain water-iavored sections of the San Joaquin
Valley, is at a standstill, and will be until sensible relief is afforded from
the depredations of blackbirds. :
19
Red-winged Blackbird
: 12 San Diego Redwing
5 ORE Rens wt Ageisius phwenicois neutralis Ridgway.
Rete = [RHE RRO SR GUIDERED BLACWERIRD.
Re saatigh Gus Bape ¢ :
ik Pinmage glossy black; the lesser wing-
inverts ved: phe mid rere taupeue wvange, #emale: General plumage streake
dee Ww aut whate abot Gaiety bes wile grayink and dull ochraceous; below heavily”
fipbawed ay ofripe? dusk: oad elite. cheering. (meacdy sppeltes) on chin and upper
throst. Afare. gacieainzis (Deeormaes sae an 12 spring adults, 6 males\and 6
fi¢
The Red-winged Blackbirds
females, from the San Diegan district. Characterization of immature and fall plumage
partly inferential): Adult male in spring: Glossy black with faint bluish or greenish
reflections; the lesser wing-coverts scarlet-red, or spectrum red, the middle coverts
(largely concealed) ochraceous buff to ochraceous tawny, often shading on tips to
whitish; or sometimes sharply tipped with black; the exposed portion of middle coverts
forming a transverse bar 3 to 8 millimeters in width. Bill and feet black. Adult male
in fall and winter: As in spring, but feathers of upperparts lightly (sometimes sides of
neck, breast, and sides very lightly) fringed or tipped with light rusty or ochraceous
buff; the black of middle wing-coverts, if present, also buffy-tipped. Immature male:
Like adult male in autumn, but with strong increase of marginal edgings of ochraceous;
markings heavier above, lighter below, but only throat, crissum, and tail immaculate;
the lesser wing-coverts orange or tawny with skirtings of black; middle coverts entirely
black, tipped with buffy white. Increasing age is marked by increasing redness of
the lesser wing-coverts, so that only the oldest males achieve spectrum redness. Adult
female in spring: Above grayish brown or fuscous, the head, neck, and back edged with
light brownish gray and whitish; the feathers of wings, both coverts and flight feathers,
narrowly and variously (according to age) margined with whitish and dull brownish
gray; an obscure whitish line over eye; underparts heavily dusky-and-white-streaked,
the dusky element preponderating posteriorly, the white anteriorly (the streaks become
finer on throat and almost disappear on upper throat); a slight rosy or pinkish element
manifest in the whites anteriorly. Bill dark horn-color above, much lighter below;
legs and feet dusky brown. Adult female in autumn: As in spring, but marked by
increase of an ochraceous element throughout, this element appearing as buffy suffusion
in whites of underparts. Jmmature female: Like adult female and not certainly
distinguishable. Young birds: Resemble the adu t female in autumn, but are more
distinctly yellowish, especially on sides of head and underparts. Length of males
about 228.6 (9.00). Av. of 6 adult males in M. V. Z. coll: wing 125.2 (4.93); tail 90
(2.54); bill, length 22.2 (.87); depth at base 12.2 (.48); depth at nostril 9.2 (.36); tarsus
29.8 (1.17). Av. of 6 adult females: wing 99.7 (3.92); tail 71.4 (2.81); bill, length 18.1
(.71); depth at base 10.3 (.40); depth at nostril 8.2 (.32); tarsus 26.2 (1.03).
Recognition Marks.—Towhee to Robin size; red shoulder-patch bordered by
buff, of male; general streaky appearance, dusky-and-white, of female.
Nesting of Agelaius phoeniceus— Nest: A neatly woven but rather bulky
basket of grasses, cattail leaves, or weed bark, usually lashed to upright stalks of cattail,
or occasionally, in willows or other bushes, and in rank herbage; occasionally also
nesting upon the ground, but if so, always supported upon the sides by vegetation.
Eggs (in California): 3 or 4, rarely 5; normally pale bluish green, more rarely pale olive
buff, marked boldly and sparingly, often in broad scrawls and zigzags, and chiefly
about the larger end, with brownish or purplish black. Av. size 24.4 x 17.3 (.96 x .68).
California specimens average smaller than those of phoeniceus phoeniceus. Season:
April-June; two broods.
Range of Agelaius phoeniceus.—North America from British Columbia, central
Mackenzie, and Quebec, south to Costa Rica.
Range of A. p. neutralis—Undefined; may include southwestern United States
from western Texas to the Pacific, except lower Colorado River, etc. (range of A. p.
sonoriensis); or may, not impossibly, be confined to southwestern California (leaving
birds of remaining areas to be redescribed).
Distribution in California.—Southern portion of State west of desert divide
northward, coastally at least to Parallel 36°, interiorly to southern portion of Tulare
I15
The Red-winged Blackbirds
Basin, thence intergrading indeterminably with californicus upon the north, and acicu-
latus upon the northeast.
Authorities.—Gambel, Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol. i., 1847, p. 48
(part); Henshaw, Rept. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1876, p. 276 (critical); Beal, Bull. Div.
Biol. Surv., no. 13, 1900, pp. 44-45 (part) (food); Ridgway, Proc. Wash. Acad. Sci.,
vol. iii., 1901, pp. 153, 154 (description and range of neuwtralis); Daggett, Condor, vol. v.,
1903, p. 52 (critical).
No. 19b Sonora Redwing
A. O. U. No. 498a. Agelaius phoeniceus sonoriensis Ridgway.
Description.—Similar to A. p. neutralis, but male slightly larger and with
slenderer bill. The adult female lighter, with streaks more strongly contrasted above,
those of lower parts rather narrower and not so dark, the upperparts more extensively
rusty. Measurements, 13 specimens (after Ridgway): Wing 125.5 (4.90); tail 93.5
(3.68); bill 23.9 (.94); depth at base 12.4 (.49); tarsus 30.5 (1.20). 24 adult females:
Wing 98.8 (3.89); tail (17 birds) 72.9 (2.87); bill 19.8 (.78); depth at base 9.9 (.39);
tarsus 26.7 (1.05).
Range of A. p. sonoriensis—Southeastern California, southwestern Arizona (at
least the valleys of the Gila and lower Colorado rivers), and the coastal plains of Sonora
south to Tepic.
Distribution in California.—Resident in the Imperial Valley, on the Colorado
Desert west (at least) to Mecca, and in the valley of the Colorado River north (at least)
to Needles (Grinnell).
Authorities.—Gambel, Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol. i., 1847, p. 48;
Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, p. 453; Ridgway, Proc. Wash. Acad.
Sci., vol. iii., 1901, p. 154 (range); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., vol. 12, 1914, pp.
922
161-163 (crit.; range; habits); Howell and van Rossem, Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, p. 233.
No. 19¢ Nevada Redwing
A. O. U. No. 498e, part. Agelaius phoeniceus nevadensis Grinnell.
Description.—‘‘In shape of bill and other general characters closely similar to
A. p. sonoriensis; male scarcely distinguishable, but female conspicuously darker
colored, on account of the great 1elative breadth of black streaking both above and
below; in this respect similar to female of A. p. caurinus, but bright rusty edgings on
back and wing replaced by ashy and pale ochraceous; bill in male of caurinus more
slender than in either sonoriensis or nevad:nsts.’’ (Orig. descr.).
Range of A. p. nevadensis—Undefined. Originally described from northern
Nevada, nevadensis is presumed to be the breeding form of the Great Basin region, and
of the Columbian Plateau north into British Columbia.
Distribution in California.—The plateau region of northeastern California
and the eastern slopes of the Sierras south (at least) to Lone Pine.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xxvil., 1914, pp. 107-108
(original description).
No. 19d Northwestern Redwing
A. O. U. No. 498f. Agelaius phoeniceus caurinus Ridgway.
Description.—Similar to A. p. nevadensis, and males distinguishable only by
somewhat slenderer bills; but females show slight increase of the ruddy element in the
116
The Red-winged Blackbirds
under whites, and are more extensively rusty-bo dered above (recalling in this respect
A. p. sonoriensis). Measurements, 9 adult males (Ridgway): Wing 123.2 (4.85); tail
91.7 (3.61); bill 24.4 (.96); depth at base 11.7 (.46); tarsus 29.5 (1.16). Of 9 females
Wing 103.1 (4.06); tail 77.5 (3.05); bill 20.8 (.82); tarsus 26.9 (1.06).
Range of A. p. caurinus.—Northwest Coast district from British Columbia south
to Mendocino County, California.
Distribution in California.—Occurs sparingly (presumably resident) in the
northwestern humid coastal strip.
Authorities.—Ridgway, Proc. Wash. Acad. Sci., vol. iii., 1901, pp. 153-154
(original description; in Mendocino Co., May 20): Stone, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
1904, p. 582 (Mt. Sanhedrin); Mailliard, J., Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 199 (nesting
at Humboldt Bay).
<i
Taken in Washington Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF THE NORTHWESTERN REDWING
No 19e Kern Redwing
A. O. U. No. 498e part. Agelaius phoeniceus aciculatus Mailliard.
Description.—‘‘Similar to Agelaius phoeniceus neutralis, but of larger size, feet
averaging somewhat larger; but chiefly characterized by a longer, and comparatively
more slender bill than any other form of this genus in the United States’’ (Orig. Desc.).
Av. of 21 males: Wing 126.2 (4.97); tail 92.4 (3.63); bil 27.2 (1.07); depth at base 12.4
(.49); tarsus 29.5 (1.16). Of 11 females: Wing 113.9 (4.48); tail 76.3 (3.00); bill 22.
(.90); depth at base 11 (.43); tarsus 25.7 (1.01).
Range (wholly included within California)—East-central Kern County.
117
The Red-winged Blackbirds
Authorities.—Mailliard, J., Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, p. 13 (orig. desc.) ; ibid.,
pp. 228-230 (distribution) ; Grinnell and Storer, in Rules and Regl. Yosemite Natl. Park,
1920, p. 52 (in Yosemite Valley).
No. 19f Bicolored Redwing
A. O. U. No. 499. Agelaius phoeniceus californicus Nelson.
Description.—Similar to A. p. neutralis, but male usually without, or with
relatively small, exposure of ochraceous buff on middle wing coverts, the feathers
broadly tipped with black instead (in extreme examples the feathers are black for the
distal two-thirds, so that their ochraceous portion is not only completely overlaid by
the red lesser coverts, but has a wide ‘‘margin of safety’’ so far as exposure is con-
cerned). Adult female: Scarcely different from that of A. p. neutralis. The tra-
dition of a darker bird is based on examples of A. tricolor, which have been widely
confused with those of this species. Dimensions not conspicuously different in any
respect from those of A. p. neutralis, although bills of extreme bicolored examples may
average somewhat stouter.
Remarks.—The “‘Bicolored Blackbird”’ was long counted a subspecies of Agelaius
gubernator, a form found centrally in the southwestern portion of the Mexican plateau.
The resemblance between the males is indeed a striking one, but the females are quite
different, the assumption of resemblance having been based in part upon examples of A.
tricolor, which is excessively common throughout the region occupied by A. p. californt-
cus. It is conceivable that both gubernator and californi-us alike derive from wr-
phoeniceus, but the hypothesis of a direct line of connection between them is discredited
by three factors. In the first place the proportions of gubernator are quite different from
those of western phoenicez, while those of californicus follow them closely. The ranges
of the two forms are not only discontinuous, but they are separated by a space of a
thousand miles, the northern portion of which is closely occupied by connected forms of
phoeniceus. And, lastly, and most conclusively, californicus intergrades with the
surrounding forms of phoeniceus in almost every conceivable degree.
Range of A. p. californicus ‘wholly contained within California).—Resident in
the central portion of California west of the Sierras and roughly tributary to the San
Francisco Bay region, north at least to Sonoma County and interiorly to Tehama
County, east to western foothills of the Sierras. south coastwise to about Parallel 36,—
interiorly, and typically, possibly not further south than Stanislaus County.
Authorities.—Vigors, Zoology of Beechey’s Voyage, 1839, p. 21; Heermann,
Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. x., pt. iv., 1859, p. 53 (nest and eggs); Bendire, Life Hist.
N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 455-456, pl. vi., figs. 16, 17 (habits, nest and eggs);
Mailliard, J., Condor, vol. xi., 1909, pp. 127-128 (nesting; food habits); vol. xii., 1910,
pp. 63-70, 2 figs. (critical study); Mazlliard, J. W., Condor, vol. xii., 1910, pp. 39-41
(comparison with tricolor); Beal, Biol. Survey Bull., no. 34, 1910, pp. 56-59 (food).
SPRING herself being listed as a ‘‘ winter resident’’ in California, we
are never quite certain when the official season does open. Certainly
not, as elsewhere, with the coming of the Redwings. Such as are not
already resident in the State, arrive from the North in late autumn, and
spend the winter with us. Neither their comings nor their goings are as
conspicuous with us as they are in the North; but if in mid-February or
early March we come upon a boisterous company of Redwings crowding
IIS
The Red-winged Blackbirds
a treetop, we may be sure that they are
mustering for the northern journey.
What a world of jubilation there is in
their voluble whistlings and chirpings
and gurglings, a wild medley of con-
quest which will strike terror to the
faltering heart of that northern winter.
A sudden hush falls upon the company
as the birdman draws near the tree
in which they are swarming; but a
dusky maiden pouts, ‘““Who cares?” and
they all fall to again, hammer and
tongs, timbrel, pipes, and hautboy.
Brewer’s Blackbirds and Cowbirds oc-
casionally make common cause with the
Redwings in the northern migrations,
but it is always the last-named who
preponderate, and it is they who are
most vivacious, most resplendent, and
most nearly musical. The Redwing’s Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
mellow kongqueree or occasional tipsy
whoop-er-way-up is the life of the party.
Our more prosaic resident birds will yield more gradually to the
seductions of springtime. Native Sons require to be shown wherein one
day is better than another for the undertaking of that most important
business of life, nesting. As a consequence, southerly ranging Redwings
take small advantage, if any, of their earlier chances.
Once upon a time the bird-man was sitting, Turk-fashion, on a great
mossy log which ran far out into the rustling depths of a northern swamp.
The April sun flooded the scene with warm light, and made one blink like
a blissful, drowsy frog, while the marsh sent up a grateful incense of
curling vapor. A pocket lunch of bread and cheese was the ostensible
occasion of this noontide bliss, but victuals had small charms beside those
of the sputtering Tule Wrens, who played hide-and-seek among the
stems, or the dun Coots, who sowed their pulque pulque pulque notes
along the reedy depths.
Upon this scene of marshy content burst a vision of Phoenicean
splendor, Caurinus I., the military satrap of Paludia, the authentic
generalissimo of Blackbirds. He was a well-aged bird, and as is the
proper way with feathered folk, resplendent in proportion to his years.
His epaulets seemed a half larger again than others, and their scarlet was
of the brightest hue, contrasting with a black mantle which fairly shone.
A NEVADA REDWING
IG
The Red-winged Blackbirds
He took pains that I should see them, too, and guess his rank, for these
decorations were ostentatiously uplifted as the bearer slowly descended
through the air. He appeared an amiable old fellow, and as he lighted
ponderously on an uplifted branch of my tree, he remarked, ‘‘ Whoo-kuswee-
’
ung,’’ so hospitably that I felt impelled to murmur, “Thanks,’’ and
assured him of my unhostile intent. ‘‘Conqueree?’’ he questioned,
richly. ‘‘Er—well, yes, if you are the conqueror.”
But the general had other interests to watch. An upstart male of
the second year, with shoulder-straps of a sickly orange hue, was descried
a rod away climbing hand-over-hand up a cat-tail stem. Keyring,
keyring, the despot warned him; and because the presumptuous youth
did not heed him quickly enough, he launched his splendor over the
spot, whereat the youth sank in dire confusion. And next, our hero
caught sight of a female, fair to look upon, peeping at him furtively from
behind her lattice of reeds. To see was to act. He flung his heart at the
maiden upon the instant, and followed headlong after, through I know
not what reedy mazes. Oh, heart ever young, and pursuit never weary-
ing!
An annual visit to the cattail swamp is as necessary as a birthday
to the life of any well-regulated bird-lover. The reedy mazes grow
ever dearer year by year, and the chorus of expostulating blackbirds,
which is their inevitable accompaniment, renews our racial youth as if
by magic. We must not forget the date of first nesting, April 15th, for
almost before we know it, our friends to the number of a dozen pairs or
more, have taken up their residence in the old cattail swamp—nowhere
else, if you please, unless driven to it—and here a dozen baskets of match-
less weave are swung, or lodged, midway of growing plants. Our distant
approach has been commented upon from the tops of bordering willows
by keyrings and other notes. Now at close range, the lordly male, he of
the brilliant epaulets and the proper military swagger, shakes out his fine
clothes and says, Kongqueree, in a voice wherein anxiety is quite out-
weighed by vanity and proffered good-fellowship withal. But if we push
roughly through the outlying sedges, anxiety obtains the mastery. There
is a hubbub in the marsh. Bustling, frowsy females appear and scold us
roundly. The lazy gallants are all fathers now, and they join direful
threats to courteous expostulations as they flutter wildly about our
intruding heads. To the residual small-boy in us the chance of calling
out these frantic attentions is irresistible, even though no harm is in-
tended, or done. Perhaps we love to play the part of bogey, that we
may rejoice in our own restraint. Perhaps we perceive, if we stop to
think at all, that our own anxieties may be as mildly amusing to some
benevolent Presence, and as ill-founded.
I20
The Red-winged Blackbirds
The Redwings of the phoeniceus type do not colonize closely, as do
those of the tricolor group. If nests occur within ten or fifteen feet of
each other, it is only because the cover is limited. The birds delight
rather to scatter, one, say, to every fifty feet or so, that each may have a
little freeway, or sphere of influence. Especially at second nesting, which
is undertaken late in May or early in June, the birds are apt to deploy
into the fields, now grown with weeds. Beds of wild mustard are favorite
places of resort and of nest-building. Isolated tussocks of sedge or wire-
grass, Kern greasewood even, are not despised. Willows may be resorted
to as the swamps dry up; and H. F. Duprey records! interesting instances
of their nesting in live
oak trees. At Los
Banos I found that
the Redwing nested in
April in the cattails
and tules, but forsook
this cover in May,
nesting at this season
by preference in the
overgrown meadows.
Especially numerous
were the nests lashed
centrally to the stems
of growing dock
plants. These were
sought, apparently, for
the shade they afford-
ed, and irrespective of
the fact that the rising
flood waters engulfed
many, season by
season.
Few eggs exceed
in beauty those of the
Red-winged Black-
bird. The back-
ground is a pale bluish
green of great deli-
cacy, and upon this
occur sharply-defined
spots, marblings,
Taken in Los Angeles County Photo by Donald R. Dickey
Sept., 1907, pp. 149-152. NEST AND EGGS OF THE SAN DIEGO REDWING
HAN
“The Condor,”’ Vol. IX.,
The Red-winged Blackbirds
traceries, and ‘“‘pen-work”’ of dark sepia, purplish black, drab, and helio-
trope purple. Or a spot of color appears to be deeply imbedded in the
fine, strong texture of the shell, and carries about it an aura of diminish-
ing color. Occasionally, the whole egg is suffused with pale brownish,
or, more rarely, it is entirely unmarked.
Incubation lasts fourteen days and the young are ready to leave the
nest in a little over two weeks more. They are frizzly, helpless, com-
plaining little
creatures, but if
they cannot fly well
they can clamber,
and they cling with
the grip of terrified
monkeys.
Of course the
Redwings are the
self-appointed
guardians of the
swamp. They are
not less jealous of
unlicensed avian in-
truders than of
Photo by Donald R. Dickey SUNS, Sommetenines
BABY ALL ALONE! ; : F they fail to discrimi-
nate, and their
pugnacity leads either to ridiculous or dangerous lengths. Once, at Los
Banos, I saw a company of Bicolored Redwings set upon an unoffending
Marsh Hawk, a handsome blue male bird who was attending strictly to
his own business. The big fellow stood the abuse for a while, then, quick
as a flash, seized a blackbird in his talons and bore it away. A moment
later, to our astonishment, he released the little bully, who flew off promptly
and, let us hope, gratefully. It was just as though the Marsh Hawk had
purposely restrained his power, and had done it all to teach the saucy
little fellows a salutary lesson.
At another time a rascally Redwing was seen taking after a pair of
Shovellers, as they rose from the creek. His act could have meant
scarcely more than bravado, but, once launched, he seemed to find
delight in the fact that the ducks would fly from him, and that he could
nearly keep up with them. It was all as silly as little Willie playing at
horse with Grandpa. The old gentleman prances off in mock terror, and
little Willie toddles after shrieking with glee. Round and round and up
L22
The Red-winged Blackbirds
and down, pursued the black imp, to our great astonishment, and why
he ever stopped, the brave mannikin! I do not know.
Of the physical differences which distinguish the five Californian
races, enough has been said above. The subject is a very technical one,
of little interest to the general reader. The differences in habit are, so
far as noted, merely those of adaptation to a highly varied setting. But
it is well to admonish the observer who cares to pursue this subject
further, that an interesting field opens up in the comparative study of
Agelaiine songs. There are undoubtedly in this group provincialisms of
speech even more distinctive than the variations of the buff shoulder-
band. It may be that ‘“‘races”’ still more localized and restricted can be
made out by philological methods. Anyhow, a practiced ear, wherever
it goes, can note differences. For example, there is a colony in the San
Joaquin River whose Konqueree note becomes Kaweeero, with a drawl
and a roll to the er which is quite engaging and distinctive. The dink
note, also, in this group has lost much of its music, and has become a mere
noisy chup. On the lower Pajaro River, in Monterey County, the local
Redwings exhibit notable differences. Their dink note is smaller, the
kongqueree thinner, and, above all, they have a subdued chup, which
sounds like nothing else so much as that of one of the Estreldid finches,
or “‘Waxbills.”’
The Red-winged Blackbird eats insects and grain—chiefly the latter
when it can be obtained. There has been much learned “‘investigation”’
of the food habits of this and related species, usually summarized as a
suspended verdict, or else concluded with a lame apology for manifest
faults, in view of no less manifest (but less remembered) virtues. But
why blink the facts? In grain-growing sections contiguous to favorable
breeding grounds, blackbirds do immense damage, whether to sprouting
grain or grain in the ear. The only remedy is fo protect the crops. If the
crops are really worth anything, it will pay the rancher to maintain an
armed patrol about his field during the critical seasons of seeding (and
sprouting) and ripening. The residual blackbirds will still do some harm,
but very wild blackbirds will do less harm than birds fed out of the hand.
And remember, with equal fairness, that every bird kept out of the oat
field with a whole skin is worth a dollar a year to the alfalfa crop.
123
The Yellow-headed Blackbird
No. 20
Yellow-headed Blackbird
A. O. U. No. 497. Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus (Bonaparte).
Description.—A dult male in breeding plumage: General body color black; also
space about bill, including eye, black; remainder of head, neck and throat and breast,
broadly rich yellow (straw-yellow to wax-yellow, or primuline yellow in younger examples;
light cadmium, or even cadmium-yellow in older birds); a dab of yellow on the vent, and
occasionally touches on the lower tibiae; a large white patch near edge of wing formed
by the primary coverts and three or four outermost feathers of the greater coverts, but
interrupted by black alula. Bill and feet black. In anything but the highest plumage
the yellow of the pileum and sides of neck is mo e or less skirted with black. Adult
female: Brownish dusky, lighter, browner, anteriorly; a line ove~ eye, and throat,
outlining yellow malar patch, whitish; the chest dull yellow mingled with brown; no
white on wing. Fall specimens show increase of yellow on chest; line over eye, malar
patch, and throat, more or less yellow. Immature males resemble the adult female,
but are blacker. In first spring they exhibit intermediary characters, and do not assume
full plumage until the second season. Length of adult male about 266.7 (10.50); wing
I41I (5.55); tail 102 (4.01); bill 23 (.90); tarsus 36 (1.42). Length of female about 228.6
(9.00); wing 114 (4.49); tail 82 (3.19); bill 20 (.78); tarsus 30 (1.18).
Recognition Marks.—Robin size: black, with yellow foreparts and white
wing-patches. Always enough yellow about females or immatures to indicate species.
Nesting.— Nest: a bulky but tidy basket of dried grasses, reeds, or cattails,
lashed to growing ones; lined with coarse, flattened grasses, or variously, and deeply
cupped. £ggs: 4, grayish or greenish white as to ground, but often nearly buried by
dots and spots of brown (mikado brown, snuff-brown, warm sepia, etc.); more rarely
wreathed or cloud-capped with brown. Av. size, 25.8 x 17.9 (1.02 x .71). Season: May
or June; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding from southern British Colum-
bia, southern Mackenzie, northern Minnesota, southern Wisconsin, and northern Indiana,
south to California and Mexico; wintering from southern California, Arizona, and
southwestern Louisiana, to’. Michoacan and Puebla, Mexico. Accidental in Middle
and Eastern States.
Distribution in California——Common breeder in the San Joaquin-Sacramento
basin, and throughout the area east of the Sierras and north of the desert; of irregular
and local occurrence as a breeder elsewhere, save in the mountains and in the north-
western coastal section: Whitewater, May 27, 1913; Goleta Marshes, Nigger Slough,
Bear Lake (Morcom). Winters sparingly and irregularly in southern California and on
the deserts; of more general distribution during migration—one record for Santa Cruz
Island.
Authorities.—Gambel (A gelaius xanthocephalus), Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
ser. 2, vol. 1., 1847, p. 48; Heermann, Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol. ii., 1853,
p. 268 (nesting); Henshaw, Rept. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1879, p. 301 (nesting habits);
Bendire, Life Hist. N. Amer. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 446-449, pl. vi., figs. 10-12 (habits,
nest and eggs); Beal, Bull. Div. Biol. Survey, no. 13, 1900, pp. 30-33 (food).
124
-—
No, 20
Yellow-headed Blackbird
Be: Ve Ne aa Xanthocephabus santhocephaius (Bonaparte).
Bieaprigtion.- oe eid aioe ee Tereer diag piemia ge: General body color black; also
; bee: résioanl aelinr oi head, neck and throat and breast,
», oy primuline yellow in younger examples;
5 : ter Sivtis): a dab of yellow on the vent, and
sagt ales | 7Ax : ae ti Gosts).¢ Laie ware patch near edge of wing formed
Wig) the GRRE pvredioss: aks 4 vy Sut sa vanbat feathers of the greater coverts, but
inkerraene bs Shael: ait } te bP a we 3 but the highest plumage
ae 3 ies Shivted with black. Adult
nv one eve, and throat,
ng with brown; no
ova eye, malar
kei: petal female,
Gi. wd Gee vet assume
Ste AS 7 (99.59); wing
if leer about 228.6
gran
teecaris and white
to tmeheate species. |
wae asees, reeds, or cattails, _
Prema water: : rook Svariously, and deeply —~
3 z cae ne ee ae pe ai hy Ae oiten nearly buried by
Be spate at Theown: iinet oh, Enuiihrewse; Wavin sepia, efc.); more rarely
Fier or vhane-« ic i with brews. Aa. sive, 23.8 x 17:9 (1.02 x .71).” Seasons’ May
chine. ase brosd ; j
tanerel Range Western North America, breeding from southern British Colum-
his, seeuthwen Mackeugie, northerti Minnesata, southern Wisconsin, and northern Indiana,
Mth to tattecaw acd: Mexico; wintering from southern California; Arizona, and).
ty’ Micheacan and Puebla,” Mexico, Accidental in Middle
abioraia.—Compion breeder in the San Joaquin-Sacramento~
‘Su cast oF the Sierras and north of the desert; of irregular’
blecehave, gave in the mountains and in the north-
oy May 2 Gta) Caoleta, Marshes, Nigger) Slough).
esol and Wregulorty in southern California and on
sia) ery: migraiion—dne record for Santa Cruz,
saitihare phates). Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
eas Ava. Nat, Sch Phila.) ser..2, vol. i. 1853,
Wier Rae. 1890). ip: 301 (nesting habits);
i ST Ey: 4a6- 449, pl. vir, figs. 10-12 (habits,
yi, BES. AL Heim, pp, 30-33 (food):
The Yellow-headed Blackbird
OH, WELL for the untried nerves that the Yellow-headed Blackbird
sings by day, when the sun is shining brightly, and there are no supporting
signs of a convulsion of Nature! Verily, if love affected us all in similar
shion, the world would be a merry mad-house. The Yellow-head is an
Lena)
a
Photo by the Author
NEST OF YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRD IN TULE
125
The Yellow-headed Blackbird
extraordinary person—you are prepared for that once you catch sight of
his resplendent gold-upon-black livery—but his avowal of the tender
passion is a revelation of incongruity. Grasping a reed firmly in both
fists, he leans forward, and, after premonitory gulps and gasps, succeeds
in pressing out a wail of despairing agony which would do credit to a
dying catamount. When you have recovered from the first shock, you
strain the eyes in astonishment that a mere bird, and a bird in love at
that, should give rise to such a cataclysmic sound. But he can do it
again, and his neighbor across the way can do as well—or worse. When
your nerves have somewhat recovered, modesty overcomes you, and you
retire, not without a chastened sense of privilege that you have lived to
hear the Yellow-head pop the question,—‘‘and also you lived after.”’
The expiring Romeo cry is quite the finest of the Xanthocephaline
repertory, but there are others not devoid of interest. Oh-eh-ah-oh-oo
is a musical series of startling brilliancy, comparable in a degree to the
yodelling of a street urchin,—a succession of sounds of varying pitches,
produced as though by altering the oral capacity. It may be noted
thus: The last note is especially mellow and pleasing, recalling to
some #! ears the liquid gurgle of the Bobolink, to which, of course,
our bird is distinctly related.
Alternating with the last named, and more frequently heard from
the depths of the nesting swamp is gur, gurrl; or, as oftenest, yewi(nk),
yewi(nk), gur-gurrl. In this phrase the gurrl is drawn out with comical
effect, as though the gallant were down on his knees before some un-
yielding maiden. From the depths of the swamp also comes a phrase
which should be a fitting response to such a love-sick appeal, but alas
for our logic, it also proceeds from “‘himself.’’ Cut that aout, says his
lordship, in the most matter of fact way. And a distant neighbor,
believing that discipline is at stake, coincides, cut that a-out. The words
say. themselves, and the most ardent scoffer at ‘‘humanizing’’ cannot
unthink them. But I do not expect all my readers to follow when I
assert that, upon occasion, this bird becomes quite vehement, and shouts,
You gotta cut that a-out.
The Yellow-head’s ordinary note of distrust, equivalent to the dink
note of the Redwing, is kluck or koluck’. In flight this becomes almost
invariably oo’kluk, oo’kluk. At rest, again, this is sometimes prolonged
into a thrilling passage of resonant ‘‘l’’ notes, probably remonstratory
in character. The alarm cry is built upon the same basis, and is uttered
with exceeding vehemence, klookoloy, klookoloy, klook ooooo.
Finally, if one may presume to speak finally of so versatile a genius,
this bird has a harsh, rasping note very similar in quality to the scolding
note of the Blue-fronted Jay, only lighter in weight and a little higher
126
in pitch. This is
the note of fierce
altercation, or the
distress cry in
imminent danger.
Once I heard it
in the rank herb-
age bordering
upon a_ shallow
lake in eastern
Washington. I
rushed in to find
a big blow-snake
coiling just be-
low a nestful of
young birds,
while the
agonized parents
and sympathetic
inl © i fe In Io) © ir S
hovered over the
spot crying pite-
ously. To stamp
upon the reptile
was the work of
but a moment;
and when I drop-
ped the limp
ophidian upon
the ground, all the
blackbird popula-
tion gathered
about the car-
The Yellow-headed Blackbird
A STOUTLY-WOVEN BASKET
be Photo by the Author
cass, shuddering but exultant, and—perhaps it was only fancy—grateful
too.
For all the Yellow-head is so decided in utterance, in disposition he
is somewhat phlegmatic, the male bird especially lacking the vivacity
which characterizes the agile Brewer Blackbird. Except when hungry,
or impelled by passion, he is quite content to mope for hours at a time in
the depths of the reeds; and even in nesting time, when his precincts are
invaded, he oftener falls to admiring his own plumage in the flooding sun-
127
The Yellow-headed Blackbird
shine than tries to drive off the intruder. Let the homely and distrait
female attend to that.
The nests are stoutly-woven baskets of reeds and grasses, light and
dry and handsome. No mud or other matrix material is used in con-
struction, and the interior is always carefully lined with fine, dry grass.
Tules and cattails, especially of the narrow-leafed variety, are favorite
cover, but rank herbage of any sort is used, if only it be near or over
water. The most humble situations suffice; and the nest is often placed
within a foot of the water, or its equivalent of black ooze.
Although the species is highly gregarious in late summer and in
migrations, nests are thinly scattered through the reeds, like those of
Redwings rather than like those of the Tricolored Blackbird. Neighbors
are apt to be like-minded, and a given patch of tules will show a uniform
stage of development—eggs or young. On the other hand, I have found
communities so at loggerheads that nests ranged from ‘‘under construc-
tion’’ to ‘‘ young ready-to-fly.”’ In the San Joaquin-Sacramento basin, at
least, four is the rigid rule for eggs. The only exception I ever noted
contained ten, evidently the product of a single female.
Yellow-headed Blackbirds share the weakness of their kind for
grain, whether fresh-sown, sprouting, in-the-milk, or ripening. Waste
grain is gleaned from the ground, and enormous quantities of weed-seed
are consumed. None of the blackbirds, however, are vegetarians.
Insects are freely eaten at all seasons, while grubs and worms are much
sought after. Alfalfa fields owe a great deal to their cleansing ministra-
tions, and if a balance could be struck between profit and loss to the
farmer, the bird might win. Anyhow, he is a splendid fellow, and his
golden regalia should be passport enough to any mere barley-field.
:
Taken in Merced County NEXT DOOR NEIGHBORS Photo by the Author
THESE BLACK-NECKED STILTS ARE ‘‘RUSTLING’’ BREAKFAST WITHIN A STONE’S THROW OF
A COLONY OF NESTING YELLOW-HEADS
128
_shine- Pian ties to dhive off the ietruder. Let the homely and distrait
fergale Attend ty thet,
The sests are stautiy-woven baskets of reeds and grasses, light and
dry and handseaw, Ne mud or other matrix material is used in con-
struction, and the mtering is always carefully lined with fine, dry grass.
Tules and cattails, espectally «! che narrow-leafed variety, are favorite
over, but Yank herbage ot any sort teased, if only it be near or over
wee? “PRe pins? ie isle aren pia Sere fee: and the nest is often placed
within a foot of the et. OF eR muivaient of black ooze.
Aftheagh the ences is highly aregariius in late summer and in
eerie. mests sey ie aR
Redwings rarher star = Wee ot thie Tartiored Blackbird. Neighbors
sie, Gant i BEB ey saat). auc geass Gee a x tale will show a uniform
Hage cs Givcument Taos me eeu. Coe otha hand, T have found
PORTO Aes ae Gere RS See esas el eae “der (CONStruc-.
E16) HU CMM ie eee See Pee Eker mat AeG eb AN wamento basin, at
jpase | e aes age i ever noted
yee for
gra, wheieey 4 Bg “
Brae. te Glee Saree Shae ERR SS Net dareiites ef eee
fie Sans AU Ss ag : Rey ae Eon at MM So Macoee
. About 74 life size ie cleansing ministers.
» struck between profit and loss to the
win. Anyhow, he is a splendid fellow, and his
w puesport enough to any mere barley-field.
RBCS Photo by the Author
AmgBAKY AQEIN A STONE'S THROW OF
Sh, SA ADS
The Western Meadowlark
No. 21
Western Meadowlark
A. O. U. No. 501.1. Sturnella neglecta Audubon.
Synonyms.—FieE_p Lark. OLpD-FrELD LAarK. MEDLARK. MEDLAR (poetical).
Muptark (corruption).
Description.—Adult male: General color of upperparts brownish black, modi-
fied by much tawny and buffy-gray edgings of the feathers, which throw the black
into stripes and bars with suggestion of herring-bone pattern; the tawny heaviest on
secondaries and upper tail-feathers, where taking the form of partial bands; a median
crown-stripe and posterior portion of superciliary sordid white or buffy; anterior
portion of superciliary, lower cheeks, chin, upper throat, breast (broadly), middle
belly, and edge of wing, rich yellow (lemon-chrome, rarely strontian yellow); a large
black crescent on upper breast; sides and flanks black-streaked, and spotted with pale
brown on a buffy or whitish ground. Bill variegated,—tawny, black, and white.
Female: Like male, but smaller and paler, with some substitutions of brown for black
in streaking; black of jugulum veiled by grayish tips of feathers; yellow of breast, etc.,
duller. The plumage of both sexes is duller and more blended in fall and winter, the
normal colors being everywhere restrained (save on abdomen) by heavy buffy overlay.
Immature birds resemble parents, but are grayer, with (pale) yellow more confined,
and they lack the jugular crescent. Length of adult male 254-279.4 (10.00-11.00);
wing 123.2 (4.85); tail 76.2 (3.00); bill 33 (1.30); tarsus 37.1 (1.46). Female smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; yellow breast with black collar distinctive;
general streaky appearance above; yellow on lower portion of cheek as distinguished
from the eastern Meadowlark (Sturnella magna).
Nesting.— Nest: on the ground, chiefly in meadows or pastures, in thick grass
or weeds; a slight depression, lined (carefully or not) and usually overarched with dried
grasses. Eggs: 4 or 5, rarely 6, 7 of record; white, speckled sparingly or very sparingly
(much more so than in S. magna) with chocolate (often ‘‘self-toned,’’ or diluted, to
vinaceous russet, or ‘‘veiled’’ to vinaceous gray); very variable in shape,—elliptical
ovate to almost round. Avy. size 28.3 x 20.6 (1.12 x .81). Season: April to June;
two broods.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding from the southern provinces
of Canada south to southern California, northern Mexico, and central Texas, east to
central Iowa, Missouri, etc., retiring in winter from northeastern quarter of range and
irregularly elsewhere, and passing south through Lower California and Mexico to
Jalisco and Guanajuato. Casual in several states of the ‘Old Northwest.”’
Distribution in California.—Resident and of general distribution throughout
the State, save arid portions of the desert, broken mountain sections, and the dense
forests. Breeds from Lower Sonoran (Colorado Desert, at Indio, Apr. 27, 1917; Fish
Springs, Apr. 28,1917) to Lower Boreal (or uppermost Transitional “‘islands’’ at Boreal
levels), e. g., the Cottonwood Lakes in Inyo County, alt., 11,000 ft. The species
retires irregularly in winter to lower levels, invades the desert and (probably) suffers
inundation by northern visitors. Found also upon all the Santa Barbara Islands, save,
possibly, San Nicolas.
729
The Western Meadowlark
Authorities.—Gambel, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii., 1 ‘
Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, pp. 462-465, pl. vi., figs. 23, 24 (habits,
nests and eggs); Belding, Auk, vol. xiii., 1896, pp. 29-30; vol. xv., 1898, p 5
(song); Chapman, Bull. Amer. Mus. Nat. Hist., vol. xiii., 1900, pp. 297-320, 8 figs.
(crit. study); Bryant, H. C., Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. ii., 1914, pp. 377-510, pls.
21-24, 5 figs. (food and economic status in Calif.).
SUMMER silences the birds so gradually, and we ourselves have be-
come so much absorbed in business during the prosy days of September,
that we have almost forgotten the choruses of springtime, and have come
to accept our uncheered lot as part of the established order of things.
But on a nippy October morning, as we are bending over some dull task,
there comes a sound which brings us to our feet. We hasten to the
window, throw up the sash and lean out into the cool, fresh air, while a
Meadowlark rehearses, all at a sitting, the melodies of the year’s youth.
It all comes back to us with a rush: the smell of lush grasses, the splendor
of apple blossoms, the courage of lengthening days, the ecstacies of
courtship—all these are recalled by the lark-song. It is as though this
forethoughted soul had caught the music of a May day, just at its prime,
in a crystal vase, and was now pouring out the imprisoned sound in a
gurgling, golden flood. What cheer! What heartening! Yea; what
rejuvenation it brings! Wine of youth! Splashes of color and gay
delight!
It is impossible not to rhapsodize over the Meadowlark. He is a
rhapsodist himself. Born of the soil and lost in its embraces for such
time as it pleases him, he yet quits his lowly station ever and again,
mounts some fence-post or tree-top, and publishes to the world an un-
quenchable gladness in things-as-they-are. If at sunrise, then the gleams
of the early ray flash resplendent from his golden breastplate,—this high-
priest of morning; and all Nature echoes his joyous blast: ‘‘ Thank God
for sunshine!’’ Or if the rain begins to fall, who so quickly grateful for
its refreshment as this optimist of the ground, this prophet of good cheer!
There is even an added note of exultation in his voice as he shouts: ‘‘ Thank
God for rain!’’ And who like him can sing farewell to parting day!
Piercing sweet from the meadows come the last offerings of day’s daysmen,
peal and counterpeal from rival friendly throats, unfailing, unfaltering,
unsubdued: ‘‘It is good to live. It is good to rest. Thank God for
the day now done!”
The Meadowlark of the East has a poet’s soul, but he lacks an
adequate instrument of expression. His voice does not respond to his
requirement. Perhaps his early education, as a species, was neglected.
Certain it is that in passing westward across the prairies of Iowa or
IXansas one notices an instant change in the voices of the Meadowlarks.
I30
The Western Meadowlark
The song of the western bird is sweeter, clearer, louder, longer and more
varied. The difference is so striking that we can explain it only upon
the supposition of an independent development. The western bird got
his early training where prairie wild flowers of a thousand hues ministered
to his senses, where breath of pine mingled faintly with the aroma of
neighboring cactus bloom, and where the sight of distant mountains fired
the imagination of a poet race. At any rate, we of the West are proud of
the Western Meadowlark, and would have you believe that such a blithe
spirit could evolve only under such circumstances.
Bird song never exactly conforms to our musical notation, and there
is no instrument save the human “‘whistle’’ which will even passably
reproduce the quality of the Meadowlark’s song. Nevertheless, many
interesting experiments have been made in recording these songs, and a
little attention will convince the least accomplished musician that there
is a fascinating field for study here.
A formal song of the Western Meadowlark comprises from four to
a dozen notes, usually six or seven. The song phrases vary endlessly
in detail, yet certain types are clearly distinguishable, types which re-
appear in different parts of the country, apparently without regard to
local traditions or suppositional schools of song. Thus, a northern singer
says, Oku wheel’ er, ku wheel’ er, and he may not have a rival in a hundred
miles; yet another bird across a mountain range sings, Eh heu, wheel’ iky,
wheel’ iky, or even Eh heu wheel’ tky, wheel’ tky, wheel’ iky, and you
recognize it instantly as belonging to the same type. In like manner,
Owy’ hee, rec'itative was heard with perfect distinctness in localities
three hundred miles apart.
Each bird has a characteristic song-phrase by which he may be
recognized and traced through a season, or through succeeding years.
One boisterous spirit near Lake Chelan, in Washington, I shall never
forget, for he insisted on shouting hour after hour and day after day,
“Hip! Hip! Hurrah! boys; three cheers!’ Another bird near Auburn,
in Placer County, amused us with his insistent Hick’ 0 wee Willie Cook.
Yet, while this is true, no bird is confined to a single style of song. A
performer near Santa Barbara attracted notice by a rich, rolling Wheeeeeroo
wheeeeeroo, which baffled imitation by the palatal trill (whistled), which
the birds have taught the writer; but this intricate passage presently
gave place to the ‘“‘regular”’ song, a perfect clarion burst of Hay oh hee
oh wee’ erp. An autumnal soloist in a city park rendered no less than
six distinct songs or song-phrases in a rehearsal lasting five minutes.
He gave them without regard to sequence, now repeating the same
phrase several times in succession, now hurrying on to new forms, pausing
only after each utterance for breath.
The Western Meadowlark
Nor is the effort of the Western Meadowlark con-
fined to the formal song, for he often pours out a flood
of warbling, chattering and gurgling notes which, at
close range, are very attractive. Not infrequently he
will interrupt one of these meditative rhapsodies with
the clarion call, and return immediately to his minor
theme.
In the presence of a stranger the lark serves fre-
quent notice of intended departure in a vigorous toop,
or toob, accompanying the sound with an emphatic
flirt of the wings and jerk of the tail. Now and then
the actual departure is accompanied by a beautiful
yodelling song. After several preliminary toobs the
bird launches himself with fantastic exaggeration of
effort and rolls out, O’ly oly o'ly o'ly o'ly, with ravish-
ing sweetness.
At nesting time the parent birds have many
causes for apprehension, and as they move about in
Sel Niece ais search of food they give vent to the toob note of dis-
Pholo by the Awhor trust in a fashion which soon becomes chronic. For
OH, JOY! one who studies the Western Meadowlark in several
States, great interest attaches to the provincialisms
of speech which characterize each locality. It is probable that this toob
note of disgust, being more simple and primitive, will afford a better basis
for local comparison than the more complex song. At any rate, it is more
stereotyped and inflexible. Thus, on Santa Cruz Island, the tood note,
while typical as to form, has a peculiarly ‘‘ancient”’ and plaintive quality.
Elsewhere on the mainland one hears fewk or tew(r)k, very sharp and pene-
trating. In eastern Washington, again, this note has become doubled,
too’ bit or too’ whit, and I think I have caught the same inflection in the
highlands east of our Sierras.
At nesting time the Western Meadowlark enjoys a wide distribution
in California. It is found, alike, at sea level, upon the cattail islands,
over the grass-covered hills of the cattle country, in all cultivated sections,
in the grassy openings of the northwestern forests, and over the stretches
of the northeastern plateau. On the eastern slopes of the Sierras, the
birds occur irregularly up to the lower levels of pine timber, and once,
June 23, 1911, I found them at an altitude of 11,000 feet on Cottonwood
Creek, in Inyo County.
The Meadowlark is an assiduous nester. This not because of any
unusual amativeness, but because young Meadowlarks are the morceaux
132
The Western Meadowlark
Nor is the effort of the Western Meadowlark con-
fined to the formal song, for he often pours out a flood
‘of warbling, chattering and gurgling notes which, at
cinve range, are very attractive. Not infrequently he
will interrupt one of these meditative rhapsodies with
the clarion call, and return immediately to He minor
theme,
fn the presence of a stranger the lark a fre-
QuENnt notice af intended departure in a vigorous toop,
arcomapeswing the. sound with an, emphatic
fhe wings arc jerk of the tail. Now and then
toch parture is accompanied by a beautiful
( After several preliminary foobs the
Lv ats s exaggeration of
o'iy, with ravish-
e the gawedt birds have many.
aii, Hed ax they move about in
give vent to the toa note of dis-
at ae: = RE pe 2 becomes chronic. For
Shy OX st and Eggs s of Wi stern Me eadow OWMEX ark in several aap
From a photoaraph by the Author Jaken in San Lui (Obicpo County incialisms: .
of speech which characterize each locality. Tt is probable that this to0d
note of disgust, being more simple and primitive, will afford a better basis ‘
for local comparison than the more complex song. At any rate, itis more oe
stereotyped and inflexible. Thus, on Santa Cruz Island, the food note, oe
while typical as to form, has a peculiarly ‘‘ancient’’ and plaintive quality.
Elsewhere on the mainland one hears fewk or tew(r)k, very sharp and pene-
trating. In eastern Washington, again, this note has become doubled,
toe” bit or toe’ what, and I think I have caught the same inflection in the
highlands east of our Sierras.
Jeb amesting time the Western Meaciowlark enjoys a wide distribution
te Calfoenia. Te is found, alike, at-sea tevel, upon the cattail islands, — ~
exes the erass-covered hills of the cattle country, tn ail cultivated sections,
in the gtassy Openings of = northwestern forests, and over the stretches~
ant the sorthoostera page . On the eastere slopes. of the Sierras, the
DELS CMU igh na ty ats to the lower levels of pine timber, and once, ©
Sac: 2%, 29th, | fou vem at an altitude of 14,300 feet on Cottonwood
fads in toye oun eed
The Meark ale. is an assiduous nester. This not because of any ~
aitmeal amativeness, but because young Meadowlarks are ae MOrceaux
ee
The Western Meadowlark
delicieux of all the powers that prey,—skunks, weasels, minks, raccoons,
foxes, coyotes, snakes, jays, magpies, crows, and ravens; and if there
be any other power of darkness, be sure it has its hand in here. Hawks
and owls otherwise blameless in the bird-world, err in respect to the
Meadowlark—the game is too easy. Even the noble Peregrine does not
disdain this humble, albeit toothsome, quarry; and the Kestrel (Cerchneis
sparverius) will stoop for a young Meadowlark when all other avian
offerings are virtuously passed by.
Fecundity then is the only recourse,—this, and concealment. Not
relying altogether upon its marvelous protective coloration, the lark
exhibits great caution in approaching, and, if possible, in quitting its
nest. In either case it sneaks along the ground for a considerable distance,
threading the mazes of the grass so artfully that the human eye can follow
with difficulty, or not at all. At the approach of danger a sitting bird
may either steal from her nest unobserved and rise at a safe distance, or
else seek to further her deception by feigning lameness, after the fashion
of the Shore-birds. Or, again, she may cling to her charge in desperation,
hoping against hope till the last possible moment, and taking chances of
final mishap. In this way a friend of mine once discovered a brooding
Meadowlark imprisoned underneath his boot—fortunately without dam-
age, for she occupied the deep depression of a cow-track.
To further concealment the grass-lined depression in which the
Meadowlark places her four or five speckled eggs is almost invariably
over-arched with dried grasses. This renders the eggs practically in-
visible from above, and especially if the nest is placed in thick grass or
rank herbage, as is customary. Touching instances of blind devotion
to this ‘arch’ tradition were, however, afforded by a sheep-swept pasture
in the North. Here the salt-grass was cropped close and the very sage
was gnawed to stubs. But the Meadowlarks, true to custom, had
imported long, dried grasses with which to overarch their nests. As a
result, one had only to look for knobs on the landscape. By eye alone
we located six of these pathetic landmarks in the course of a half-hour’s
stroll.
One brood is usually brought off in March or April, and another by
the first of June. Although Meadowlarks are classed as altricial, 1. e.
having young helpless when hatched, and which require to be nurtured
in the nest, the young Meadowlarks are actually very precocious, and
scatter from the nest four or five days after hatching, even before they are
able to fairly stand erect. This arrangement lessens the chances of
wholesale destruction, but it would appear to complicate the problem
from the parental standpoint. How would you, for instance, like to
T33.
The Western Meadowlark
tend five babies,
each in a sepa-
rate thicket in a
trackless forest,
and that haunt-
ed by cougars,
and lynxes, and
boa-constric-
tors and things?
We cannot
afford to be in-
different specta-
tors to this early
struggle for ex-
istence, for it is
difficult to over-
estimate the
economic value
of the Meadow-
Lawes. I lve
Meadowlark is
by preference
an insect-eating
bird; but in the
fall, when in-
sects are scarce,
it turns to weed-
seed and fallen
grain for suste-
nance. Later,
when the fall-
sown grains be-
gin to sprout
and send up the
first tender
blade, the birds
sometimes in-
Taken in San Luts Obispo County Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN MEADOWLARK, IN YARROW
vade the fields and delve, quite cleverly, for the hidden treasure. Sprouting
oats are a clear favorite, and experts estimate that this, together with a little
wheat and barley, may sometimes amount to as much as one per cent of
the bird’s total annual fare! Of course that’s naughty. But to persecute
and destroy the Meadowlark on that account alone would be as silly and
134
The Western Meadowlark
as criminal as it would be to shoot boys at sight because some boys
occasionally steal apples. For the fact remains, incontestably proven
by one of the most painstaking investigations ever conducted,! that the
services performed by the Meadowlark as a destroyer of insects harmful
to agriculture, overwhelmingly preponderate over the bird’s occasional
destruction of grain. The figures are interesting. Dr. Bryant estimates
that a Meadowlark requires annually about six pounds of food. Of this
a half pound is weed-seed, one and three-quarters pounds grain—chiefly
fallen grain—and two and three-quarters pounds, insects. The grain is
worth, say ten cents, or if we count the average ounce of sprouting grain
consumed at fifteen times ordinary value, we will have a debit of fifteen
cents per annum against the bird. But what is the minus value of pre-
dacious insects, among them the most destructive known, such as wire-
worms and cut-worms, which are Meadowlark’s specialties? Soberly,
almost anywhere from a dollar to a hundred dollars a pound, according
to the value of the crops which the farmer is trying to raise. Yet,
according to Dr. Bryant, it takes 193 pounds of insect food each day to
feed the young Meadowlarks of the Sacramento and San Joaquin valleys
alone. The imagination staggers before the sober conclusions of science
regarding our indebtedness to the Meadowlark. In the face of this
showing, and it does not rest on one man’s testimony alone—Professor
Beal has elsewhere shown that in the matter of grasshopper consumption
Meadowlarks of average distribution are worth twenty-four dollars per
month per township in saving the nation’s hay crop—In the face of such
a showing, I say, the efforts which certain individuals have persistently
made in the halls of our State Legislature to remove protection from our
Western Meadowlark, argue not only a spirit untouched by beauty or
worth, but a low grade of intelligence.
And it goes without saying that we cannot regard this bird as lawful
game. Its flesh is undoubtedly a delicacy, but so is human flesh. We
exempt the horse from slaughter not because its flesh is unfit for food—
it is really very sapid—but because the animal has endeared itself to our
race by generations of faithful service. We place the horse in another
category, that of animal friend. And the human race, the best of it,
has some time since discovered compunctions about eating its friends.
Make friends with this bonny bird, the Meadowlark, and you will be
ashamed thenceforth to even discuss assassination. Fricassee of prima
donna! Voice of morning en brochette! Bird-of-merry-cheer on toast!
Faugh! And yet that sort of thing passed muster a generation ago—does
yet in the darker parts of Europe!
1 A Determination of the Economic Status of the Western Meadowlark (Sturnella neglecta) in California, by
Harold Child Bryant, U. of C. Pub. Zool., Vol. II., no. 14, pp. 377-510, pls. 21-24, 5 text figs., Feb. 27, 1914.
L345
The Bobolink
No. 22
Bobolink
A. O. U. No. 494. Dolichonyx oryzivorus (Linnzus).
Synonyms.—SKUNK-BLACKBIRD. REED-BIRD. RICE-BIRD. MEADOW-WINK.
Description.—Adult male, breeding plumage: Head and below, rich glossy
black,—the feathers having at first a buffy edging which wears off as the season ad-
vances; a broad nuchal patch of strong buff (cream-buff to honey-yellow); scapulars,
lower back, rump, and upper tail-coverts pale white; middle back gray; upper back,
wings, and tail glossy to dead black, with various buffy edgings; tail-feathers sharply
pointed. Billdull black; feet brown. Adult female: Ground color of plumage olive-
buff,—clearest below and in median crown, superciliary, and inter-scapular stripes;
the remainder black and brownish fuscous. Adults in fall, and young: Like female
in spring, but buffer and with less black throughout. Length of male 178-190 (7.00-
7.50); wing 97.5 (3.84); tail 65 (2.56); bill 11 (.43); tarsus 27.2 (1.07). Female averages
a half-inch shorter, with similar proportions.
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size; black, white, and buff plumage of breeding
male. The breeding female is a shy and obscurely-colored bird, to be recognized by
the amateur mainly through the attentions of the male. At other seasons both sexes
and all ages may be known by the frequently uttered dink cry. In the hand the acute
tail-feathers are quite distinctive.
Nesting.— Nest: on the ground, in meadow or deserted field; a slight grass-lined
depression concealed with some art, but not definitely overarched. Eggs: 5 or 6,
rarely 7; yellowish gray (tilleul buff to pale smoke-gray) or greenish gray (light mineral-
gray); heavily and often sharply spotted or blotched with deep brown (diluting to
natal brown or army brown, or veiling to vinaceous gray). Av. size, 21.1 x 15.7
(.83 x .62). Season: About June Ist; one brood.
General Range.—North and South America; breeding in Transition zone from
central latitudes of southern Canadian Provinces west to southeastern British Columbia
and northeastern California, east to Cape Breton Island and New Jersey, south to
about Latitude 40°; wintering in South America to Bolivia and Paraguay.
Distribution in California.—A breeder, perhaps irregularly, in the extreme
northeastern portion of the State (Eagleville, Surprise Valley, June 30, 1912); of casual
occurrence elsewhere; four records: (See Grinnell, Pacific Coast Avifauna, No. II, pp.
100, I01).
Authorities.—Littlejohn, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 73 (at Red-
wood City); Breninger, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 93 (at Monterey);
Fisher, W. K., Condor, vol. iv., 1902, p. 11 (at Mono Lake); Taylor, W. P., Condor,
vol. xiii., I91I, p. 211 (at San Bruno Lake); Dawson, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p.
28 (at Eagleville).
IT IS highly characteristic of California that its vast and varied
empire should have provided a suitable asylum for this troubadour poet
of the East; and equally characteristic, perhaps, that his presence among
us should have passed almost unnoted. We are well nigh surfeited with
notabilities, we Californians, surfeited and perhaps a little spoiled. Lords
136
The Bobolink
and ladies have thronged our streets, and ducal parties have put up at
our ‘‘best hotels.’’ We have dined with Maharajahs, and danced with
Spanish grandees. We have listened to high-brows from Boston—have
even gone to hear ’em—twice. The Russian ballet regards us as a private
possession, and French
artistes, who have never
seen Dakota, visit us
every year. Captains of
industry from Chicago
have reclaimed our goat-
pastures under pretense
of playing golf, and
social leaders from
Gotham hold alternate
court at Pasadena and
Santa Barbara. It is all
very flattering, very
wonderful; but please do
not expect us to get
excited. They are wel-
come, of course, or would
be if they didn’t spoil the
cattle ranges. But,
really, a multimillionaire
more or less doesn’t mat-
ter, and what is a duke,
anyhow? But wake up,
California! the BOBO-
LINKS HAVE COME!
Robert of Lincoln!
apostle of mirth! Mer-
riest madcap artist of
spring! Symbol of divine
unrest and divine—oh, divine Hope! Heis here! Turn out, you Native
Sons! and muster, you sons of millionaires, to do him honor! You whose
fathers struck oil, -or whose grandsires struck pay dirt, what will you ever
strike one-half so rich as this fountain of song, this well of gladness, pure
and unrestrained! Hail! blessed brother bird! And hail! tumultuous
minstrel Bobolink!
It was the chief surprise of a visit paid in 1912 to the Surprise Valley
in Modoc County to find the Bobolink common and, apparently, breeding.
Although the season (June 30) would have been counted late at a lower
Mien Ryo oks
Vv
BOBOLINKS, MALE AND FEMALE
I37
The Bobolink
altitude (that of Eagleville, where the birds were seen, is 472
on
Loa}
+
Ne
=
DS
oO
male birds were in high plumage and singing freely.
Although chiefly confined to the portion of America east of the
Rockies, Bobolinks had, in all probability, discovered the well-watered
region tributary to Salt Lake previous to the advent of the white man.
We surmise that they reached this region by an extension of range from
the north and east rather than from the south, and that they return
annually by some
unplotted east-and-
west route. The
spread of agricul-
ture and of irriga-
tion in Utah and
southern Idaho has
been attended by
an increase of Bob-
olinks in that sec-
tion, and it is alto-
gether probable
that the overflow
from those favored
regions is seeking
out, and will find
increasingly, asy-
lum in the hay-
growing sections of
Washington, Ore-
gon, and northern
California. In view,
therefore, of the
pleasant possibility
that Bobolinks may
increase within our
borders, I include a
few paragraphs
written from a
frankly eastern
standpoint.
Next after
Bluebird, the com-
ing of Bobolink
marks the broadest
138
Taken in Modoc County Photo by the Author
EAGLEVILLE AND THE SURPRISE VALLEY, LOOKING EAST
WHERE THE BOBOLINKS NESTED IN 1912
The California Evening Grosbeak
step in the golden stair of springtime, by which we yearly attain the height
of ornithological joy. His coming heralds that tidal wave of migration
which begins somewhere during the last week of April, and sweeps over us
till the middle of May. Without waiting for their more modest mates, the
males press northward, hot-winged, to riot for a while over the dank mea-
dows in bachelor companies, and to perfect that marvel of tumultuous song.
Oh, how they sing, those Bacchanals of springtime! From fence-post or
tree-top, or quivering in midair, they pour forth such an ecstacy of liquid,
gurgling notes as must thrill the very clods. Such exuberance of spirit,
such reckless abandon of mirth-compelling joy would cure a sick preacher
on blue Monday. As the bird sings, he bows and scrapes and pirouettes
till, as Wheaton says, “he resembles a French dancing master in uniform,
singing, fiddling, dancing, and calling off at the same time.”
But when some fine morning about a week later, a shy, plainly attired,
brown lady drops from the sky with a soft dink, then it is that the passion-
ate soul of the singer is fairly consumed by the inner fires of melody and
desire. He dashes like mad after his lady love and pursues her at break-
neck speed through the thickets of weeds and about fence-rows until he
loses her in the grass. Then he hovers, or rather dances, in the air, over
the spot where she vanished, or else retires to a fence-post hard by, to
make frantic protestations of his devotion. Oh geezeler, geezeler, gilpity,
onkeler, oozeler, 00, comes from that perfect throat; and somewhere
between two blades of grass the lady is watching him—the sly minx—and
chuckling softy to herself.
Once I heard a chorus of bachelors—or was it a musical contest 2—
where seven birds in the top of a willow were singing with might and main.
The effect of that wild melody of tinkling, palpitating, and flute-like
notes, with its changeful syncopations and melodious discord, will not
soon be forgotten. It was an all star team of the world’s most accom-
plished mirth makers. (The Birds of Ohio).
No. 23
California Evening Grosbeak
A. O. U. No. 514a, part. Hesperiphona vespertina californica Grinnell.
Description.—Adult male: Forehead and superciliaries wax-yellow; feathers
about base of bill, crown, and lores black; wings black, with a large white patch formed
by tips of inner secondaries and tertials; upper tail-coverts and tail black; remaining
plumage sooty olive-brown about head and neck, shading through olive and olive-
yellow on distal scapulars, axillars, and lining of wings, lower rump, and under tail-
coverts. Bill greenish horn-color and citron-yellow; feet brownish. Adult female:
139
The California Evening Grosbeak
General color deep smoky brownish gray or buffy brown, darker on the head, lighter on
wings, lighter, more buffy, on sides, shading to dull whitish on throat and abdomen,
tinged with yellowish green on hind neck, clearing to light yellow on axillars and under
wing-coverts; a small clear white patch about midway of inner primaries; another of
irregular contour formed by outer edges of inner feathers of greater wing-coverts;
white blotches on tips of secondaries, on tips of upper tail-coverts and inner webs of
tail-feathers, in varying proportions. Length about 203.2 (8.00); av. of 6 males in
M. V. Z. coll.: wing 112 (4.41); tail 62 (2.44); bill 18.8 (.74); depth at base 14.6 (.57);
width at base 13.8 (.54); tarsus 20.8 (.82).
Nesting.— Nest: As described by Beck, a substantial structure 35 feet up in black
oak; of twigs heavily lined with moss-like rootlets of a dark color, and with an inside
lining of light-colored rootlets; diameter outside 114.3 (4.50); inside 76 (3.00). Eggs:
3 or 4, ovate; light greenish blue, spotted and blotched sparingly with dark brown and
black—distantly resembling those of a Red-winged Blackbird (A gelaius phoeniceus sp.).
Avy. size of three: 23.4 x 16.2 (.92 x .64). Season: June 18 (1896), July 9 (1922).
Range of Hesperiphona vespertina—North central and western North America;
breeds chiefly in the highlands or the coniferous timber from Alberta and southern
British Columbia south to Chihuahua. Wanders irregularly over tributary lowlands
in winter and casually east to New England.
Range of H. v. californica.—‘‘Summer range—chiefly in Sierra Nevada of
California, south at least to Yosemite National Park; but also Warner Mountains,
Modoc County, and thence north at least to Bear Creek, Wheeler County, Oregon
(See L. H. Miller, Condor, VI, 1904, p. 104). Winters irregularly in adjacent territory
south to Mount Wilson, Los Angeles County, California’—Joseph Grinnell.
Distribution in California.—As above. This, or an allied form still unde-
scribed, occurs also in the Trinity Mountains and in the northwestern humid coast
belt: near Eureka (Clay, Davis); Weaverville, Trinity County, Feb. 27, 1911 (Kellogg);
near Trinidad, Humboldt County, June 22, 1916 (Dawson); Tehama County, near
Beegum, July 4, 1916 (Dawson).
Authorities.—Cooper, Ornith. Calif., 1870, pp. 173-176; Coues, Bull. Nutt.
Orn. Club, vol. iv., 1879, pp. 65-75 (life history); Mearns, Auk, vol. vii., 1890, pp.
246-249 (part) (crit.); Beck, Nidologist, vol. iv., 1896, pp. 3-4, col. pl. (nest and eggs
in Calif.); Merriam, C. H., U. S. Dept. Agric., N. Amer. Fauna, no. 16, 1899, pp.
122-123 (about Mt. Shasta); [Barlow], Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 88 (winter invasion
of 1900-1901); Grinnell, Condor, vol. xix., 1917, p. 20 (desc. of californica).
THE MAN who said, scoffingly, ‘‘What’s in aname!”’ brought down
upon himself an avalanche of criticism, or multitudinous rejoinder, whose
reverberations, now angry, now eloquent, will never be done rolling.
In bird-lore especially, history has embodied itself in nomenclature. Here,
as in human society, the moment of introduction must often be taken up
with a discussion of names. And while bird-names may be as diverse
as Smith and Specknoodle, they are rarely so conventionalized, or so
devoid of immediate significance. There is a fitness, then, in placing
HHesperiphona, ‘Voice of the Evening Star,’’ at the head of a group
conspicuous in song, the Fringillidae. The western implications of the
74O
General color deep ass broscniab gray or bully brown, darker on the hice: hie on
wings, lighner, swe bully, on sides, shading to dull whitish on throat and abdomen,
tegged with seliewen proes on hind neck, cleaving to light yellow on axillars and under
Wing-coveriay A varatl star white earch about midway of inner primaries; another of
irregular contour formed hy outer edges of inner feathers of greater wing-coverts;
white Ulciches oa tips of aveondaries, on tips of upper tail-coverts and inner webs of ©
tail-feathers, 1 varying praportiuns. Length-about 203.2 (8.00); av. of 6 males in
MOW.Z. coll: wits £XD (he Ad)e tall H2 (aaay, dill 18. BC 7”; depth at base 14.6 (57);
width’at base 43.8 (5a); tarens 20.8 (82).
Nesting.-- Vest: As dwserised tv Beck, a substantial structure 35 feet up in black
ak; of twies heavily lined with moss-tke rootlets of a dark color, and with an inside
lining of light-colored rostiers: diameter dutside 114.3 (4.50); inside 76 (3.00). Eggs:
3 Or 4. ovate: tighter blue, seatted and blothed sparingly with dark brown and
black—distantiy resem biting those i a Red-winged Blackhird (A geladus phoentceus sp.).
Avisize of threes: 21.4 3 ie igs s Wal. Neosons: June ¢8 (7866), fulv 9 (1922).
Range af. ipsa wine ~North coatral and wearer North! America;
breeds @hieis (@ the Siebiivile ae the ¢ontersus taiber Troe Alpeeta andi southern
British Cobsnbia aor toh Siu. Wanvdlén terepolariy aver onmtary lowlands
i Winter and tasieatiy Sant ae Mew Magtand:,
Range of Fi. vu. calilernicds> Summer range--chielly in Sierra Nevada “of.
Califernia, south at least te Yosemite NaAGonat ek but also Warner Mountains,
Motec County, and thenee marth at least to Bear Creek, Wheeler County, Oregon
(See L. H. Miller, Condor, VE. yea, p. 10g). Winters irregularly in adjacent territory
south to Mount Western te 1 Evening “Grosbeak ( Srignell,
fhistribution fn. ta fale "Hee Feb boa % lite size an allied form still unde- .
stribed) etours. also tthe” Prenrsy Tountains avd in vie aorthwestern humid coast
belt: near Eureka (Clay, Davis); Weaverville, Trinity County, Peb. 27, 1rori (Kellogg);
near Trinidad | Humboldt Counts, June 22. 1916 (Dawson); Tehama County, near
Beegum, July 4 4, t929 (Dawson), : : i
le etal eee Ornith. Calif., 1876, pp. 173-176; Coues, Bull. Nutt.
Orn, Chib, volo iv, 1870, pp. 65-75 {life history); Mearns, Auk, vol. vii., 1890; pp.
246-249 (part) (crit.); Beck, Nidologist, vol. iv., 1896, pp. 3-4, col. pl. (nest and eggs
in Calif.); Aferriam, C. H., U.S. Dept. Agric, N.| Amer. Fauna, no. 16, 1899, pp._
122-123 (about Mt. Shasta); [Barlow], Condor, vol. ii., i901, p. 88 (winter invasion
of 1900-1901); Grinnell, Condor, vol. xix., 1917, p. 20 (desc. of californica).
THE MAN who said, scoffingly, “What's in aname!”’ brought down.
upon himself an avalanche of criticism, or multitudinous rejoinder, whose
reverberations, now angry, now eloquent, will never be done rolling.
In bird-lore especially, history has embodied itself in nomenclature. Here, »
ain human society, the moment. ef introduction must often be taken up
with a disoussion of names. And while bird-names may be as diverse -..
as Smith and Speckneoodle, they hs rarely so conventionalized, or so
deveid of immediate significance. Vhere is a fitness, then, in placing
Hesperiphona, “Voice of the Evening Star,” at the head of a group”
eoneprenous in song, the Fringdlidae. The western implications of the ~ 4
Ife
The California Evening Grosbeak
generic title were further confined by the choice of a specific name, ves-
pertina, a term applied in 1825 by a New Yorker, one William Cooper,
to an example hailing from the “far West,’’ namely, from the wilds of
Michigan! By the logic of our increasing sophistication, vespertina
vespertina came to be recognized as the eastern form of Hesperiphona,
and montana was used to designate the western bird. Last of all comes
Grinnell, the gifted prophet of subspeciation, who restricts montana to
the Rocky Mountain district and gives us californica for the authentic
West. So now we have it Hesperitphona vespertina californica, West,
Wester, Westest! Swayed by such considerations as these, our veteran
Coues, in periods of rhapsodic appreciation, professed to see in the olive-
and-gold raiment of this bizarre fowl a fitting symbol of the sunset!
Moreover, the name vespertina, falling athwart a boundless ignorance,
gave rise to an early tradition of vocal abilities stimulated by the evening
hours, or even limited to them. This pretty story was eventually shown
to be nonsense; but tradition dies hard, and ‘‘Evening Grosbeak”’ it will
doubtless be till the end of time.
A juster reason, perhaps, for precedence among sparrows, may be
found in the enormous bill which this bird boasts. A cone-shaped beak
is the mark of sparrowness, and here is a proper cone-beak, indeed.
But for this primacy there are damaging limitations. The Evening
Grosbeak is neither the most beautiful nor the most tuneful of the Frin-
gillide, if he is by common consent rated the oddest. His garb is a patch-
work; his song a series of shrieks; his motions eccentric; his humor phleg-
matic; and his concepts beyond the ken of man. Although at times one
of the most approachable of birds, he is, on the whole, an avian freak, a
rebus in feathers.
Perhaps we make too much of a mystery of him, just as we rate the
owl highest in wisdom for the single discretion of silence, which any
dunderhead may attain. But now take this group in the park; just what
are they about? They sit there stolidly in the rowan tree where all the
passersby may take note of them, giving vent ever and anon to explosive
yelps, but doing nothing by the hour, until an insane impulse seizes
one of their number to be off to some other scene no better, be it near or
far, and the rest yield shrieking consent by default of alternative idea.
It is all so unreasonable, so uncanny, that it irritates us.
Evening Grosbeaks are semi-gregarious the year around, but are
seen to best advantage in winter or early spring, when they flock closely
and visit city parks or wooded lawns. One is oftenest attracted to their
temporary quarters by the startling and disconnected noises which are
flung out broadcast. It may be that the flock is absorbed in the depths
of a small fir, so that one may come up near enough to analyze the sound.
T4l
The California Evening Grosbeak
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
NESTING HAUNT OF WESTERN EVENING GROSBEAK
X SHOWS LOCATION OF NEST, RI88/4-22 M. C. O.
Three sorts of notes are plainly distinguishable: a low murmuring of
pure tones, quite pleasant to the ear; a harsh but subdued rattle, or
alarm note, wzzzt or wzz2p, familiarly similar to that of the Crossbill;
and the high-pitched shriek, which distinguishes the bird from all others,
dimp. A little attention brings to light the fact that all the birds in the
flock bring out this astonishing note at precisely the same pitch. Once
distinguished, this note will serve again and again to draw attention to
this uncanny fowl, as it passes overhead or loses itself in the bosom of
some giant conifer.
If a student runs through the brief published annals of this bird, he
will be surprised to see how much of its history has been written in or
near the cities. The earliest California account, that of Dr. Cooper,
hails from Santa Cruz.!. Another observer, a Mr. W. L. Tiffany, describes,
in 1878, the repeated appearance of the birds in the city of Minneapolis.
For myself, I have seen more Evening Grosbeaks within the city limits
of Seattle, Tacoma, and Spokane than in all the country besides. Just
why these birds should be especially attracted to the centers of popula-
tion, it is hard to say. Perhaps they love the stir and uproar of urban
1 Geol. Surv. of Cal., Ornithology, p. 175 (1870).
142
The California Evening Grosbeak
life, the din which they
help so valiantly to pro-
mote. At any rate, it is
easy enough to see why
they are more noticeable
here, for their showy and
patchy coloration marks
them as distinguished
visitors in town, whereas
in the forest their colors
so melt into and har-
monize with their sur-
roundings that it is dif-
ficult to follow their
movements.
These Grosbeaks, or
New World Hawfinches,
are not to be commended
as horticulturists. In
winter they feed largely
upon the ground, glean-
ing fallen seeds and
fruits; and they are espe-
cially fond of the winged
key of the large-leafed
maple (Acer macrophyl-
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author 4Um) and of the box elder
“THE LADY IN THE GREEN BOMBAZINE DRESS” (A negundo californt-
FEMALE WESTERN EVENING GROSBEAK IN DEAD FIR TREE s
cum). They drop down
to such a feast one by one from the branches above, and it is amusing to
note how the loud cracking of seeds is interspersed with music. A little
later the birds devote themselves to swelling buds, and here too the maple
is a favorite, though ash, alder, flowering currant, and a dozen more, are
not disdained. The damage done is not considerable; for the birds, viewed
in the large, are not numerous enough, all told, to be taken seriously; but
viewed in the concrete, the snip, snip of those mandibles in the currant
bushes is no berry-growers’ serenade.
It may be that the key of high C sharp, or whatever it be, staccato
con moto, is the accepted love note, and that the green-liveried swain
hurls declarations at his inamorata, like Samson in Handel’s oratorio,
the live-long year. Anyway, his exertions are redoubled in early June,
and he charges about in a reckless frenzy which excites the envy of the
143
The California Evening Grosbeak
odlogically minded, no less than the admiration of the ladies in gray,
who are bound to believe all that is said.
The nesting of the Evening Grosbeak has been repeatedly and
accurately described,! but eggs are still very rare in collections, and they
are justly rated among the most difficult of odlogical trophies. The
reasons for this hark back alike to the general eccentricity of the bird,
and to the seclusion of its summer haunts. The first nest of the species
known to science was taken by Rollo H. Beck in Eldorado County, on
the 18th of June, 1896, and at an elevation of 4700 feet. It was placed
in a black oak tree, 35 feet up, and contained four fresh eggs, of a type
more nearly resembling those of a Redwing (Agelatus phoeniceus sp.),
than those of other, and of course unrelated, ‘‘Grossbeaks.’’ Other nests
since found, especially those in Arizona and New Mexico, have been
placed in large evergreens, and often at heights from the ground and
distances from the tree-trunk, sufficient to discourage any but the most
hardy investigators. The bird’s behavior in nesting country is erratic
in the extreme, just as its psychology elsewhere is beyond analysis. One
may feel perfectly certain that the bird is nesting, or intending to nest,
close at hand; yet it will mope about for discouraging and unsuggestive
hours, or else it will depart noisily into hopeless distances. The casual
appearances of the bird at such a season suggest a detached aloofness, a
total want of correlation between human thought and speculation and
Hesperiphonine affairs. Thus, while in the Yosemite in June, 1914, we
saw Grosbeaks repeatedly in the very trees which overlooked Camp
Curry. The voice of ‘the Stentor,”’ issuing nightly, undoubtedly made
the Grosbeaks quake upon their nests, but their secrets were as safe from
a thousand as from a single pair of inquiring eyes.
If ever this lady in the green bombazine dress should be detected in
the act of settling to a suspicious looking bunch at the end of a pine
branch, she will stand by her guns valiantly; and if incubation be ad-
vanced, she will almost suffer the hand before she will quit her post. The
male, meanwhile, if he is about at all, yelps in impotent rage and flits
distractedly from tree to tree; but it never seems to occur to him that he
might at least abstract a portion of the bird-man’s ear with that potent
beak.
It is important to append a caution against confusing this unique
and obscure “‘ Voice of Evening’’ with the more prosaic and abundant
Black-headed Grosbeak, Hedymeles melanocephalus. The two species,
both ‘‘Sparrows,’’ have nothing else in common beyond the trivial name
Grosbeak, a big bill, and partially overlapping ranges. They are not
1 See especially articles by Beck, Rollo H., Nidologist, Vol. IV., Sept., 1896, p. 3; Birtwell, Francis J., Auk,
Vol. XVIII., Oct., 1901, pp. 388-391; Willard, Frank C., Condor, Vol. XII., March, 1910, pp. 60-62.
144
The California Evening Grosbeak
even closely related, for there are at least four mutually distinct and only
distantly related groups of “‘grosbeaks’’ within the confines of the family
in America alone. These are the Coccothraustee, the Hawfinches, includ-
ing the ‘“‘Evening”’ Grosbeak; the Pyrrhule, including the Pine Grosbeaks;
the Guirace, including the Blue and the Black-headed ‘‘Grosbeak’’; and
the Cardinalee, including the Arizona Cardinal ‘“‘Grosbeak,”’ which all
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN EVENING GROSBEAK, R188/4-22
M. C. O., IN SITU
but attains our own borders. In view of these necessary distinctions,
it is unfortunate that a confusion should have crept into the pages of so
sedate an authority as the British Museum Catalogue of Birds’ Eggs.
The eggs described and figured (Vol. V., page 153, and Plate IX., fig. 1)
as those of Hesperiphona montana, the ‘“‘Montana Grosbeak,” taken in
Alameda County, California, are unquestionably those of the familiar
Pacific Black-headed Grosbeak, Hedymeles melanocephalus capitalis
Baird.
The nest portrayed in the accompanying illustration was found by
Robert Canterbury of the M. C. O. staff, July 9, 1922. He had been
directed to a likely locality, and upon hearing the ‘‘yelp”’ of the male bird
145
The Crossbills
had started “‘combing”’ the likeliest fir tree with binoculars. At a point
15 feet down and 9 feet out, though still 60 feet from the ground, he had
detected a suspicious looking bunch, from which, upon investigation, a
female Grosbeak dropped like a plummet, almost to the ground. The
eggs, looking for all the world like those of a Red-winged Blackbird
(Agelaius phoeniceus), were fresh, and the birds did not venture near
enough to afford decent photographs, although I roosted for an hour in
the tree top. Indeed, it was with a feeling akin to disgust that I saw
these timorous fowls moping about like wet hens, when the romantic
hopes of an odlogical lifetime were about to be realized. I could have
spared the lobe of an ear, gladly, upon demand.
No. 24
Red Crossbill
No. 24a American Crossbill
A. O. U. No. 521. Loxia curvirostra minor (Brehm).
Description.—Adult male: Tips of mandibles crossed either way; plumage
dull red (duller in winter), brightest on rump; feathers of back with brownish centers;
wings and tail fuscous. Shade of red very variable—English red to jasper red but never
vermilion. Immature males often present a curiously mottled appearance with greenish
yellow and red intermingled. Female: Dull olive-yellow, or better, brownish gray
overlaid with yellow; the color present on head and back as broad skirtings to feathers
having fuscous centers, on breast and sides more uniformly, and almost purely on
rump and upper tail-coverts; throat and crissal region with least yellow or none. Im-
mature (?) males are often indistinguishable from adult females, and it is not known
whether such ever attain the characteristic red plumage. Young birds are finely
streaked, dusky and buffy whitish, throughout, and everywhere more or less tinged
with yellow. Adult male, length 139.7-158.8 (5.50-6.25); wing 87.4 (3.44); tail 50
(1.97); bill 16.5 (.65); tarsus 16.5 (.65). Female very slightly smaller.
Nesting.—Not known to nest in California. ‘‘ Nest: in forks or among twigs of
tree, founded on a mass of twigs and bark-strips, the inside felted of finer materials,
including small twigs, rootlets, grasses, hair, feathers, etc. Eggs: 3-4, 0.75 xX 0.57
[mm 19 x 14.5]; pale greenish, spotted and dotted about larger end with dark purplish
brown, with lavender shell-markings’’ (Coues). Season: Erratic, February to October;
one brood.
Range of Loxia curvirostra—Europe, northwestern Africa, northern Asia to the
Himalayas, and northern North America, or south in mountainous districts to Guate-
mala.
Range of L. c. minor.—Northern and eastern North America, breeding in conif-
erous forests from northern Georgia to Nova Scotia, to Fort Anderson and to western
Alaska, southward through Pacific Coast district to western Oregon (Ridgway): (hence,
birds seen, but not taken, June 24, 1916, near Trinidad, Humboldt County, Cal., may
have been of this form); irregularly south in winter to South Carolina, Louisiana,
Nevada, and California.
740
The Crossbills
Distribution in California.—Of irregular occurrence in winter, chiefly in north-
western portion of State; has been taken at Pasadena. Possibly resident in summer in
northern portion of humid coast district. Not strictly a migratory species, but highly
nomadic.
Authorities.—Daggett, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 51; Grinnell,
Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 102 (crit.); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, pp.
73-74; Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. I1, 1915, p. 108.
No. 24b Sierra Crossbill
A. O. U. No. 521, part. Loxia curvirostra bendirei Ridgway.
Synonym.—BenpireE’s CrossBILL.
Description.—‘‘Similar to L. c. minor but decidedly larger; adult male averaging
rather lighter or brighter in color, the adult female slightly lighter and grayer.”’ (Ridg-
way). Also female averaging duller, less extensively yellow. Av. of 38 males, after
Ridgway: wing 92.2 (3.63); tail 52.6 (2.07); bill 18.5 (.73); tarsus 17.5 (.69).
Nesting.— Nest: As described by Preston, of twigs interwoven with fine grass
and pine needles, heavily lined with black moss (Alectoria fremontt) and some feathers;
diameter outside 4 to 5 inches; inside 2.50; depth outside 3 inches; inside 1.50; placed‘in
coniferous tree, settled deeply into protecting pine needles, usually toward tip of branch,
and at considerable height. Eggs: 3 or 4, dull greenish white, spotted and marked
sparingly, and chiefly at larger end, with purplish black, or else cinnamon dilution,
sometimes with a flush of faint purplish or a wash of ‘‘weak chocolate.”’ Av. size (10
spec., Preston) 21.8 x 15.2 (.86 x .60). Season: Not well defined; probably erratic.
Range of L. c. bendirei—Central and northern mountain areas of United States,
except Pacific Coast district; breeding south at least to San Bernardino Mountains in
California; ranging irregularly in winter, east upon Great Plains, south to Lower
California and Old Mexico.
Distribution in California.—Breeding range imperfectly made out, chiefly
Sierras south to Mount Whitney, but also Mt. Pinos (in Ventura County) and San
Bernardino Mts. Has been seen in summer in San Jacinto Mts., and in spring (Apr.
28, 1911) on Santa Cruz Island, where it possibly has bred. In winter irregularly
over lowlands wherever conifers of any sort offer. Was common about Santa Barbara
in winter 1919-20.
Authorities.—Newberry (Loxia americana), Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. vi.,
pt. iv., 1857, p. 87; Ridgway, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. ii., 1884, pp. 101-107 (desc.
of bendiret); Fisher, A. K., U. S. Dept. Agric., N. Amer. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, pp. 81-82
(record stations); Merriam, C. H., U. S. Dept. Agric., N. Amer. Fauna, no. 16, 1899,
pp. 123-124 (near Mt. Shasta; crit.); Grinnell, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 102 (critical) ;
Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 74 (critical; status in so. Calif.) ; Grinnell
and Swarth, Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., vol. 10, 1913, pp. 270-271 (crit.).
THE “EARLY NUMBERS” of the Sparrow family, the Evening
Grosbeaks, the Crossbills, the Pine Grosbeaks, and, to a lesser extent, the
Purple Finches and the Siskins, are among the most baffling and difficult
of birds. Their psychology exhibits a combination of preoccupied intent-
ness and indifference which puts them beyond the pale of ordinary stand-
147
The Crossbills
Taken in Fresno County i f Photo by the Author
ROUGH COUNTRY
BUT THE RESIDENT CROSSBILLS TAKE THE AIR ROUTE
ards. They are all a bit uncanny. And of all this mad coterie, the
Crossbill is perhaps the most eccentric. At a time a flock will deploy
through the tree-tops of a city park and feed in dead silence, while pedes-
trians troop by unnoticing. At another a passing trio of birds will fill the
air with sharp metallic notes which compel attention from any wayfarer.
Now the birds will flee noisily at the most distant approach of a stranger.
Again they will submit to the closest inspection as they crawl about the
lower branches of a cone-laden sapling. For no good reason, apparently,
a distant male will shout his distinct call from a tree-top. Others will
chatter amiably at your feet as they glean fallen seeds, and look up with
the trustfulness of petted hens. I recall how as a youngster I caught
one of these birds in midair by rushing him on such an occasion. Buta
Crossbill in the hand is still an enigma, a strange, foreign thing, evidently
not compounded of flesh and blood. For the rest, he is a wandering
voice—or a set of such voices—restless, intermittent, syncopated, vagrant.
And though we shall proceed now to sober discourse of habit, song,
and nesting, it will be under a haunting sense of unreality. As likely as
not a bevy of “‘those crazy Crossbills’’ will interrupt our task, and we
shall pause to note the fall and rise of each bird—flight as well as song
148
The Crossbills
syncopated—and we shall half shudder as the shouting mysteries in
feathers lose themselves in the no less mysterious depths of distant
conifers. How little of life may be snatched at in passing! We see; we
hear; we do not comprehend. It is gone.
The Crossbill undoubtedly owes its peculiar mandibles to an age-
long hankering for pine-seeds (using that word in the generic sense), a
desire fully satisfied according to the fashion of that Providence which
works so variously through Nature, and whose method we are pleased to
call evolution. The bill of the bird was not meant for an organ of pre-
hension, and Buffon, the Deist, once won a cheap applause by railing at
the Almighty for a supposed oversight in this direction; but as matter of
fact, its wonderful crossed mandibles enable the Crossbill to do what no
other bird can, viz., to pry and cut open the scales of a fir cone, in order to
extract the tiny seed with its tongue.
These birds are not entirely confined to a vegetable diet, for I once
detected a group of them feeding industriously in a small elm tree which
was infested with little gray insects, plant-lice, or something of the sort.
The presence of these insects, in colonies, caused the edges of the leaves to
shrivel and curl tightly backward into a protective roll. Close attention
showed that the Crossbills were feeding exclusively upon these aphides.
They first slit open a leaf-roll with their scissor-bills, then extracted the
insects with their tongues, taking care, apparently, to secure most of the
members of each colony before passing to the next.
Crossbills also feed to some extent upon the ground, where they pick
up fallen seeds and other tidbits. An observer in Washington first
called my attention to another purpose which the birds have in visiting
the ground. He had noticed how at certain places, and notably where
dish-water was habitually thrown, the Crossbills were wont to congregate,
and, turning the head sidewise, to thrust out the tongue along the bare
ground in a most puzzling manner. Suspecting at last the real state of
affairs, he sprinkled the ground with salt, and upon their return the
birds licked it up with great avidity. The birds do not appear to recog-
nize the salt at first sight, but soon learn to resort to established salt-licks
in open places. Others have reported similar habits in connection with
certain mineral springs, where sodium chloride is sure to be one of the
ingredients. When we recall that the normal food of the Crossbills is
pine-seeds, this craving for nature’s solvent is readily understandable.
The nesting of the Crossbill is known, but it is not well known, and
it never can be perfectly known, for the reason that each pair of birds,
or at least each community of birds, is a law to itself. There is, apparent-
ly, no published record of the nesting of this bird within the State of
California, and that in spite of the fact that it is numerically one of the
149
The Crossbills
commonest birds in the Sierras. The nearest I ever came to finding a
nest was near Victoria, B.C. The exact scene was a neglected, brushy
pasture, in which about a dozen lofty Douglas firs and tideland spruces,
standing well apart, had escaped the woodman’s axe. The date was
May 18th, and a couple of Crossbills tittering among the lower branches
of a nearby spruce had attracted my attention. Crossbills (of a pro-
vokingly neutral gender) were too common throughout this region to
deserve notice; but here was manifestly a pair. The male was a young
bird with touches of dull saffron only, while the female, though not duller,
was notably smaller, and also very much busier. She selected a twig
from a lower branch and made off with it through the air, closely followed
by her adoring and tittering mate. The pair disappeared into the center
of a giant spruce 200 feet away.
Back they soon came and I watched the female at close quarters as
she tried first one and then another of the small dead twigs. The twigs
were damp, however, and therefore tough. After she had tried a dozen
or so, pulling and twisting and fluttering without success, she desisted
and flew to the ground. Here she found exactly what she wanted, and
made off again to the center of the distant spruce. By a system of
approaches I presently discovered the object of her care, a growing bunch
of twigs settled upon a thick, dishevelled bough at a point about eighty
feet up and eight feet out.
The female never flew directly to the spot, but always lighted either
above or below it, and made her way by short, watchful steps. The
male, I found, did not always attend her closely, but often mounted guard
on some neighboring tree and tittered. And now and then he varied the
monotony of vigil by uttering a series of tender and endearing notes,
most of which came out in short staccato phrases. Song at last! And
this rare offering, this blooming of the cereus, was of the highest musical
quality. Here was an artist masquerading all these years as a sphinx!
Ah! how love unlocks the secret treasuries of song, and puts in play the
unsuspected chords. And why is love so brief? and the pursuit of pine-
nuts so inexorable?
The most notable of these song phrases bore a startling resemblance
to the anxiety notes of the American Pipit (Anthus s. rubescens): ter-
wil/lier, terwil'lier, terwil'lier. This phrase it is which makes you think of
wrens. Indeed, if I had been in the dry country or up in the mountains,
instead of at sea level, in ‘‘ Humid Transition,’’ I should have ascribed the
sound, unhesitatingly, to the Rock Wren.
Thus were the foundations of the nest-to-be laid in song. And lest
brethren of the odlogical fraternity (that sinister but solacing fellowship)
750
The Crossbills
should pluck me by the sleeve and ask, ‘‘What happened after that?’
I will add, sadly,—The next boat carried me back to Seattle.
In choice of nesting dates the Crossbill is probably the most erratic
of all northern birds. Having, as it does, a regionally variable, but
locally dependable, food supply, these birds nest whenever and wherever
the notion seizes them—it may be in January, it may be in October.
Indeed, it will not be surprising to learn that Crossbills have nested in
every month of the year. The quasi-migrations, for which the Crossbills
are notorious, are evidently determined by the abundance or failure of
the cone crop, whether pine or fir. Now the fruiting of the conifers is,
as every one knows, an exceedingly irregular matter. There is always
something doing somewhere, but your evergreen has learned to defy the
seasons; so, of course, the Crossbill’s calendar has been turned topsy
turvy. Communal life, therefore, is maintained the year around, in
spite of the occasional defection of love-lorn couples; and there is nothing
in the appearance of a flock of Crossbills in April to suggest that other
such are dutifully nesting.
The nest of the Crossbill is said to resemble somewhat that of the
California Purple Finch, but it is more compactly built, and much more
heavily lined. The female exhibits a tragic devotion to duty, once
confessed, and in some cases collectors have actually had to lift the bird
off her eggs in order to examine them. In one classical instance, recorded
by Dr. Brewer, of a nest taken early in March, the bird was not only
several times forcibly removed, but she insisted upon resuming her place
upon the nest as it was being carried down from the tree.
Of the distribution of our California Crossbills much yet remains
to be learned. If our breeding form is bendirez, then it is safe to say that
the birds have little occasion to leave the limits of the State, or even of
the mountains, in winter. They are always to be found somewhere in
the Sierras and in the San Bernardinos. Their occasional appearance in
the lesser ranges, provided always that they are more or less pine-clad,
is safely predicable, but it is not known whether they breed in such cir-
cumstances, or where. The most exceptional instance of recent times
was reported from Santa Cruz Island, where Messrs. A. B. Howell and
Adriaan van Rossem found them in numbers in April, 1911, (and up to
May 2nd), and where they believed them to be breeding. I saw nothing
of them in April, 1915, nor have any of our recent parties (1916, 1918,
1919, 1922) observed them.
I5I
The California Pine Grosbeak
No. 25
California Pine Grosbeak
A. O. U. No. 515b. Pinicola enucleator californica Price.
Synonym.—PINE BULLFINCH.
Description.—Adult male: In highest plumage, foreparts, breast, back (cen-
trally), and rump, rosy red (jasper to pompeian red); back with faintly darker centers
of feathers; lower belly and under tail-coverts ashy gray (light mouse-gray)—this
high plumage is the exception. In general, the rosy gives place to ashy gray in vary-
ing proportions; wings and tail ashy dusky; tips of middle and greater coverts and outer
edges of exposed secondaries, white. Bill dusky; feet blackish. Adult female: Similar
to male, but rosy replaced by dingy yellow (varying from olive-yellow and olive-
tawny to ochraceous) and chiefly confined to head, hind-neck, and upper tail-coverts
(where brightest); feathers of back frequently tipped with ochraceous, and breast
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
NESTING HAUNT OF CALIFORNIA PINE GROSBEAKS
BIRDS SEEN HERE MARK THE SOUTHERNMOST EXTENSION OF RANGE
with an ochrey wash. Immature birds: Exactly like adult female, save that males
sometimes show bricky red on head and rump. Length about 218.4 (8.60); wing
113.5 (4.46); tail 100 (3.94); bill 14.7 (.58); depth at base 10.2 (. 40); tarsus 22.3 (.88).
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size; large, rounded, conical beak; red and gray
coloration, for size, distinctive.
152
The California Pine Grosbeak
Nesting, as described by Ray.— Nest: A frail platform of coniferous twigs,
lined with fine, light-colored grasses, and settled carelessly upon horizontal branch of
conifer, well out from trunk; height in tree 16 (type) to 35 feet. Nesting altitude
7000-8500 feet. Eggs: 3; greenish blue (rich nile blue), spotted and marked with
vandyke brown or blackish, and with subdued olive-gray or dull lavender shell mark-
ings. Av. size 25.9 x 17.3 (1.02 x .68). Season: June; one brood.
Range of Pinicola enucleator—Northern parts of Eurasia and North America.
Range of P. e. californica.—Local resident of the central Sierras from Plumas
County south to northern Fresno County, and from elevation 6500 to timberline.
Authorities.—Cooper (Pinicola canadensis), Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci., vol. iv.,
1868, p. 8; Fisher, A. K., U.S. Dept. Agric., N. Amer. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, p. 79; Price,
Auk, vol. xiv., 1897, pp. 182-186 (desc. of californica); Ray, Condor, vol. xiv., 1912,
pp. 157-187, 17 figs. (desc. of nesting near Pyramid Peak); Hunt, Condor, vol. xxiii.,
Nov. 1921, pp. 187-190 (nesting near Blairsden, Plumas County).
THE AUTHOR may as well admit, first off, that he never saw a Pine
Grosbeak. He makes that humiliating confession, well knowing that his
own reputation as an ornithologist will suffer accordingly, but believing
that such an admission will also more accurately establish the status of
the California Pine Grosbeak as a reasonably rare bird. But if he should
add, in all fairness, that there are only five other mainland species of
regular occurrence in California which he has not seen in life, it may
serve to emphasize again the remarkably local character of the range of
Pinicola enucleator californica. lf one would see the California Pine
Grosbeak, whether in winter or summer, he must repair to the central
Sierras, and preferably to one of the six counties focussed about Lake
Tahoe; although there is an old record of one seen by Mr. Nelson “‘on the
head of the San Joaquin River,!”’ and Mr. Howell? secured a specimen
near Mammoth Pass, in Mono County, on July 31st, 1914. A member of
my party also encountered a pair near Twin Lakes in the throat of this
pass in June, 1919, and again in 1921 Mr. Carriger saw a pair near the
old stamp mill at Mammoth; but although I kept a sharp lookout for
three seasons in this same section, no other birds were seen. The Cali-
fornia Pine Grosbeak is unquestionably rara avts.
Our best account? of the occurrence of this species comes from the
pen of that veteran odlogist of the Sierras, Mr. Milton S. Ray, and I
condense the substance of his observations, supplemented by those of
W. W. Price,’ the original describer of the subspecies: The California
Pine Grosbeak is of very irregular occurrence, even in the limited area
where it has been known to breed. The experience of one season is only
1 North American Fauna, no. 7, May, 1893, p. 79.
2 The Condor, Sept., 1915, p. 206.
2 Condor, Vol. XIV., Sept., 1912, pp. 157-187.
4 Auk, Vol. XIV., April, 1897, pp. 182-186.
153
The California Pine Grosbeak
a slight index of another
season’s fortunes. The
fact that they do not
migrate or retire to lower
levels in winter seems to
be purely inferential, but
there is no reason for
their leaving the shelter
of the hospitable pines,
Pinus contorta, or the
still more hospitable al-
pine red firs, Abies mag-
nifica; and these trees, in
their prime, mark,
rather narrowly, the
zone of the birds’ actual
occurrence.
The birds are of a
decidedly plump, though
not ungraceful, appear-
ance, and the rich poppy-
red plumage of the male
makes a bright spot in
memory for one who can
distinguish it from the
duller and otherwise very
different appearance of
the Cassin Purple Finch.
Not all the males are
thus brightly arrayed,
for they breed in the
fulvous-and-gray plum-
age of immaturity (2) Taken in Eldorado County Photo by Oluf J. Heinemann |}
as well. PINE GROSBEAK COUNTRY -
anece @rociveniice PYRAMID PEAK IN THE DISTANCE
move about sedately and do not often attract the attention of casual
observers. On the other hand, they are remarkably fearless, or rather,
unsophisticated, alighting, as they do at times, within a few feet of the
observer. They are little given to sociability with other species, and
seem to live rather an independent, semi-lethargic and dream-like ex-
istence, where food is abundant and well assured. In common with
other pine-cone and browse feeders, they are very fond of salt, and in
154
The California Pine Grosbeak
company with Cassin Purple Finches and Western Evening Grosbeaks
they visit the upland salt licks where the sheep are baited.
The California Pine Grosbeak has a song which, according to Ray,
deserves to rank along with that of the Dipper, the Hermit Thrush, and
other major songsters. It is especially comparable to the song of the
Black-headed Grosbeak, but is, if possible, still more melodious, rich,
and varied. Unfortunately, the bird is not a persistent singer, and its
outbursts are as rare as they are uplifting. The bird has also a melodious,
two-syllabled call-note, which reminds one of the words, “All right.”
At the nest, or in intimate conversation with his mate, the Grosbeak
indulges a series of amiable twitterings very pleasing to the ear.
The Pine Grosbeak shows its affinities very clearly in its choice of a
nesting site. A rather frail platform of coarse fir twigs is heavily lined
with coiled grasses, and the whole is settled loosely upon some spreading
evergreen limb at any convenient distance from the ground or the tree
stem. The female is a sturdy sitter, and requires to be fairly poked off
if one would see the eggs. Although apparently indifferent to the presence
AS
y = Z SS
Taken in Eldorado County Photo by Oluf J. Heinemann
N/3 CALIFORNIA PINE GROSBEAK
BACKGROUND OF SNOW 16 FEET BELOW NEST
Courtesy Milton S. Ray and ‘‘ The Condor"
The Dawson Leuco
of the human stranger, the sitting female does not allow her mate to feed
her upon the nest, but goes to meet him in another tree, according to
approved precautions. Like the Cassin Purple Finch, she relieves the
tedium of incubation by an occasional foraging expedition on her own
account; and it is thus, we fear, that her business is betrayed to that
inquisitive exponent of science who has laid so many of the broad founda-
tions of our knowledge of birds. I refer, of course, to the under-rated
and over-despised oGlogist.
No. 26
Sierra Nevada Rosy Finch
A. O. U. No. 524, part. Leucosticte tephrocotis dawsoni Grinnell.
Synonyms.—CaLIFORNIA LEUCOSTICTE. DAWsON’s Rosy FINCH.
Description.—Adult male in breeding plumage: General color rich brown,
varied by rosy; top of head black, bordered irregularly by hoary ash, the ash including
lores and superciliaries and broadening on hind-neck; lesser and middle wing-coverts
(in richest examples, all exposed edges of folded wing), rump, and upper tail-coverts,
flanks, and posterior under-plumage, with touches on axillars and wing-linings, rosy
red (light jasper red or jasper pink, rarely jasper red), the red appearing as broad
edges of feathers otherwise brown or white, and variously intermingled, especially on
rump; remaining plumage rich brown (Prout’s brown), blackening on throat, varied
above by dark centers and paler edging, lightening posteriorly; wings and tail brownish
dusky, or hoary dusky. Bill black; feet and legs brownish black. Adult female in
breeding plumage: Like male but paler and duller with much less display of rosy.
Bill blackish. Adults in autumn (fresh plumage): As in spring, but plumage ‘‘varied
by white’ (lewco-sticte), and with increase of rosy; the feathers of breast skirted by
pinkish ashy in scaled effect; those of upperparts brownish-ashy-bordered; crown more
extensively white; the inner greater coverts and tertials broadly edged with brownish '
buff; the rump and posterior underparts more broadly tipped with jasper pink. Bill
yellow, darkening toward tip. Jmmature birds: Similar to adults in spring, but much
paler; in general, buffy ashy brown; feathers of back with darker centers; wings with
much buffy brown edging; rosy element much reduced, sometimes appearing only
upon edges of flight-feathers. Length about 165 (6.50). Av. of adult males (Grin-
nell): wing 104.6 (4.12); tail 70.4 (2.77); bill 11.1 (.43); depth at base 7 (.27). Of fe-
males: wing 99.8 (3.92); tail 65.8 (2.59); bill 11 (.43); depth at base 7.1 (.28).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; rich brown and rosy coloration; frequents
high altitudes. Cheeks not gray, as distinguished from the northern form, L. t. littoralis.
Remarks.—While the characters assigned for distinction between L. ¢t. teph-
rocotis and L. t. dawsoni are comparatively slight, they are supported by a wide dis-
continuity of range between the two forms. Theoretically, a gap of 650 miles in the
established breeding ranges of two related forms, not identical, should entitle each
to specific rank. It is for this reason, chiefly, that we attach weight to Dr. Grinnell’s
original description, as follows: ‘‘As compared with its nearest relative, Lewcosticte
156
Cittanr Saorve ip
VPLS
of the human stranger, the sitting female does not allow her mate to feed —
‘her upon the nest, but goes to meet him in another tree, according to
approved precautions. Like the Cassin Purple Finch, she relieves the
tedium of incubation by an oecasional foraging expedition on her own
account; and it is thus. we fear, that her business is betrayed to that
inquisitive exponent of science who has laid so many of the broad founda-
tions of our knowledge of birds. J refer, of course, to the under-rated
and over-despised oblogist.
No. 26
Sierra Nevada Rosy Finch
art. Lewcosticre tephrocerix. daysred Gnoal.
TeoatcoEe. > Ewes Bie sy Spweiay,
Seavey 4
Descrige hess enter seh brown,
bah Waa scpesses Teas + ushy Mer aph including
- fesset and middie witlg-coverts
+, TREND, ast upper tail-coverts,
ws and sing-linings, rosy
a Bpprariag as broad
Ss text! i i le especially on
Male. and female, abobraéilite isizekemiie on throat, varied
ging, Hghtening posicriecis; wings and tail brownish
Puli biack: feet and legs brownish black. Alduit female in
te but paler and duller with much less display of rosy.
} ! autyein (fresh plumage): As im spring, but plumage “‘varied
eure aad with increase of rosy; the feathers of breast skirted by
i) sealed ofect; those of upperparts brownish-ashy-bordered; crown more
waits. the lamer eveater coverts and tertials broadly edged with brownish ~
() agitt posterior underparts more broadly tipped with jasper pink. — Bill
‘ ind tip, Immature bivds: Similar to adults in spring, but much
ity ashy brown: feathers of back with darker centers; wings with
vrs edging: rosy clement uh reduced, sometimes appearing. only
re (6/56). Ay. of adult males (Grin-
t4 (gan: depth at base 7 (27): ° Ofte:
sale At base 7.1 (28).
a eoloration; frequents
Hehe neta torin, 2. b tltarales.
signed for Hednmenen herween L. t. teph-
(aibaranidly sheht, they are supported by a wide dis
tues two iorms. Theoretically, a gap of 650. miles in the
/ bee retard forms, not identical, should entitle each
: w, chiefly, that we attach weight to Dr. Grinnell’s
original deocripiinn, as fetluws: “As compared with its nearest relative, Leucosticte
teh
pr ay
SOE. RR
wee BAR
how
Scuthers. Length ai
{Pah FO Uy:
bait fr. (5G)
t&
Ler inaaleest, fy
Oe ae PAS
RRS WES Yeats
bb sh fer Vie Bae
ee =!
Cltian 43rv0ok & —
‘Le
4913.
The Dawson Leuco
Taken in Mono County = Photo by the Author
MAMMOTH CREST, A NESTING HAUNT OF THE DAWSON LEUCO
tephrocotis tephrocotis Swainson, of the northern Rocky Mountain region, in British
America and western Alaska, general coloration in all plumages grayer toned, less
intensely brown, size slightly less, the bill being distinctly less in bulk, and wing averag-
ing more rounded; juvenal plumage much grayer, especially anteriorly, both above
and below; breeding females less different, breeding males least different, but still
perceptibly less vivid in the chestnut about the head.”’
Nesting.— Nest: Placed in sheltered niche of mountain cliff or under boulder
of rock-slide; a thick-walled, tidy structure, compacted of moss or dried grasses, or
weathered vegetable fiber; lined indifferently with finer grass and occasional feathers;
diameter outside, 6 or 7 inches (mm 152-177); inside 2.50-2.75 (mm 63.5-69.8); depth
outside 3.00 (mm 76.2); inside 1.50-1.75 (mm 38.1-44.5). Eggs: 4 or 5, elongate
ovate, pure white. Av. of 10 specimens: 22.5 x 15.6 (.88 x .61). Season: June
(cliff nesters), July (moraine nesters); one brood.
Range of Leuwcosticte tephrocotis—Western North America, breeding in the
higher mountains from the Alaska Peninsula south to the southern Sierras, and in
winter deploying over plains east to Saskatchewan (casually to Minnesota) and south
to Nevada and Colorado. Eastern limits of breeding range in the United States
imperfectly made out.
Range of L. ¢. dawsoni.—At least the higher portions of the central and south-
ern Sierras from Nevada County south to Olancha Peak; also sparingly about the
higher peaks of the White Mountains; retires in winter to lower levels, chiefly easterly.
Northward extension imperfectly made out. Examples seen by Vernon Bailey Aug.
17 (1898) on Mt. Shasta (N. A. Fauna, no. 16, ‘“‘Shasta Report,’ p. 124) are likely
to have been transitional; not seen on Shasta in 1916.
157
The Dawson Leuco
Authorities.—Cooper, J. G., Ornith. Calif., 1870, p. 164, fig.; Fisher, A. K.,
N. Amer. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, pp. 82-83 (distr.; habits); Daggett, Bull. Cooper Orn.
Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 119; Dean, Condor, vol. vii., 1905, p. 112 (food); Ray, Condor,
vol. xii., 1910, pp. 147-161, figs. 43-54 (discovery of nest and eggs); Grinnell, Condor,
vol. xv., 1913, pp. 76-78 (desc. of dawsont); Dawson, Condor, vol. xvi., 1914, p. 41
(nest).
IN ONE SENSE at least the American Leucostictes stand at the very
apex of evolutionary progress. If life began, as the biologists assert, in
the depths of the ocean, then it is the ‘‘Leuco”’ who has carried life’s ban-
ner highest. Today he flaunts it from the mountain peaks, from Shasta and
Whitney no less than from Blanca and Baker and Robson. _ If lofty asso-
ciation means anything for character, also, the Sierra Nevada Rosy Finch
ought to be the very best of birds, for it is his privilege to spend a lifetime
wrestling with the eternal snows. Be that as it may—and we, perhaps,
are not able to set up the standards of bird ethics—there can be no doubt
that this exalted breed of birds constitutes one of the most fascinating
subjects for study which western bird-life offers. And because its ways
of life have been so long remote from ordinary observation, the Leuco-
sticte has been invested with something of the same sanctity which,
in the thought of Nature’s purest worshippers, clings about the vestal
mountains. It seems a sort of sacrilege to bring them down, these
vestal mountaineers, to ply them with questions of food and raiment
and manner of life. The author knows something of these things, per-
haps as much as any one, but instead of telling about them he would
rather sing a pean and draw the curtain of respect. It is one thing
to know the Eleusinian mysteries, but quite another to proclaim them
from the house-top. Your pardon, gentle Leucos!
A technical description of the Leucosticte’s wardrobe may be found
in any manual, and we pause here only to note that the rosy fringes and
flushes which decorate its sober browns are a common adornment in the
family Fringillide. There are, it may be, a hundred species of ‘“‘rosy
finches”’ at the very least, so that the attempted monopoly of the name
“Rosy Finch’ for our American Mountaineers is absurd and futile.
No more fortunate is the name ‘‘Leucosticte,’’ meaning ‘‘varied by
white.’’ The whitish edgings on this bird are few and obscure and in
no wise distinctive. The name ‘‘Leucosticte’’ is a jaw-breaker, and
the public will not stand for it. We are in a box. But since we are
in it, let’s make the best of it, and abbreviate our angel’s name to Leuco.
Never mind what it means; nobody pays any attention to Greek nowa-
days. It sounds distinctive, not to say expensive, and a wee bit endearing.
Shall it be “Leuco,” then?
158
The Dawson Leuco
Taken in Fresno County Photo by the Author
A TYPICAL FEEDING-GROUND: THE GRAND CIRQUE, LOOKING WEST
What, now, does our divinity—eat? To all intents and purposes,
snow. Watch a company of them deploy over a snowfield, hopping
sedately from crest to crest of the tiny ridges, or else escalading into the
pits which the sun has made. They are pecking industriously at the
surface as they go, and accumulating—well, not snow-flakes, nor yet
snow-balls, but frozen insects, instead. It is marvelous what a varied
diet is offered to these patient gleaners of the glaciers. The warm
winds wafted up from the great interior valley bear moths and beetles,
bugs and winged ants—they know not whither; and these, succumbing
to the sudden cold of the Sierran heights, fall in a beneficent shower over
the Leuco’s table. Doubtless a few predatory insects, in a more active
state, may be found. If it be asked what the predatory insects, in turn,
feed upon, I point to the black “‘dust’’ which lies scattered over the
surface of a June snowbank in such a uniform fashion that suspicion
is aroused. These tiny black specks, a score or so to the square inch,
are insects—of what order I cannot tell—insects not over a millimeter
in length and perhaps a tenth of that in thickness. Thus I saw them
in myriads about Mammoth Crest in 1919. What their little businesses
159
The Dawson Leuco
might be, I could not conjecture; but they were quite active, and, as
certainly, they were on their native heath. When one breathes upon
these insects, they disappear, and they do so by diving into the depths
of the snow—or, say, to a depth of three or four millimeters—down the
interstices caused by the action of the sun. There’s romance for you;
and there are, speaking in all sobriety, about forty billion of these snow
bugs to the square mile.
As the season advances and the area of the snowfields is reduced,
the Leucos resort to the south slopes of the peaks, where yellow-winged
locusts and deer-flies and the hardy butterflies, notably Vanessa cali-
fornica, hold forth. These they pursue on the ground, or else seize
in midair by dextrous leaps from below. They feed also at the lower
levels over the heather beds and in the vicinity of the cirque lakes. Once
I saw a company of these Leucos feasting on caddis-flies. So eager
had they become that they alighted upon the stones which protruded
above the water of a shallow lake, where they could seize the becoming
caddis-flies as they crawled out of their chrysalis cases. Although this
1 cae Gt
(kas @ 8 OSes ar
a}
y
>4
G(Gemm CABS sab
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
A SOUTHERN STRONGHOLD
SEVERAL PAIRS OF LEUCOS NESTED HERE IN IQII
160
it.
‘might be, J could mot conjecture; but they
g d y
Dawson Leuce
were quite active, and, as’
certainly, they were on their native heath. When one breathes upon
these insects, they disappear, and they do se by diving into the depths
of the siow--or, say, to a depth of three or four niillimeters—down the
interstices caused by the action of the sun. There's romance for you;
and there are, been in all sobriety,.about forty billion of these snow
bugs to the square mile.
As the season advances and the area of the snowfields is reduced,
the Leucos resort to the south sloy s of the peaks, where yellow- -winged
locusts and deer-flies and the hardy butterflies, notably Vanessa cali-
} These they pursue on the ground, or-else seize
in midair by dextrous leaps from helow. They feed also at the lower
levels over the heather beds an hin the vicinity of die cirque lakes. Once
formica. hold forth,
{ saw a company of these L So eager
had they become that they which protrude ed
i the becoming
Water GL 2 SRoHOw
Although this
: holo by the Author
A FOU x
. PAETRS OF Tt
Los NESTED HERE IN 107%
BEN ETT
The Dawson Leuco
was well below timber line, I never, save once, saw the Leucostictes
alight in a tree, and I have an idea they feel very ill-at-ease in such a
situation.
No bird, however, could be more thoroughly at home, or more
matter-of-fact in its behavior, about precipices or in ice-bound couloirs.
Whether in nest-hunting, mate-hunting, or in the ordinary quest for
food, a Leucosticte will flit from crevice to point up the face of a twelve
hundred foot escarpment as though it were a garden dike. The crannies
are explored in leisurely fashion in quest of lurking bugs; and if it is
mating time, the bird pauses to sing, or rather, chirp, from some eminence
that would make an Alpensteiger dizzy. The ‘‘bergschrund,”’ or chasm
where the rock-wall and ice-wall part company, has no terrors for the
Leuco. Once I saw a precocious infant (of L. ¢. hepburnt) which had
tumbled into one of these places some thirty feet in depth; but mama was
feeding him, and he was as cheerful as a cricket, expecting, no doubt
justly, to win out again after his wings were a little stronger.
Beyond the fact that the Sierran Leucos are mildly sociable at all
seasons, and definitely gregarious in winter, little is known of their
habits and economy, save as observed casually by campers and mountain-
climbers and, more definitely, by questing odlogists. Whatever may be
the popular or even Audubonian opinion of the last-named gentry, there
can be no question in any honest mind that science owes much to the tire-
less research of the bird-egger. Granting that it is the lure of the trophy,
Or early possession of a something, however trifling, which the other
fellow hasn’t got, which impels the prodigious toils of the odlogist, it
remains true that in four cases out of five it is the field odlogist who has
brought back the first adequate accounts, not only of nesting, but of
behavior and economy, of song and courtship, and of most that goes
to make up the vital interest of a bird.
So far as the records show, it was Henry W. Carriger who, in June,
1910, found the first occupied nest of the Leucosticte within the limits of
the United States. Certainly he was the first to find a nest of the ‘Sierra
Nevada Rosy Finch.’ This nest was taken on the 22nd of June by
Milton S. Ray from under a boulder, one of myriads constituting the
great weathered-out rock-field which covers the upper slopes of Pyramid
Peak (alt. 10,020 ft.), in Eldorado County, and within 150 feet of the
top of that mountain. This nest, n/4, now reposes in the cabinets of
the Woodland Heights Museum of Analytical Odlogy. To Mr. Ray’s
vivid and enthusiastic description! of the exploit there is little to be
added save the biographies of the participants.
The second set of eggs, n/5, now resting in the Thayer Museum, was
1 The Condor , Vol. XII., Sept., 1910, pp. 147-161.
TOI
The Dawson Leuco
taken by H. H. Kimball, June 20, 1915, at an elevation of 8900 feet.1 Iam
under the impression, also, that Dr. P. B. Moody, of Sand Point, Idaho,
has taken eggs of the Hepburn Leucosticte, a related subspecies, in Idaho;
but if so, the accounts were obscurely published.
The lure of the Leuco has always possessed a peculiar fascination
for the author since his first encounter with the bird (L. t. hepburn), in
1896 on Wright’s Peak, in Washington. In view of this special weakness,
he craves pardon for indulging for once in a historical resumé of his own
experience.
In July, 1900, a nest, which could have belonged to no other bird,
was found in a peculiarly exposed situation, just below the summit of
Wright’s Peak (alt. about 9300). The Leuco search was the motif of a
few days spent in the high Cascades in 1906, and again in 1907. On the
latter occasion an old nest and a nest containing young were found.
In California in June and July, 1911, a determined search was made
along the mountains accessible from our camp at the Cottonwood Lakes;
but although the birds were common at altitudes ranging from 11,000 to
14,000 feet, only one location was made during the season, and that one
accessible only to the birds. The nest, whose existence was attested by
visits of the male bird, was placed out of reach in a horizontal crevice,
thirty feet over on a cliff which overlooks Army Pass, and which is sheer
three hundred feet in height. By dint of going over the brink some fifty
feet further west, I succeeded in worming my way, face down, along a
ledge to the entrance of the crevice. It proved to be narrow, crooked, and
altogether impossible—whereat I spat, reflectively, 270 feet, and wished I
had never come.
On the 2Ist of July, 1913, while, in company with a dozen fellow mem-
bers of the Sierra Club, engaged in scaling the North Palisade Peak (alt.
14,254), | came upon a nest containing five young about three days old.
The nest was set well back in a cranny, which fronted a sheer drop of some
two hundred feet, and it must have been within six hundred or seven
hundred feet of the summit, say at an elevation of 13,600. This was,
apparently, the second California record.
In June, 1919, the field party maintained by the Museum of Compara-
tive Oology made headquarters in the throat of Mammoth Pass in Mono
County, at an elevation of 8500 feet. From this camp as a base we made
several visits to the higher altitudes of the southerly-lying ranges, and
spent eight nights in desultory camps made on rock ledges or rocky
moraines. The following account, beginning on June 18, 1919, sum-
marizes our experiences and fortunes.
It looked terribly steep, that north-facing snow-cliff which led down
1 John E. Thayer, in epist., Aug. 5, 1919.
162
The Dawson Leuco
from the Mammoth Crest, but the westering sun, backed by a searching
wind, urged a quick retreat to camp four miles away and 2500 feet below.
The snowfield reached the very top of the ridge, choking the throat of a
couloir and expanding below between massive cliffs several hundred feet
high. The left-flanking cliff was dark in shadow, but the east-flanking
wall was still bathed in sunlight. There might be Leucos down there; and
a slide would save miles of walking. Accordingly, I let go, pike-point
hard pressed against the rasping snow. The first hundred feet might have
been a parachute drop. The course was narrow. Ominous ledges sud-
denly flashed up at the side. The startled snow, half ice, rather, flew
up and engulfed my glasses. Steering had to be by instinct, and only
frantic efforts kept the hurtling pilgrim right end up. But soon the pace
slackened. Sun-kissed wells in the snow began to act as bumpers, and
motion ceased presently, while the heart was still in a sort of panic. A
Leuco spoke. Tearing off the blinded snow-glasses, I looked up—just in
time to see a female Leucosticte disappear into the face of an obliquely
fronting wall, and at a point a hundred feet or so up. Moments passed,
and still she stayed. ‘“‘A location,’”’ thought I, and backed off, slowly,
across the snow, with eyes glued to the mysterious spot, until I felt the
impact of the west wall, and, scarcely turning, clambered out upon a ledge.
It was a cold ledge but not so cold as the penetrating snow. Sure enough,
the bird has never stirred from that spot. But now comes a male sidling
up to a neighboring point and giving a chirrup, whereat the hidden female
darts out and joins her mate for a frolic. It is a probable location, albeit
unconfirmed.
Two evenings later, fortified by the presence of my son, William
Oberlin, a stripling of nineteen, I take up a station with him on the identi-
cal ledge which had witnessed the location. There is barely room on this
rocky shelf for two persons to lie down; and if one rolls off, why it is only
a hundred-foot slide over snow. We have brought up grub and blankets
and a jag of wood. While William makes camp, although it is beastly
cold, I man the binoculars and watch every bird that stirs over the snow or
works across the face of the towering cliffs beyond. There are birds in
plenty—for Leucos—say three or four insight at once. Usually two or three
are gleaning industriously over the face of the snowfield. The snow is in
full shadow and the birds are most active at this time, partly because the
glare of midday no longer blinds the eyes and makes snow work practically
insufferable, even for birds, and partly, no doubt, because it is the last
chance.
If there are nesting activities on, they are conducted sub rosa.
There is no eagerness to display domestic secrets. These must be ferreted
out. But there is lavish display of romantic interest. Males are chirping
103
The Dawson Leuco
Taken in Mono Counly Photo by the Author
SUNRISE LEDGE CAMP OF LEUCO NESTERS, 1019
“THERE IS BARELY ROOM ON THIS ROCKY SHELF FOR TWO PERSONS TO LIE DOWN”
loudly from vantage points; and as often as one of them discovers a female,
presumably unengaged, he darts down into her neighborhood, then sidles
over to her, hat in hand, so to speak, and pours forth a strident flood of
amorous professions. The antics in which one of these hot-hearted
bachelors engages are lush beyond description. If the lady will endure
his presence at all, the male fairly perspires adoration. His wings quiver
and his whole frame trembles. He turns about, slowly, in order that his
enamorata may see how his every feather is engulfed; or if he pauses, he
puts up a wing affectedly, as though to shield himself from the lady’s
overpowering glances. If the lady is cold—cold, but not impossible—in the
very extremity of despair the smitten one procures a wisp of straw, seizing
it by the middle, and bearing it about like a huge moustachio, the while his
eloquent pleas are pouring forth. By this act, of course, he signifies that
he speaks of conjugal affection. The lady must be won to a sense of
responsibility. The days are long but the snows are melting. “Oh, will
you? won’t you? say, why don’t you cast your lot with mine?”
These advances have various denouements. If the female is indeed
104
The Dawson Leuco
smitten, as must in the nature of things sometimes happen, the couple
adjourn to some cave among the rocks and carry out the purpose of love in
secret. If the lady is only shy, she sidles off, or flits, and there is instant
pursuit. The couple charge about like meteors amuck, and if they do not
dash their brains out, it is a good sign that love is not blind. But if, as
oftener happens, the lady is either previously engaged, or minded to try
out the young swain’s professions, she makes spiteful dabs at her admirer
while he falls back in pretended and ecstatic alarm. Oftener still, the
swain is addressing a law-
fully wedded wife, for it
seems to be his principle to
try all doors till one of them
yields. In that case, the
lady tells him quickly to
be off about his business,
and is obeyed, or else—
an avenging bolt falls out
of the blue. The lawfully
wedded husband, who nine
times in ten is on the job,
whether near or remote,
falls upon that young ras-
cal and either chases him
clear out of bounds, or ad-
ministers an actual drub-
bing. There seem to be
more males than females,
and it is proper form for
the ladies to be always at-
» tended in public by their
mates.
On this evening in
question we followed the
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author fortunes of a score of these
coe Eg ee eat ees,
sudden flights, but sorted
out only two events of any significance: A male bird fed his mate (or
young) once in a crevice only a dozen feet up on the opposite wall; and an
unattended female, who fed quietly over the snow for half an hour, had
such an authoritative way in “‘bouncing’”’ her unwelcome admirers, that
we kept our eyes focused upon her ultimate determinations. The signifi-
cant moment came. When the shades of night were gathering thickly, she
105
The Dawson Leuco
quietly withdrew from the field and lost herself, immediately, in a hole, one
of a dozen lying at the back of a great shattered niche in the wall, from
which tons of rock—a schistose granite—had recently fallen. This loca-
tion, 1f location it was, was forty feet below location No. 1, and fairly ina
vertical line with it.
Fearing above all else a premature attack, we left these prospects
to ripen, and visited instead the lower nest, where there was a suspicion of
young. Sure enough, there were five youngsters about five days old, ina
sturdy nest, which must have held its complement of eggs about June 2nd,
the earliest recorded or inferential date for Leucos.
Days of tireless and all but unrewarded quest followed. Beetling
cliffs began to lose something of their terrors, and if a bird disappeared
midway on a six hundred foot precipice, instead of resigning in despair, as
we had been inclined to do at first, we calculated soberly the chances of
approach by wells or ledges, or dangling ropes. A female, traced to a hole
eighty feet up on a sheer cliff, emerged presently with a white faecal sac.
No need to bother that nest, then. Another, 200 feet up and 200 feet over,
seemed more feasible, and we determined to try it later. In the meantime
we kept looking for confirmatory evidence regarding the early prospects.
We learned that the feeding visits of a male to his mate on the nest were
exceedingly infrequent. The females themselves, apparently, indulged
two feeding periods,—one about eight or nine o'clock in the morning, and
the other after sunset. In most instances, whether by male or female, the
approach to the nest was made by leisurely stages. Significant actions
were lost in the maze of casual appearances, or under a camouflage of
indifference. At last, however, on the evening of the 23rd, spying chillily
from our snow-and-rock-bound ledge, we had the satisfaction of seeing the
male bird visit the original location site, where he fed and departed. The
next morning we caught the unattended female, she of the shattered niche,
flying straight to her domicile, and disappearing. As luck would have it,
we were standing at the time on the snowfield immediately below, and saw
precisely which one of the twenty odd crevices she entered. It was time
for action.
The writer elected, for reasons which need not be dwelt upon, to di-
rect operations from below, while two of the party, my son, William
Oberlin, and our field assistant, Robert Canterbury, equipped with ropes
and pikes, made the lengthy detour and approached from above. The
cliff was full five hundred feet high, but the upper portion was receding and
graduated, by reason of the jointed character of the rock, into a sort of
grim staircase. The ‘‘steps’’ themselves, however, sloped sharply, and it
was no small task to get within forty feet of the nest from above. Here the
boys set their pikes in a fissure and attached a 150-foot rope, which reached
166
oyun yy ayy vq ydvibopoyd V UWod
puno199.10 4] ul IUIV TOTAL pur.acy IU, vonb.y pue.tr) out Jo [feq9q,
SHO Vong T oy,
The Dawson Leuco
the bottom of the cliff, with ten feet tospare. Down this William present-
ly descended. With a shout he greeted the appearance of the first nest,
and with another shout reported that its four eggs were fresh. The nest,
it seems, was set in a shallow cranny almost invisible from below, so that
the eggs were only four or five inches in, and the skirts of the scanty pile
reached the edge. The female had darted off when the rope was cast over,
but she returned now and circled the clinging lad with anxious cries. The
eggs were put hastily into a box, and the nest went into William’s hat,
after which he quickly descended a matter of twenty feet, where a tiny
ledge afforded temporary respite. Here he managed to pack the eggs
securely, to wrap the nest in tissue, and to lower them both to my waiting
hands.
The next site, a little to one side, is much more difficult. A deep
recess some twelve feet wide, eight feet high, and from three to six feet
deep, has been formed by the recent defection of a great block of schist.
The back of this cavity has been rent and shattered as by an explosion.
Some of the ragged fragments are ready to tumble at a breath, and the
overhang itself looks very unstable. I besought William to arrange his
loops for entirely independent action; but he neglected to do so at first,
with the result that when he did eventually cast them, as he was obliged
to do, they were not well placed, and one was non-functional.
It was fortunate that we had seen the exact spot at which the bird
entered, and that I was able to indicate it from below. Peeping in, the
boy saw the skirts of a nest set well back and quite unobtainable. The
overhang was so great that William had great difficulty in keeping in touch
with the situation. There wasnot sufficient projection from the cliff itself
to support his weight entirely, so he struggled with the diverse purposes
and functions of rope and knob. Finally, in desperation, he ascended the
rope a little and pried frantically with his foot at the most obstructive rock.
By alternately bearing down and toeing up he succeeded in dislodging it,
and it fell, a hundred-weight crashing amid a cloud of rock-dust. When
the air cleared, the boy beheld a handsome nest now scantily supported,
but holding four eggs apparently fresh, ‘‘93/4-19 Dawson’s Leuco.’’ Now
to retrieve them! He first tried the use of the box. With a foot on the
cliff, hugging in, and the other in the loop of the rope, and with the left
arm about the rope and the hand clutching the box, he reached up with
the right hand and abstracted an egg, when another supporting rock of
twenty pounds weight or so let go, bringing the nest down with it. The
boy frantically intercepted the nest while the rock placidly lighted on the
back of his neck. He succeeded in shaking off the incubus and at the
same time holding onto the nest amid the attendant smother of rock-dust.
This was, it must be confessed, a rather complicated moment. There was
167
The Dawson Leuco
evidently some atten-
dant language, more or
less | smothered by
rocks. Will says he ex-
pected to find an ome-
lette in the nest; but he
somehow managed to re-
place the egg which he
had clutched in his right
hand, and to remove the
whole mass, eggs and all,
to his hat. This he nec-
essarily gripped in his
teeth, and slid thirty
feet, to safety, without
more ado.
To his great delight,
and mine, he found the
eggs absolutely unin-
jured. Two perfect sets
of Leucosticte eggs,
worth, say, $400, ‘‘ex-
change,’’ retrieved on the
descent of a single line!
There was an exploit to
be remembered with
pride and gratitude!
Leaving the boys to
recover from their exer-
tions, I cleared, that
same afternoon, for a
distant prospect which I Soe Re ae , Dia a
had named the Grand SUNRISE CLIFFS—MAMMOTH CREST
Cirque, and where an WHERE TWO SETS OF LEUCOS’ EGGS WERE TAKEN WITH ONE CAST OF THE ROPE
elaborate system of
north-facing snowbanks protected by rugged peaks was nursing half a
dozen cirque lakes, whose waters eventually found their way into the San
Joaquin River. Arrived, toward evening, upon these happy hunting
grounds, I first paused to make camp on the upper reaches of the central
moraine. I don’t mind rocks for bedding—am rather fond of them, in
fact—but insist upon an approximate degree of horizontality. The bed I
constructed there of schistose slabs, levelled and matched to a nicety,
TOS
y « Bike a
The Dawson Leuco
amid a chaos of boulders, fills my heart with reminiscent longing at this
distant and comfortable moment. To live over again the early triumphs
of cavemen is one of the sweetest privileges of the Sierras. Thus fortified
by the certainty of slumber, I addressed myself for the remaining hours of
daylight to the snowfields and the cliffs, and soon had the satisfaction of
making a location. This was confirmed by a later, and enduring, visit of
the female, at a point midway of the main cliffs, and on a wall 425 feet
Taken in Fresno County Photo by the Author
SUNRISE ON THE LEUCO CLIFFS
high. Forbidding as the prospect appeared, I saw how it might, conceiv-
ably, be reached through a succession of wells, or deep fissures, whose low-
est ramifications extended to a tiny ledge which seemed to command the
very niche on which the Leuco had lost herself. Repairing, accordingly,
the next day to the peak (altitude 11,600) with Robert, who had joined
me, we contemplated the descent. It was not alluring. It was, in fact,
abominably steep, and a good bit farther than we had counted on. We
stripped to the barest necessities, save rope and pikes (both a mistake, as
the event proved), and prepared, with some little trepidation, to go down.
The passage may be described briefly as a well, a near perpendicular ledge,
and a well. The upper well was obstructed in two places by rock-masses
109
The Dawson Leuco
lodged in its throat. It was easy to pass behind the uppermost of these
obstructions, but the other forced us outside. There was nothing here
but two blank walls. Bob felt confident, but I was dubious. Finally,
I Jet him down with a rope to the first convenient landing, and saw
him climb up again, to prove that it could be done. Still a little timorous,
I had him let me down, by way of playing safe, till I got the feel of the
thing (we had but one rope and had to take that down with us). The
very walls here were treacherous, for their stability had never been tested
save by the soft-falling snow. Block after block I flung down as we
descended, so as to forestall the danger of attack from behind.
The upper reaches of the second well were occupied by a snowbank
and a slithering mass of treacherous accumulation, gravel and wash, all
too steep for occupation, but guarded on the outside by a ledge which we
had difficulty in descending. When the ledge rose again to the propor-
tions of a guardian wall, we were compelled to consider the well proper, a
black hole at least a hundred feet deep with about a five to one grade,—
that is, the bottom, about one hundred feet farther down, was about twenty
feet farther west. I first dropped a big boulder down, both because it was
threatening to go itself and to test the depth. Out from under the
5 Bs :
Taken in Fresno County Photo by the Author
LEUCO CLIFFS—THE GRAND CIRQUE—THE GRAND MORAINE IN FOREGROUND
770
The Dawson Leuco
ricocheting passage darted a Leucosticte, midway. Perhaps the damage
was already done, but, anyway, the fever for removing loose rocks was so
strong upon us that we sent others down the well, reckless of possible
damage to Leuco’s eggs. But cooler counsels soon prevailed. Anxiously
we thought, “‘Perhaps that Leuco’s nest is not very far back from the well,
after all.’’ So the larger obstructions which remained were lifted one by
ae
Taken in Fresno County Photo by the Author
DETAIL OF LEUCO CLIFFS: ALTITUDE 11,600 FEET
THERE IS A NEST IN THE FISSURE BELOW THE UPPER SNOW PATCH
one and passed up to be
cast off outside.
While we were de-
liberating as to the use
of the rope, the Leuco
fluttered into the well,
and lighted at the en-
trance of one of the pos-
sible side tunnels. Evi-
dently what she saw dis-
pleased her, for she flew
away again. Soon she
returned and went far-
ther, apparently cover-
ing the nest. But she
was ill at ease and her
quick departure filled me
with further forebodings.
Sure enough, when I had
wormed my way down
thirty feet or so, the
eggs flashed in view, four
of them, but one of them
marked by an ominous-
looking black spot,
which proved, indeed, to
be a gash. When [I ar-
rived, at last, at the nest
level, puffing and wet
and bedraggled—the
walls were oozing icy
water—I found that
every egg had been
struck by tiny flying par-
ticles of rock. Two were
quite badly caved, but
HgTe
The Dawson Leuco
all were savable, and the nest was an elegant and generous structure of
compacted mosses, which in itself would have been worthy of preservation.
The gloomy chamber in which the nest reposed was not over fourteen
inches in total depth from the Side wall, and the wonder is that the eggs
were not scrambled.
Of the further descent and of the discovery that the nest on the out-
side wall contained young birds a day old, | need not speak. We found
the rope was useless, because of the danger of flying rocks. We had to
keep close together, so that whatever was dislodged might not acquire a
dangerous momentum. We wormed our way up, therefore, as we had
wormed down, viz., by bracing our backs against one wall and gluing
palms and toes to the other. The round trip consumed exactly two anda
half hours. Viewed dispassionately from the outside, the undertaking
looks foolhardy enough. I am quite sure I would not go down the same
wells to recover a fifty-dollar purse; but I am equally sure that either of us
would go as far, or farther, for a set of Leuco’s eggs. ‘‘94/4-19 Sierra
Leuco”’ now reposes in the cabinets of the Museum of Comparative
OGlogy, and they are ot for sale.
Well; this is not a monograph of the Leucosticte—nor a biography of
the author. What follows must briefly summarize the experience of those
glorious days. It is only by spending continuously the months of June and
July in Leuco country that one comes to realize how sharply the resident
population of Leucos divides upon the question of nesting sites. The
cliff-nesters find their favorite sites available in June, and they, accordingly,
fall to early in the month. The moraine or rock-slide nesters expect their
home sites to be buried in snow until late in June; and, subject to the va-
riation of the seasons, nest complements may be expected in such situ-
ations at any time from the Ist to the 20th of July. The noisy scenes of
courtship, therefore, may extend from the middle of May to the middle of
July; but the actual nesting is conducted so quietly, so decorously, that
the inexperienced student is likely to be utterly deceived.
Theoretically, it ought to be very easy to trace a nesting female in
such exposed situations as constitute the habitat of the Sierra Leuco.
But, practically, one marvels when they do build. At least Leucosticte
psychology has not yet been codified. Some females transport materials
surreptitiously and spend days at it. Others build furiously while the
fever is on, and are done. One bird, which I had traced at midday, had
started her nest under a boulder on the side of the central moraine of the
Grand Cirque, at a point not three feet distant from the retreating snow-
bank, and ona level with it. She secured her material, grass and roots, by
the beakful on a young meadow some two hundred feet away; and in the
half hour during which I had her under observation she averaged a trip a
172
The Dawson Leuco
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
A MORAINIC NESTING SITE
THE NEST IS DEEPLY CONCEALED UNDER SOME LARGE BOULDERS
minute. On the minute schedule she would spend about forty seconds
gathering a load and fifteen or twenty seconds in arranging it; but I saw
her speed up to twenty and five, respectively. The male, meanwhile,
made himself useful by conducting periodical inspections, and offering
advice (unheeded, no doubt), but chiefly by mounting guard and chasing
off intruders. Needless to say, the birds did not resent my presence, for
concealment is impossible under the pitiless glare of a Sierran noonday.
When we saw a Leucosticte seize a blob of cotton-batting which had
blown off our ledge onto the snow, and bear it off in triumph toward a
neighboring moraine, we thought that our odlogical fortunes were made.
We dashed after her forthwith; but somewhere near the rocks an aérial
scrimmage developed into a quite spirited affair, in which half a dozen
Leucos and a snooping Clark Nutcracker figured. It was all over in a
moment; but when the smoke of battle cleared away, we saw nothing of
bird, cotton, or nest. A second theft was no more successfully traced, for
the fugitive had no sooner disappeared around a sharp turn than she gave
up all further interest in nest-building. A third, indeed, yielded a
location; but this was a matter of sheer luck, for the bird used cotton only
once, although tempting morsels were, by now, distributed all about the
moraines.
173
The Dawson Leuco
While it is true that the nest-hunter’s day is punctuated by such
episodes as these, the reader should be reminded that hours of unrewarded
vigil precede or follow these occasional flashes of revelation. The rigors
of the evening hours, which are the best for observation, are most right-
eously offset by the ardors of midday, when, if one is obliged to be
exposed, he feels more like a roasted marmot than a self-respecting
scientist. More than once under the intolerable glare I have confessed
myself “plumb leucoed,”’ and have beaten for shelter.
The nests of the Leucos are always fully sheltered. They are set
back in niches or placed under boulders, sometimes in chambers of
generous proportions, and always beyond the reach of rain or snow. The
birds show wisdom, too, in avoiding the established paths of falling rocks
or melting snows. The Leucos themselves are fully alive to the danger of
avalanches and there is an uneasy movement, or a sudden taking to wing,
whenever a rock-fragment “‘lets go”’ in their neighborhood.
Some of the nests are drab-looking affairs, especially where weathered
grasses are the only materials obtainable. Some, however, are wonder-
fully compacted of mosses, and are lined with feathers or other soft sub-
stances. An example in the M. C. O. collection
has a black flight-feather of the Clark Nutcracker
set at a rakish angle in its brim. Another boasts
a Rock Wren’s plume,
and has a lining of cot-
ton, feathers, and human
boyy
pod
Taken in the Grand Cirque Photo by the Author
THE OOLOGIST IN CAMP
AT THESE ALTITUDES (11.000 FEET) THE CAMPER-OUT IS GLAD TO TAKE REFUGE BEHIND A SCREEN
OF LIMBER PINE (Pinus flexilis)
174
The Dawson Leuco
hair. The nests are, naturally, of
the sturdiest construction, with
walls from one to three inches
in thickness, with hollows
deeply cupped. By rea-
son, therefore, of their
substantial character, as
well as their protected
situation, old Leucos’
\ nests will reward patient
search in almost any
part of our higher peaks.
Eggs of the Leuco are of
the purest white, un-
marked. Their shape is
ovate, or elongate ovate,
with an unusually sharp
decrease in size toward the
little end. This shape is said
to be characteristic, also, of the
genus Montifringilla of the Old
World; and the odlogical evi-
dence goes to show that the two
genera, Leucosticte and Monti-
fringilla, have a common origin.
The pace of the Leuco day quickens when these white ovals part and
naked babies, to the number of four or five, are born into this world of
snow-glare and hunger. The parents, however, have capacious throats, or
crops, and to obviate the handicap of a long haul, comparatively infrequent
visits are made to the nest. I have seen parents making trips every five
minutes, but ten- or fifteen-minute intervals are more usual, with half
an hour, or such a matter, for older birds. Food material rarely protrudes
from the parental beak, but the nature of the visit, whether parental or
conjugal, may be surely determined by the presence or absence of the
foecal sac, the laden diaper, without which no self-respecting parent will
quit the presence of his (or her) offspring. We should hesitate to in-
vestigate this intimate matter, were it not for the cocky assurance and
frank delight with which the fond parent bears off this lowly emblem.
He seems to come like the bearer of good news and beams a cheerful
“Family well,” in response to our courteous inquiry. Asa matter of fact,
this arrangement for rigid sanitation is one of the most marvelous and
commendable features about a well-appointed bird home. The infantile
Taken in Fresno County Photo by the Author
NEST OF DAWSON’S LEUCOSTICTE IN SITU
THE SET SHOWN IS I16/4-22 M. C. O.
L75
The Dawson Leuco
economy operates with the precision of clock-work. In goes a ration of
insects, out comes the wastage of a previous feeding, all done up in sanitary
white wrappings. The parent seizes the bundle and carries it two or three
hundred feet away before dropping it. The nest and its vicinage are kept
immaculate, and the bird’s arch-enemy, the Clark Nutcracker, has no
clew from careless ordure as to the presence of possible victims.
The little ones are silent for a day or so, but as their strength in-
creases they greet the returning parent with an increasing uproar of
satisfaction. The secret is out, now, for such as will hear, but it is not
until the day of first flight that the outcry of the youngsters becomes
incessant. Hearing that he was out, I pursued the firstborn of a certain
brood with photographic intent. But the youngster was wary. He
fluttered and chirped his way around the east wall, and then when [|
headed him off, he spread his little wings and flew clear across the amphi-
theater, a distance of near a hundred yards. He made a successful
landing on a ledge, but afterwards he fell into the bergschrund, from which
he was rescued, or coaxed, by his anxious mama. This youngster, once
out, cheeped without intermission for at least eight hours. I timed him
once, and he cheeped exactly 104 times in a minute. That’s 49,920
cheeps in a union day!
In complete contrast with this bantling’s behavior was that of a
baby sister (2?) whom I found sitting quietly on a rock-slide. When I
approached she said nothing, but started out
bravely, and tumbled in the snow thirty feet
away. Distinctly bored by this show of
bad form, she presently tried again;
and I’m blessed if she didn’t rise on
those little wings and make the west
wall as valiantly as her noisy brother
had done. Moreover, she sought a
well and hid quietly, while the
cheeper winged off for other fields—
much to our relief.
The Leucosticte is not, as I had
once supposed, songless. It would be
fair to say, however, that he is tune-
less. The ‘‘song’’ of the male con-
sists only of a high-pitched ecstatic
(for him) chirping, reeled off by the
minute and without definite inter-
mission. The notes vary so in Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
“quantity,” i. e., in length and inten- A FOOD-LADEN MALE ABOVE NESTING CREVICE
17
The Dawson Leuco
sity, that an effect as of several participants is produced by each performer.
Three artists at a time will produce a “‘din’’; but the resulting effect of
large numbers does not exaggerate the abundance of the birds. Most of
them are silent. During the courting season the chirping choruses are
kept up for an hour after the last rays of sunlight have faded from the
highest peak. The din so created reminds one rather unpleasantly of a
company of English Sparrows foregathering in an ancient ivy, and quite
too hilarious for sleep. Again, before sunrise, there is an outburst of tune-
less racket, followed very shortly by dead silence.
Akin to these strident chirps, but of very different function, are
the questing notes: z¢ee’0, zee’o; hootititeet. The first couplet, strictly
speaking, constitutes the inquiry, while the hooftititeet usually announces
the intention to fly to another spot. The entire cycle, then, may run
somewhat as follows: (alighting) zee’o, zee’o (ruffling of feathers); zee’o,
zee’o (shifting on perch) ; zee’o (feathers composed again—‘‘She evidently
isn’t here’); hootititeet (momentary pause—flight to neighboring stand).
The Leuco also indulges much sotto voce ‘‘slushy stuff’? in the near
presence of his lady love. If you see a Leuco come in from a hundred yard
flight, light on a stone and begin to gush softly, it’s ten to one his lady
is in hiding near by; and it’s three to one he knows exactly where she is.
Then there are scolding notes of various degrees of intensity, emo-
tional rather than functional expressions; and there is a mellow schthub of
inquiry, mellow and low, not often heard during the nesting season. Also
a lighter, casual note of greeting, inquiry, or appraisal, schthib, or schtlib,
matter-of-fact and unemotional. Lastly, there are hovering or flight notes
which are distinctly melodious and very difficult to syllabize. If the
Leuco is not a singer, he is by no means destitute of expression.
These are impressions of nesting time. What the bird does with him-
self throughout the long Sierra winters we scarcely know. It is certain
that he does not have as hard a time of it as some of his northern cousins.
But for the sake of comparison | append a condensation of Mr. E. S.
Cameron’s account! of the Gray-crowned Leucostictes (L. t. tephrocotis),
which he encountered in winter in northern Montana.
Mr. Cameron found that these birds arrived each season about the
25th of October, and departed about March 15th. At Miles City during a
February cold snap which registered 42 degrees below, the birds remained
moping about in the cottonwoods and appeared paralyzed with cold and
hunger. One which ventured into the house through an open door was
captured and kindly treated, but was too far gone to recover. In milder
times the Leucos are a prominent and charming feature of the prairie
landscape. They feed not alone upon the ground, but also over the weeds
1 The Auk, Vol. XXIV, Oct., 1907, pp. 402 & 403.
177
The Common Redpoll
and grass-tops, obeying now the individual whim, or yielding to the flock
impulse which sends them whirling away in erratic curves.
“Sometimes the flocks complete circles in the air, when they look
like a variegated wheel of birds, or fly untiringly about the cedar thickets
after the manner of Bohemian Waxwings. During snowy weather they
allow an approach to within four or five yards when engrossed with grass
seeds and withered dog daisies on the bare perches on the hillsides. If
forced to rise they sweep around in a dense cluster and immediately return
to the same spot,—their wings making a loud rustling noise. Rosy
Finches are very numerous at my ranch in Dawson County; I have seen
about a thousand at one time, by the water trough, distributed in the
pines, and on the ground. A long stream of birds may keep flying into a
draw for about a minute, and be all lost to sight in the long grass upon
alighting, but the same flock perched in a small dead cedar (completely
covering it) is a remarkable and charming sight.’’
No. 27
Common Redpoll
A. O. U. No. 528. Acanthis linaria linaria (Linnzus).
Synonyms.—REeEpDPoLL. LESSER REDPOLL. LINNET. LINTIE.
Description.—Adult male: Crown carmine; throat and breast broadly rosy
(eugenia red) in varying proportions according to season; frontlet, lores, and throat-
patch sooty black; remaining lower parts white, flanks and crissum streaked with
dusky; above variegated dusky, flaxen-brown, and whitish, the feathers having dusky
centers and flaxen edgings; rump dusky and white in streaks, tinged with rosy; wings
and tail dusky with flaxen or whitish edgings; two inconspicuous wing-bars formed by
white tips of middle and greater coverts. Female: Similar, but without red on rump
and breast, the latter suffused with buffy instead; sides heavily streaked with dusky.
Immature: Like female, but without crimson crown. Length 139.7 (5.50) or less;
wing 75 (2.95); tail 55 (2.16); bill 9 (.35); depth at base 6 (.23); tarsus 15 (.59.) Fe-
males average less.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler to sparrow size; crimson crown-patch in adults;
no dusky spot on breast.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: A bulky affair of twigs and
grasses, heavily lined with feathers, and placed in tree or bush. Eggs: 4 to 6; pale
bluish green, dotted and speckled with reddish brown or umber. Av. size 16.5 x 12.7
(.65 x .50).
Range of Acanthis linaria.—Northern part of Northern Hemisphere, south
in winter to middle temperate latitudes (A. O. U.).
Range of A. /. linaria.—As above, except Greenland and extreme northerly
sections of North America, where replaced by rostrata and holboelli, respectively.
178
The Common Redpoll
Occurrence in California.—Known only from report of J. M. Willard of forty
specimens taken between Nov. 30 and Dec. 23, 1899, near Eagle Lake in Lassen County.
Authorities.— Willard, Condor, vol. iv., 1902, pp. 45-46 (only Calif. record);
Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p. 109.
Ws, IPILAN IAN LU)
region of northeastern
California is especially
\ favored in the matter of
northern visitors; and it
is reasonable to suppose
that flocks of these
sturdy little Eskimos,
such as sweep down an-
nually through eastern
Washington and Oregon,
not infrequently reach
our own borders. There
is, however, only one re-
corded! instance, that by
Mr. J. M. Willard, of
Redpolls encountered
from Nov. 30 to Dec. 23,
1899, near Eagle Lake,
in Lassen County. This
observer says: “‘At first
I found only two large
flocks, but later numer-
ous smaller ones greatly
increased their number.
I ran into the first of
these flocks, well in a
3 forest, a mile or so from
Frocks. avalley. The birds were
circling about over the
tree-tops, twittering
noisily, much after the
manner of Spinus pinus
[the Siskin], and now and then they would settle into the upper branches
of some pine, to be off again almost before the stragglers had reached it.
Later the flock settled on the birches and bushes along a small stream,
alighting all around me. i - Late the same afternoon
I found another flock out in the sage-brush three-quarters of a mile from
REDPOLLS IN WINTER
1 Condor, Vol. IV., pp. 45-46
179
The Common Redpoll
the edge of the forest.’”’ Specimens secured showed that these birds
fed habitually upon birch buds, or upon the tenderer portions of the
Artemisia.
The comparison with Spinus pinus is quite apropos; but the student
is likely also to compare the Redpoll with the more familiar Willow
Goldfinch. The resemblance between these two species is a striking
one, both in form and appearance, as well as in habit and note. Once,
however, the eyes have been assured by a near revelation of convincing
red that Acanthis linaria linaria and not Astragalinus tristis salicamans
is before them, the ears remark also a slight foreign accent in the sweetie
call, and in the rattling flight notes.
As in so many similar cases, we are not permitted to know just what
the determining causes of a southern movement are. It is known that
the Redpoll can withstand the fiercest cold, even that of northern Alaska.
Possibly the migration is dictated by diminishing food supply. Or
perhaps it is “just for instance.’’ That will cloak our ignorance as well
as anything. And who are we that we should deny the birds the right
to be whimsical or erratic, or to answer, ‘“‘Oh, just because,’’ to our im-
pertinent questions? We got our own wanderlust from the birds, anyway.
While in the South, the Redpoll is little dependent upon the forests
and not at all upon the offerings of evergreen trees. It seeks, rather, the
open wind-swept plains, or the scanty shelter of willow-bordered streams.
It subsists partly upon seeds as well as upon buds, or ‘“‘browse.”” A
large flock may feed for half an hour at a time in industrious silence; or
else it may break out with a babel of pleasant chatter, very heartening to
the listening ear. Redpoll again proves kinship with Goldfinch by
eating thistle-seeds; and with Siskin by his extravagant fondness for the
alder catkin. Like a Chickadee, too, he rather prefers to cling to a
branch back downward, so that he can feed with head uphill. When you
think of it, now, it must be easier to let food trickle downhill than to
lift the head every time, or to gulp against gravity. These little rascals
have their reasons.
Redpoll’s manner is very confiding; and we are sure that he would
not begrudge us a share of his winter viands, if we cared for them. The
author is no hide-bound vegetarian, but he is gratified to record that a
‘“simple diet of grains, fruits and nuts’’ makes for contentment among
the birds, even at forty below zero.
As spring comes on, and the gentle hyperboreans prepare to return
to their native heather, one may see the deep-dyed crimson of full regalia
on crown and breast. But during the actual breeding season, we are told
by a competent observer in Greenland, Holboell, that the male not only
becomes exceedingly shy but loses his rosy coloring. It is hardly to be
ISO
The Pine Siskin
supposed that this loss of color is a protective measure, but rather that
it is the result of the exhaustive labors incident to the season. Nature,
in that forbidding clime, cannot afford to dress a busy workman in fine
clothes. It is noteworthy in this connection, also, that caged Redpolls
lose their rosy tints never to regain them.
No. 28
Pine Siskin
A. O. U. No. 533. Spinus pinus (Wilson).
Synonyms.—AMERICAN SISKIN. PINE FINCH. PINE LINNET.
Description.—Adult male and female: Above brownish buffy; below creamy
buff and whitish, everywhere streaked with dusky or dark olive-brown; the streakings
are finer on head and foreparts, coarser on back and breast; wings fuscous, the flight-
feathers light greenish yellow, or sulphur-yellow, at base, and the primaries edged with
the same color; the greater coverts broadly and the middle coverts lightly tipped with
buffy white; tail fuscous, all but the middle feathers sulphur-yellow at base. Bill
comparatively slender, acute. Young birds closely resemble parents, but are more or
less suffused with yellow throughout. Length 120.6-127 (4.75-5.00); wing 69.9 (2.75);
tail 45.7 (1.80); bill 10.9 (.43).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; conspicuous general streakiness; sulphur-
yellow markings of wings and tail, most noticeable in flight.
Nesting.— Nest: Saddled upon horizontal limb, typically of evergreen tree,
well concealed from below, usually at moderate heights; very variable in structure,
flimsy to massive and ornate; composed of small twigs, weed-stems, fibers, and tree-
moss, with a lining of fine rootlets and horse- or cow-hair, rarely feathers. An average
nest measures externally 4% inches wide by 24 deep; internally 2 inches wide by
1 deep. Eggs: 1 to 5; usually 3 or 4; pale bluish green, lightly dotted and spotted,
rarely scrawled, with dull rufous and blackish, chiefly about larger end. Av. size
17 X 12.2 (.67 x .48). Season: March to September, largely governed by altitude;
one brood.
General Range.—North America at large, breeding in higher latitudes, and in
coniferous forests of the West, to southern boundary of United States; also sparingly
in northeastern United States, and in the mountains of North Carolina; irregularly
south in winter to Gulf of Mexico.
Distribution in California.—In summer nearly coextensive with that of ever-
green timber; especially common in the higher mountains just below the limit of trees
and through the humid coastal portion of the State; also resident in the coastal region
south to San Francisco Bay. In winter occurs sporadically at lower levels, and is
attracted by evergreen culture, although not altogether dependent uponit. Casual (?)
upon Santa Cruz Island (April, 1915).
Authorities.—Heermann (Linaria pinus), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
ser. 2, vol. ii., 1853, p. 266; Cooper, Ornith. Calif., 1870, pp. 172-173; Barlow and Price,
Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 171; Carriger and Pemberton, Condor, vol. ix., 1907, pp.
18-19, 2 figs. (nesting habits); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, pp. 75-76
(status in s. Calif.).
IST
The Pine Siskin
—
Taken in Washington Photo by the Author
SIX LITTLE SISKINS
IT IS rather a sad commentary upon our childish predilection for
color, that the Goldfinches of California should be so well known, while
the more plainly colored Pine Siskin, who is in every way the ranking
major of the Siskin-Goldfinch group, should be known only to the ornitho-
logically elect. To be sure, Nature must have intended it so. The
plumage of Spinus pinus is a triumph of obscurity. The heavy, streaky
pattern, worked out in dusky olive on a buffy brown base, prepares the
bird for self-effacement in any environment; while the sulphur-colored
water-mark of the outspread wings barely redeems its owner from sheer
oblivion. This remark applies, however, only to plumage. In behavior
the Siskin is anything but a forgettable bird-person.
182
The Pine Siskin
Whatever be the time of year, Siskins roam about in happy, rollicking
bands, comprising from a score to several hundred individuals. They
move with energy in the communal flight, while their incessant change of
relative positions in flock suggests those intramolecular vibrations of
matter, which the “‘new physicists” are telling us about. When a bird
Taken in Washington Photo by the Author
A THRIFTY THISTLE SISKIN
(TRY SAYING IT OUT LOUD)
is sighted alone, one sees that it is the
graceful, undulatory, or “‘looping,”’
flight of cousin Goldfinch which the
social Siskin indulges so recklessly.
Many of the notes, too, remind
us of the Goldfinches. There are
first those little chattering notes in-
dulged a-wing and a-perch, when the
birds are not too busy feeding. The
koodayt of inquiry or greeting is the
same. But there is another note
quite distinctive. It is a labored, but
singularly penetrating production
with a peculiar vowel sound (like a
German umlauted u), ztim or zzeem.
So much effort does the utterance of
this note cost the bird, that it always
occasions a display of the hidden sul-
phur markings of wing and tail.
Too much emphasis cannot be
laid upon the value of this note as a
recognition mark. A review of the
pages of California literature dlis-
closes a tendency on the part of those
~who have observed the bird in win-
ter in southern California, to cackle
as though they had discovered an
exceptional occurrence, while, as
matter of fact, the peculiar ziim of the
Pine Siskin is one of the most famil-
iar of notes to those who know it. It
is rather the best thing about the
Pine Siskin, this greeting tossed down
from the upper air, as he passes on we
know not what heavenly errand.
Ziim—it is earnest enough; it is mel-
ancholy even;yet somehow it stirs the
IS3
The Pine Siskin
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
WHERE SISKINS NEST
LAKE GEORGE: MAMMOTH LAKE SECTOR
loveofthe wildinus. It isa call to fellowship with the simple, sincere things,
a call which wakes responsive chords in an honest heart. Adios, brother!
When fired by passion the Siskin is capable, also, of extended song.
This daytime serenade is vivacious, but not loud, except in occasional
passages,—a sort of chattering, ecstatic warble of diverse elements. The
bird has, besides its own peculiar notes, many finch-like phrases and
interpolations, reminding one now of the Willow Goldfinch, and now of
the California Purple Finch. The most striking phrase produced in this
connection is a triple shriek of the Evening Grosbeak, subdued of course,
but very effective. An ecstatic singer heard on the banks of the Eel
River in Humboldt County, used the chirp of the English Sparrow in-
stead of the shriek of the Evening Grosbeak in concluding its medley.
The bird would perch on the top of a redwood sapling just over my head,
and pour out a flood of mostly meaningless twaddle. One recognized it
as an intended anthology, but it was too incoherent, too childish, to be
identified. Then would come with startling distinctness this would-be-
fetching vocal masterpiece, chirp chirp,—moving one to a strange disgust.
Lest one should suppose we were exhausting the repertory of the
7S4
i
The Pine Siskin
Pine Siskin, I mention, as only one of many, a puzzling squeak heard
repeatedly near Trinidad, in Humboldt County. The squeak had the
quality and volume of the cry of the Fulvous Tree Duck. I should have
put it down to accidental resemblance and the source as a creaking red-
wood stump with fire-thinned shattered sides, but the notes were repeated-
ly and diversely heard with attendant zawms.
The Pine Siskin enjoys a peculiar and as yet imperfectly defined
distribution in the
breeding season. It
corresponds rough-
ly with that of ever-
green timber, but
makes exception of
the Digger Pine
(Pinus sabiniana
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF PINE SISKIN, IN SITU: LAKE GEORGE
Douglas), and, to a certain degree, of the Yellow Pine (P. ponderosa).
The birds’ feeding forays include all alder trees which are flanked by
evergreen timber, but the alders which line the southern streams at the
lower levels are visited only in winter.
Much of Siskin’s food is obtained upon the ground. City lawns are
favorite places of resort; these birds, together with California Purple
Finches, appearing to derive more benefit from grass plots, whether
as granaries or insectaria, than does any other species. They share also
with Crossbills a strong interest in the products of fir trees, whether in
cone or leaf. Their peculiar province, however, is the alder catkin, and
the tiny white seeds obtained from this source are the staple supply of
winter. Mr. D. E. Brown, of Seattle, has examined specimens in which
the crops were distended by these seeds exclusively. While the observer
is ogling, it may be an over-modest Kadiak Sparrow, a flock of Pine
Siskins will charge incontinently into the alders above his very head.
With many zews and zeems they fall to work upon the stubborn catkins,
185
The Pine Siskin
poking, twisting, prying, standing on their heads if need be, to dig out
the dainty dole. Now and then, without any apparent reason, one
detachment will suddenly desert its claim and settle upon another tree,
precisely similar, a few feet away; while its place will be taken, as likely
as not, by a new band, charging the tree like a volley of spent shot.
Nesting time with the Siskin extends from March to September, and
the parental instinct appears in the light of an individual seizure, or
decimating epidemic, rather than as an orderly taking up of life’s duties.
Smitten couples drop out from time to time from the communal groups,
and set up temporary establishments of their own; but there is never
any let-up in the social whirl on the part of those who are left; and a
roistering company of care-free maids and bachelors en fete may storm
the very tree in which the first lullabies are being crooned by a hapless
sister. Once in a while congenial groups agree to retire together, and a
single tree or a clump of neighbors may boast half-a-dozen nests; though
which is which and what is whose one cannot always tell, for the same
intimacy which suggested simultaneous marriage, allows an almost
unseemly interest in the private affairs of a neighbor.
Once embarked upon the sea of matrimony, the female is a very
determined sitter, and the male is not inattentive. In examining the
nest of a sitting bird one may expect the mother to cover her eggs at a
foot’s remove, without so much as by-your-leave.
The nest, in our experience, is almost invariably built in an evergreen
tree, usually a Douglas spruce (Pseudotsuga mucronata), a young redwood,
or, In the San Francisco section a Monterey Cypress. So strong is this
bird’s predilection for the last-named tree as a nesting site, that it will
repair to the orderly rows which bound properties in and about San
Francisco. Messrs. Carriger and Pemberton report! that of forty nests
of the Pine Siskin found in San Mateo and San Francisco counties, all but
one were in cypress trees, while the exception came from the very top of a
fifty foot eucalyptus. Since these gentlemen have made a very close study
of this species, I put the description of sites and nests in their own words:
‘Nests were usually about twelve or fifteen feet from the ground,
but notes show records of several forty feet up, and one fifty feet from the
ground. The site chosen was almost invariably about six or eight feet
from the trunk of the tree and upon the top of a good, strong, leafy limb.
The nests were well built, quite compact, and slightly larger than those
of the Green-backed Goldfinch whose nesting theSiskins’ closely resembles.
Nests were constructed of dry roots, grass and leaves from under the
cypress trees, and were generally, though not always, lined with consider-
able hair. The nests were always of the same material and could be
1 Condor, Vol. IX., Jan., 1907, pp. 18-19.
TSO
The Willow Goldfinch
distinguished at sight from nests of the western chipping sparrow, Cali-
fornia purple finch, and willow goldfinch, all of which birds were sometimes
nesting within a few yards of one another.”
The eggs are three or four, rarely five, in number, though sets of one
and two are not uncommon in some seasons. They are a very pale
bluish green in color, with dots, blotches, streaks, and occasional mar-
bling, of rufous and brown, chiefly about the larger end. They vary
considerably in size and shape, running from subspherical to a slender
ovate. Measurements of average eggs are .68x.48 inches.
Incubation lasts about twelve days, and the young are ready to fly
in as many more. The brood does not remain long in a family group
but joins the roving clan as soon as possible. We suspect, therefore, that
the Siskin raises but one brood in a season; and she undoubtedly heaves
a sigh of relief when she may again don her evening gown, and rejoin
“society.”
No. 29
Willow Goldfinch
A. O. U. No. 529b. Astragalinus tristis salicamans (Grinnell).
Synonyms.—CaLirorNiA GOLDFINCH. ‘‘WiILpD CANARY.’ ‘‘THISTLE-BIRD.”’
Description.—Adult male in summer: General plumage clear lemon-yellow
(“canary”’ yellow); a short crown-patch, including forehead and lores, black; wings
black, the lesser and middle coverts mingled yellow and white; tips of the greater coverts
and edges of secondaries white; tail black, each feather broadly tipped with white on
inner web; upper tail-coverts with admixture of white; middle of belly and crissum white.
Bill orange, tipped with black; irides brown; feet and legs light brown. Adult male in
fall and winter: Quite different, the yellow element usually reduced to a tinge on
throat, cheeks, and lesser wing-coverts; general color brownish olive (Saccardo’s umber),
paling on scapulars, rump, and sides, lighter (sordid buffy) on underparts centrally;
upper tail-coverts varying to pure white; crown-patch partially or entirely concealed
by olive; greater wing-coverts and tertials bordered by white or pale olive-brown.
Bill darker. Adult female in summer: Similar to male, but without black cap and
much paler and duller; upperparts dull greenish olive; underparts sordid yellow (pyrite
yellow), often with yellow element confined to anterior portion; wings and tail fuscous.
Adult female in fall and winter: Similar to adult male in fall, but without trace of
crown-patch. Young birds: Closely resemble adults in fall, but are more extensively
tinged with yellow below. Length of adult (sexes about equal): 127 (5.00); wing 70
(2.75); tail 44 (1:73); bill 10 (.39); tarsus 13.5 (.53).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black and yellow sharply contrasting;
conical beak; undulating flight; ‘‘perchicopee’’ note; willow associations. In con-
tradistinction from A. psaltria, note brighter yellow back of male, black crown-patch
reduced in area and more sharply defined. The females are indistinguishable out of
hand, save by association and notes.
Nesting.— Nest: A well-made cup, usually of compacted vegetable fibers,
finely shredded grasses, pappus of seeds, etc., settled in crotch of tree or shrub and
187
The Willow Goldfinch
made fast to supporting branches throughout its entire depth; placed at moderate
heights—s5 to 15 feet up in willow or sapling. Eggs: 4 or 5; ovate; pale niagara
green, unmarked. Av. of 28 eggs from Eureka (M. C. O. coll.): 16.5 x 9.4 (.65 x .47).
Season: May, June, July; one brood:
Range of Astragalinus tristis—North America from southern Canada to Lower
California, Mexico, and the Gulf Coast.
Range of A. ¢. salicamans.—Pacific Coast district from southern British Colum-
bia to southern California; and in winter south to central Lower California.
Distribution in California.—Common resident, of local distribution, chiefly
in Upper Sonoran and humid Transition zones, west of the Sierran divide. While
not found regularly east of the mountains, it shows some tendency to encroach upon
the desert via the larger passes, especially in winter: Palm Springs, Jan. 25, 1913;
but also Whitewater, May 27, 1913; Palm Springs, May 28, 1913; and Lancaster,
on edge of Mohave Desert, May 17, 1919. Affects riparian willow association, but is
by no means confined to it.
Authorities.—Heermann (Cardwelis tvistis), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser.
2, vol. ii., 1853, p. 266; Grinnell, Auk, vol. xiv., 1897, pp. 397-399 (desc. of salicamans) ;
Dwight, Auk, vol. xix., 1902, pp. 150-164 (variation, plumage, molt, etc.); Tyler, Pac.
Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, pp. 75-76 (habits at Fresno).
BRIGHT apostle of midsum-
mer! Herald and poet of sunlit
hours! How the drooping heads of
waterless daisies lift up when they
catch his cheerful salutation! Per
chic’ i chic',—Perchic' opee, says the
rollicking beak as he throws his pen-
dant loops of flight. Perchic-ichic,
perchic—and lo, the minstrel is sud-
denly quenched in a riot of thistle-
down. Or else it is a great fruiting
sunflower which has engaged his at-
tention, and he must pause upon the
instant and test the ripeness of those
luscious seeds. Dayick? Dayick? he
questions, but the stolid ranks of
little striped elves stand silent. They
are not quite ready yet. Whereupon
the happy minstrel remarks puchew
or chu wéé oo, in a forgiving voice, and
flies with an indulgent titter to an-
other prospect.
There are those who profess to
Taken in San Diego County find a tinge of melancholy in the
Photo by D ld R. Dickes me
Ree nes ee notes of the Willow Goldfinch; but
WILLOW GOLDFINCH,
ISS [i FEMALE, AT NEST
The Willow Goldfinch
that must be because the singer offers the same sweet strains when the
goldenrod is fraying, and the sered yellow leaves of willows are rattling to
the ground. For the rest, Sir Goldfinch is the very apostle of good cheer.
Spring or autumn, we learn to accept his passing notes as little bouquets
flung down from heaven. Per chic’opee perchic’ perchic’opee. Where is
the heart that will not treasure such an offering!
Of course it is the Green-backed Goldfinch which furnishes the
dominant element of California Goldfinchdom. Days will pass in which
never a Willow Goldfinch is seen. But the birds are always somewhere
about, at least west of the Sierras. If one frequents the willow bottoms,
the larger ‘‘Goldies’’ are sure to be seen; while gardens, orchards, edges
of clearings, and overgrown fencerows will get their innings. The
‘“‘Willows’’ mix freely with their cousins, the Green-backs, but the attach-
ment is not slavish, and a startled flock will, as a rule, separate into its
specific elements. Some confusion will always linger in the student’s
mind until the notes of the two species—and, for that matter, of A.
lawrencet as well—are thoroughly threshed out. Both species have
generic phrases and rattles, but these serve to link them rather with
Cousin Siskin, or Serinus even, than with each other. The song of the
Willow is often an artless and a breathless jumble of happy notes. They
are ecstatic and babyish, rather than studied; and so far as I know,
the Willow never plagiarizes, as do psaltria and lawrencet.
The Goldfinches are the only birds which may with any degree of
propriety be called ‘“‘wild canaries.’’ The true Canary, Serinus canarius,
is not, of course, a New World bird. But the phylogenetic relationship
between a number of these Fringilline genera, Spinus, Acanthis, Carduelis,
etc., is very close; and it is well known that the Goldfinch will cross with
the Canary, although the resulting offspring is, I understand, infertile.
The nesting of the Willow Goldfinch is not usually postponed to
such lengths as in the East, where fristis typicus holds forth. And that,
perhaps, is because the California bird is not abjectly dependent upon the
thistle for nesting material. Nesting takes place normally in May
or June; but the birds occasionally prolong their efforts into July; and
April nests are of record. In their later nesting the Willow Goldfinches
show some disposition to colonize. Nests are placed at moderate heights
in willow trees, in ceanothus bushes at the lower levels, or even in weeds.
In construction a wide range of materials is used, although a given bird
may limit herself to avery narrow choice. A nest before me is a mass of
willow down almost as pure as cotton; but there is structural support of
grass and rootlets. Another shows no cotton, but is a close-set structure
of grass, weed-stems, string, moss, catkins, dry leaves, flower-heads, and
rootlets, with a lining of brownish gray pappus.
V£X0)
The Willow Goldfinch
Four or five eggs of a delicate bluish green
constitute a set, and the female broods for four-
teen days. A like time or less is required by the
babies before they reach maturity; and when
they leave the nest they drone babee! babee! with
weary iteration until all but their doting parents
are driven frantic. The fledglings
are quickly inducted into the mys-
teries of what to eat and how to
rustle it; but they much pre-
fer to be waited on by their
parents. Most of the young-
sters, as a consequence,
are thoroughly“‘spoiled,”’
and the assiduity dis-
played by an overwork-
ed female Goldfinch
tending a batch of over- RG el arr a
grown squealers reminds Rae Re I ERWA RONDE OF
us, all too surely, of SUNFLOWER SEEDS” }
“home and mother.”
During the nesting season these birds subsist partly upon insects,
chiefly bugs, flies, and caterpillars; but at other times they feed almost
exclusively upon seeds. They are very fond of sunflower seeds, returning
day after day till the crop is harvested. Seeds of the lettuce plant,
turnip, and other garden vegetables, are levied upon freely where occasion
offers; but thistle seed is a staple article; and the steady consumption of
weed seeds, such as alfilaria, groundsel, and tarweed, lifts this bird into
the class of highly useful species.
In the winter season Willow Goldfinches are everywhere very much
less in evidence. They do not migrate, apparently, but they take on a
duller plumage, and they live more quietly. Just as the impression gets
about that they are gone, one stumbles upon a large company stealing
about in the tops of the sycamore trees, or else sunning themselves at
the edge of a ceanothus patch. If too much disturbed, they will perchic
perchic opee as of yore; but it is a pale reflection of midsummer glory.
Photo by the Author
190
Ailes, Amr 8 wat 5
The Willow Goldfinch
Four or five eggs of a delicate bluish green
‘constitute a set, and the female broods for four-
teen days. A like time or less is required by the
babies before they reach maturity; and when
they leave the nest they drone babee! babee! with
weary iteration until all but their doting parents
are driven frantic: The fledglings
are quickly inducted into the mys-
teries of what to eat and how to
rustle it; but they mich pr
fer to be watteci on
parents, Rivet «i
ster’, ak & sone
are thi
i (vere
me z ACR faken ef Los Colibris Photo by the Author
= ane cledeniorasdaass “THEY ARE VERY FOND OF
, we tee surely, of SUNFLOWER SEEDS"
Te ne and ieee Lot a ger
During the nesting geason, ph irds s~dsest partly upon insects,
chiefly bugs, flies, and a da ai S — they feed almost
exclusively upon seeds. They are very fond of sunflower seeds, returning
day after day till the crop is harvested. Seeds of the lettuce plant,
turmip, and other garden vegetables, are levied upon freely where occasion
offers; but thistle seed is a staple article; and the steady consumption of
weed seeds, such as alfilaria, groundsel, and tarweed, lifts this bird into.
the class of highly useful species.
in the winter season Willow Goldfinches are everywhere very much
jess in evidence. They do not migrate, apparently, but they take on a.
iiuller plumage, and they live more quietly. Just as the impression gets ;
about that they are gone, one sturables upon a large company stealing Pe
about in the tops of. the sycamore treea, or else sunning themselves at.
t teh. 8 ch disturbed, they will perchic
the edge of a ceancthus pati
ag
ferchic afer as of yor; tint ix
ca
oA
ot
Ps
S
r
maic retiection of midsummer glory.
MARSZIT I OAS
a
oe
The Green-backed Goldfinch
No. 30
Green-backed Goldfinch
A. O. U. No. 530a. Astragalinus psaltria hesperophilus Oberholser.
Synonyms.—“‘YELLow-Birb.”’ “WILD CANARY.”’ CALIFORNIA GOLDFINCH.
Description.—A dult male (no seasonal change): Pileum, broadly, glossy black;
sides of head and upperparts olive-green, or warbler-green, clearer, more yellow, on
rump, sometimes faintly streaked with darker, or blackish, on back; upper tail-coverts
chiefly black; wings black; the middle and greater coverts and tertials (variably)
tipped with white; both webs of inner primaries crossed about midway with white,
forming a conspicuous blotch in flight; tail black, the two or three outermost pairs
of feathers extensively white on inner web; underparts lemon-yellow, paling poster-
iorly, shading on sides. Bill horn-color; feet and legs brownish. Adult female: Like
male but much paler and duller, without black. Above dull olive (citrine drab); below
olive-yellow, paling posteriorly. Immature males are like adult females but brighter,
with early indications of black cap. Length of adult about 127 (5.00); wing 65.5
(2.58); tail 43 (1.69); bill 9 (.35); tarsus 15 (.59).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black cap of male not sharply defined
against olive-green of upperparts; coloration not definitely gray, and chin not black,
as distinguished from A. /awrencei; the commonest yellow bird of California.
Nesting.— Nest: Placed at almost any height but usually moderate, and in
almost any host,—tree or bush or even rank weeds; live oaks and sycamores favorites;
a rather careless affair of twisted grasses and weed fibers, deeply cupped, lined with
fine grasses or horsehair; settled firmly into concealing bunch of leaves or branching
twigs, or sometimes artfully incorporated with immediate setting. Measures 3 inches
wide (mm 76.2) by 2 deep (50.8) outside, 134 inches wide (mm 41.4) by 1% inches
deep (mm 38.1) inside. Eggs: 4 or 5, ovate, pale bluish green, unmarked. Av. of
28 spec. in M. C. O. coll.: 15.5 x 11.4 (.61 x .45). Season: April to June, or occasion-
ally in autumn; two or three broods.
Range of Astragalinus psaltria—Southwestern United States from central
northern Texas, northern Colorado, southern Idaho, and southern Oregon, south
through Mexico to northern South America.
Range of A. p. hesperophilus—Southwestern United States from Utah and
southern Oregon south to Cape San Lucas, Sonora, and the extreme southwestern
coast of Mexico; shows some altitudinal retirement in winter.
Distribution in California.—An abundant breeder below the Transition zone
and locally within that zone; most abundant along the southern coasts and in the
central interior; rare or wanting in the humid Northwest; apparently absent from the
central region east of the Sierras, at least above the head of Owens Valley and its
tributaries (White Mountains above Bishop, May 26, 1919; Hilton Creek, Long Valley,
June 1, 1919; near Mammoth Camp, June 11, 1919), although reappearing in Lassen
and Humboldt counties (Goose Lake, June 24, 1912; Surprise Valley, June 29, 1912;
Eagleville, July 12, 1912); of local distribution in the deserts; of limited occurrence on
some of the Santa Barbara Islands (Santa Cruz Island, April 4-19, 1915); and casually
on the Farallons.
IQ
The Green-backed Goldfinch
Authorities—Gambel, Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol.i., 1847, pp. 52-53
(habits and nesting); Atkinson, Oologist, vol. xi., 1894, pp. 240-241 (habits); Ridgway,
Bull. U. S. Nat. Mus., no. 50, pt. i., 1901, pp. 115-116 (crit. re arizone); Grinnell, Con-
dor, vol. iv., 1902, pp. 115-116 (crit.); Oberholser, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xvi., 1903,
p. 116 (desc. of hesperophilus); Beal, Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, pp. 73-75, pl.
vi. (food); Chambers, W. L., Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, p. 166 (nesting).
THE GREEN-BACKED Goldfinch
is, after the ‘“‘Linnet,’’ possibly the most
abundant numerically of the breeding birds
of central and western California. That
he is not also the most familiar can be due
only to carelessness or inattention on the
part of a too easily satisfied public. Gen-
tle, trustful, dainty, musical, inoffensive,
sociable, and abundant—these adjectives
certainly entitle their subject to the fullest
recognition on the part of Californians.
The Green-back, too, is a bird of all
seasons. It is well distributed at nesting
time, insomuch that a bird-lover may
scarcely cock his ears out of doors with-
out catching the plaintive sweetness of
the keyring call, near or remote. Spring
or summer, little companies of them will
foregather in the shade trees and raise a
little hurricane of song, breathless gladness
of childhood welling from a hundred child-
ish throats. In the autumn the Goldies
make common cause with the flocking
Linnets, and glean from the roadside,
or else straggle over the weedy meadows
by the thousand. At such a time the
telephone wires bear more than messages,
and what they carry is of more worth,
to my notion, than nine-tenths of what
passes unheeded beneath the birdies’ toes.
<8 There is no flock impulse or solidarity of
Taken in Santa Barbara County action among goldfinches. A great com-
Photo by the Author 5
pany scattered over the ground will melt
away somehow before the invader; but
the fear-thought is absent, and there is none to cry, Beware!
The pitch and volume rather than the cadence of the Green-backs’
GREENBACK IN TECALOTE
192
The Green-backed Goldfinch
notes remind some
people of their caged
pets (poor, tedious
beasts) and so our birds
get called “wild canar-
ies.’ But half an ear
will show that the
Green-backs’ calls are
sweeter and subtler,
with the tang of the
open and the breath of
active experience. There
is, beside, a_ plaintive
quality, a little hint of
bitter-sweet, about the
Goldfinch voice. The
bird asks questions of
life, Choo-1? choo-i? ques-
tions which it quietly
answers in a voice of
self-chiding: Chooti?
cheeo! Choo1? __cheeo!
“Why, of course; [|
should have known
that.”” As often as the
business of rustling food
compels the bird to shift
Taken in Riverside County Photo by the Author ground—and that is
NEST AND EGGS OF GREEN-BACKED GOLDFINCH, IN pretty often—it signal-
WADIRISES SENSI izes the movement by a
rattle, a musical rattle, like the titter of an excited school-girl. And when
attention is seriously turned to song, the bird evinces an astonishing
ability. Not only does it pour out a flood of musical chatter, sui generis,
but it deftly seizes the notes of all its associates. There is no time for
leisurely choice. Song of Flicker, Wren, or Pewee—everything goes, pell
mell, into the medley. Bird song is not so much imitated as appropriated.
At a single sitting, with a sprig of white sage for a platform and a grass-
covered hillside for a concert chamber, I have heard the following com-
posers so clearly represented that the ears were incredulous: San Diego
Wren, Western Lark Sparrow, Red-shafted Flicker, San Diego Song
Sparrow, Western Wood Pewee, House Finch, Western Gnatcatcher.
On this occasion another Goldfinch, probably a female, sat within six
I93
The Green-backed Goldfinch
inches of the singer, apparently entranced with his melody. Again and
again I have seen these uprooted forests of song swept along on the flood
of the Goldfinch’s own passion; and | think, more than ever, that music
is a spontaneous gift. Or else music is a circumambient ether. We have
only to get in tune, keyed up by some exalted passion, and lo! we vibrate
melodiously. At least it is so with the Goldfinch.
For the information of one of the older authorities, Dr. J. G. Cooper,
we will record that nests of the Green-backed Goldfinch have recently been
found. I am sure I do not know what could have befallen the good
Doctor the day he wrote! by way of summary: “I have not met with
their nests, nor with any description of them; but they doubtless much
resemble those of C. éristis.’’ Not met with them! Shades of Audubon!
Where were your eyes? For if there is one virtue which the Green-backed
Goldfinch possesses above another, it is that of propagating. Not
otherwise are the swollen ranks of hesperophilus maintained. Where is
the sycamore tree and where the cypress that has not sheltered the
Green-back’s humble cradle? Where is the weed-patch even that has
not resounded to the fsviz tsiii tsweetie of dainty fledglings greeting a return-
ing parent with quivering wings, and a soft flood of thanks? Has all
this good fortune been reserved for our day?
These Goldfinches not only nest eee
“most anywhere,” but they carry ge
their labors through the
seasons with relentless
energy. The birds are
in full song by February,
and although they do
not often nest as early as
March, they are all at it
in April, and all busy
until July. There are
three published records
of nests with eggs or
young found in October;
and one, that of John M.
Miller, of Parlier, of a
November nest. This
last held fresh eggs on
the 22nd, but in spite «Lavy GREENBACK
of the care of the parents, SOM ESEARL ESS” Taken in Ventura County
it was wrecked by hard rains a week later. ene ee OO cama
10Ornithology of California, Vol. I. Edited by S. F. Baird from the MS notes of J. G. Cooper, 1870.
194
The Green-backed Goldfinch
The range of choice in nesting sites for this species is very great.
Sycamore trees are an early favorite, because of the shelter promised by
its generous leaves. And in this connection it may be well to note that
most birds, whether ground or tree nesters, see to it that their nest is in
shadow through the middle of the day. The burning rays of the sun must
be avoided, at least by the tender nestlings. It is this fact, and not pre-
sumed escape from observation, which is the controlling factor in most
Photo by D. R. Dickey
Taken in Ventura County
BABY GREENBACKS
nest-building projects. The cypress is also a favorite with the Goldfinch,
and whether the nests be placed close to the trunk of the tree, or, prefer-
ably, well out toward the tip of a branch, is determined again by the shade
offered by some overshadowing twig or branch. Live oaks conceal their
myriads also. In this case, the bird, securely sheltered by a bristling
array of sturdy leaves, prefers the tip of a drooping branch, or at least
an outside situation. When the timber gives out, the Green-backs take
cheerfully to the major weed-patches, or even invade the open sage, to
take pot luck with Bell Sparrows and Bush-Tits.
IQ5
The Green-backed Goldfinch
In pursuit of her supremest duty, the Lady Green-back becomes quite
fearless. Not only will she sit quite close under approach, or suffer
removal from the nest by hand, but she is not even deterred at nest-
building by the presence of a stranger. Spying something suspicious in
the top of a slender sapling, I once climbed up a stouter tree and bent the
sapling over for inspection. Milady arrived just then with a load of cotton
blankets. Although she did look mildly inquisitive, she made careful
disposition of her load, and went and came as usual.
Eggs of the Green-back are described as pale green, greenish blue, or
pale blue. This really means that the greener of the two elements in the
color scheme fades out and leaves only a paler blue-green. But in any
event, the color of these eggs in the cabinet is altogether different from the
life color, for this fairy lantern is lighted from within by an orange-red
bulb. This may be necessary, but we do not recommend greenish blue
as a medium for the transmission of red light. Incubation lasts eleven
or twelve days, and infancy as much longer. Of the period of ‘‘sweet
dependency” which follows, none but a natural born kindergarten teacher
is qualified to speak. But like the man running for Congress, we will
own, first off, that these babies are the sweetest cherubs that ever were
invented. And that is very lucky, because the dear knows that there are
about thirty million of them per annum in California.
in
Taken in Santa Barbara County Photo by the Author
“HAIL THEN TO HIS INCREASING MILLIONS”
A MIXED FLOCK OF GOLDFINCHES AND LINNETS
796
=
The Lawrence Goldfinch
In view of this almost oriental fecundity, it is doubly fortunate that
the economics of the Green-backed Goldfinch is above reproach. Ninety-
six per cent of the bird’s food consists of weed-seed. Among the various
weeds which supply its wants, the Napa Thistle (Centaurea melitensis)
stands supreme. It would seem to be feat enough to pluck these tiny
seeds one by one, with their corrugated sides and bristling tufts, but the
Goldfinch cracks each brittle shell and, aided no doubt by its tongue,
extracts with consummate skill the starchy kernel. As an instrument of
precision the Goldfinch bill is hard to beat. And if it were not for the
gentle Goldfinch, even thirty million of him, our fields would all go to
thistle seed, and we might have to eat thistles for bread. Hail, then, to
his increasing millions! And if good old Doctor Cooper—peace to his
ashes!—ever does take a notion to reincarnate, we will undertake to
show him a Green-back’s nest.
No. 31
Lawrence’s Goldfinch
A. O. U. No. 531. Astragalinus lawrencei (Cassin).
Description.—Adult male in spring: General color neutral gray, paling on
underparts posteriorly; pileum, face, and throat, narrowly, black; breast dark yellow
(nearly pyrite yellow), everywhere sharply outlined against the surrounding gray;
rump yellow; back touched with yellow centrally; the wings black, heavily edged with
yellow; the tertials bordered with white; tail black, the three or four outermost pairs
of feathers heavily blotched with subterminal white on inner web. Bill light; feet
brownish. Adult male in autumn: As in spring, but back and sides of hind neck
brownish olive. Adult female in spring: Like male in spring but without black on
head and throat; duller. Jn autumn: Above brownish olive. Young birds are like
adult female in autumn, but yellow element is almost or quite confined to wing, where
also largely replaced by buffy brown edgings; breast faintly streaked. Length of
adult about 127 (5.00); wing 68 (2.68); tail 48 (1.89); bill 8 (.31); tarsus 13 (.51). Fe-
male slightly smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black chin and throat of male distinctive;
black, yellow, and gray in contrast; yellow on center of breast, in contrast with sur-
rounding gray, fairly distinctive for female; of irregular and local occurrence.
Nesting.— Nest: A rather loosely woven cup of highly varied materials,—
grasses, wool, weed-stems, and feathers; placed at any height in cypress tree, or at
moderate height (2 to 15 feet) in weeds, artemisia, elderberry bush, or small tree, as
liveoak. Eggs: 4or5, rarely 6, pure white. Av. of 18 eggsin M. C. O. coll: 15.5 x 10.9
(.61 x .43). Season: April, May, one brood. Extreme dates: Shandon, April 8,
1916, 5 fresh eggs; Claremont, July 5, 1903, 4, inc. begun.
General Range.—California and northern Lower California; in winter east to
Arizona (but chiefly at Colorado Valley points) and New Mexico (Fort Bayard,—
Stephens, MS.).
197
The Lawrence Goldfinch
Distribution in California.—Of very local occurrence in summer west of the
Sierras, perhaps chiefly in the southwestern coast districts, but also north through
Great Valley to McCloud River, in Shasta County (Grinnell) and east to Weldon,
Kern Co. (Grinnell), Raymond, Madera Co. (Grinnell), and Oroville, Butte Co.
(July 18, 1912); breeding chiefly in Upper Sonoran life zone; perhaps casual breeder
in Lower Sonoran (Indian Wells, Colorado Desert, April 27, 1917). Perhaps casual
on Catalina Island, but a regular breeder on Santa Cruz Island. Winters irregularly
in San Diego district and east of the desert divide to the Colorado River.
Authorities.—Cassin, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1850, p. 105, pl. v. (orig.
desc.); Heermann, Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol. ii., 1853, p. 266 (nest and
eggs); Henshaw, Rept. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1876, p. 239 (meas.); Belding, Occ. Papers,
Calif. Acad. Sci., 2, 1890, pp. 138-139 (range); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7,
1912, p. 75 (status in so. Calif.); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, pp. 76-77
(status in Fresno district).
IN STRIKING contrast with the almost infallible uniformity of
distribution enjoyed by Cousin Psaltria, is the highly irregular and freakish
disposition of /awrencei. Its breeding areas, though perhaps not incon-
stant, are exceedingly circumscribed, and its sporadic appearances in
other than breeding areas give the impression of a very unstable bird.
Doubtless it would be interesting to plot the breeding range of this species,
Taken in San Diego County Photo by Donald R. Dickey
LAWRENCE GOLDFINCH IN CYPRESS TREE
198
a
The Lawrence Goldfinch
iMstibution hs Cailfornia.
$ i
her rey, t
Cas s =
. F % y
Keepy EM tis * 3
piss H me.
> eer ¥
é
SCAT EIS
=i
iH
SATE Hee
very local oobeerenece’ in stummer west of the
mst Ginteiets, fut also north through
ovsty iarisdnell) and east to Weldon,
se. (inne, and Ocoville, Butte Co.
Sonoran life gone; perhaps casual breeder
“4 Desert, Aprit 27, 1017)... Perhaps casual
uz {sland. Winters irregularly
glorado River.
1850, p. 105, pl. v. (org.
: yol. il., 1853. p. 266 (nest and
-O95, p. 239 (meas.); Belding, Occ. Papers,
‘mast Avilauna, no. 9, 1913, pp. 76-77
ost infallible uniformity of
: the highly irregular and freakish
s, though perhaps not incon-
its sporadic appearances in
on of a very unstable bird.
PETG ae)
- nut the breeding range of this species,
The Lawrence Goldfinch
and to try to find out the determining causes which move its choice. But
published accounts of the bird’s notes and habits are very meager; and in
general, the Lawrence Goldfinch appears to have escaped both common
and critical observation.
The pattern of coloration of the male /awrencez is distinctive enough;
that of the female much less so; but as to the more significant distinctions
of habit and psychology, I can offer only notes upon the song and the
nesting habits. The Lawrence Goldfinch has no proper song of his own,
but renders instead a vivacious medley, which is even more varied and
extended and impetuous than that of psaltria. Thus I have heard repro-
ductions of Sparrow Hawk, Meadowlark, Lark Sparrow, Junco, Rock
Wren, Audubon Warbler, Plain Tit, Robin and Bluebird. One of these
roistering bodies sang for me at ten feet while I was aloft in a cottonwood
tree on the banks of the San Juan Creek. The singer was surcharged
with energy, and he swayed his head from side to side in the enthusiasm of
utterance,—a sort of combination electric fan and Victrola, never hesi-
tating for a moment when he changed records. Some of the minor links
of his song were undoubtedly his own; but the characteristic things were
shamelessly plagiarized. Among the minor notes is a pee udle, or piitidle
(umlauted) note, by which a sharp ear once aroused may trace the bird
forever after. While lawrence: lacks (I believe) the musical titter of
psaltria, it has a sharply penetrating deew deew couplet which answers
the same purpose. And there is good need to memorize these notes if you
would learn more of the ways of Jawrencez. For, sitting high in a budding
cottonwood tree, these Lawrence Goldfinches secure about the same
obliterance which their Cousin Green-back does in the sycamores. You
may spy one aloft because he is singing, but you are surprised a moment
later when a dozen emerge from the same branch.
Nesting, I find, is studied to the very best advantage in isolated
clusters, or in hedges, of the Monterey Cypress. Here the birds colonize
to some extent, and I have found as many as ten nests at once in two
adjoining trees. There is no flock impulse in this matter, however, for
along with uncompleted nests were others containing eggs, and others
still with young. In default of cypress trees, live oaks will do, or elder
clumps, or even the lowlier stations of the open sage.
April is the nesting month in the San Juan country. I have taken
eggs as early as April 8th; and Mr. Truesdale, I believe, has a record for
April 1st. The altitude here is about a thousand feet. In the more
elevated stations of southern California, the seasons may be prolonged
into June, or even July. Eggs of this species, unlike those of our other
goldfinches, are pure white—not even greenish white, as reported by
199
The Lawrence Goldfinch
Taken in , 3 : i : : Se : Photo by
San Diego County — sass 2 Donald R. Dickey
NEST AND EGGS OF LAWRENCE GOLDFINCH
Dr. Brewer.!| They are smaller than those of either ¢ristis or psaltria, and
bulk about two-thirds that of the former. The nests are exquisite crea-
tions, highly varied in construction and sometimes quite picturesque. A
dainty cup before me, an inch and a half in diameter and one in depth, is
compacted of wool, flower-heads, fairy grasses, horsehair, and feathers.
Another, of coarser construction, boasts several additional ingredients, but
dispenses with horsehair in favor of sheer feathers for lining. A third
displays a garland of protruding and highly nutant grass-heads, as chic as
a Parisian bonnet. The female, naturally, disputes the intruder’s claim
to such a piece of handiwork; but she does not often have to be lifted
from the nest.
Although irregularly resident in winter throughout its breeding
range, the Lawrence Goldfinch seems to prefer the deserts of Arizona and
New Mexico for a winter home. This east and west migration, having
1 Baird, Brewer & Ridgway, Vol. I., p. 479.
200
The Cassin Purple Finch
nothing of the economic insistence of the north to south flights, is a hap-
hazard affair. And by the same token, the Lawrence Goldfinch seems to
be a sort of haphazard bird.
No. 32
Cassin’s Purple Finch
A. O. U. No. 518. Carpodacus cassini Baird.
Description.— Young (?) adult male: Crown carmine red; back and scapulars
grayish red (light jasper red), mixed with brownish gray, and sharply streaked with
dusky; wings and tail dusky, with more or less edging of reddish gray; remaining
plumage, including rump, chiefly grayish red (jasper pink—never really‘‘ rosy’’),
passing into white posteriorly below; flanks and under tail-coverts sometimes sharply
streaked with dusky. Bill horn-color; feet and legs light brown. Adult female,
immature male, and old (?) male: Everywhere (save on wings, tail, and lower abdomen)
sharply streaked with dusky, clearly, on a white ground, below; above, on a brownish
gray or dull olive-buffy ground. Length of adult 152-165 (6.00-6.50); wing 92 (3.62);
tail 64 (2.52); bill 12.6 (.49); tarsus 19 (.75).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; red of crown contrasting with back dis-
tinctive as compared with C. p. californicus; general streakiness of female (and male in
more common plumage). The cast of plumage is less strongly olivaceous, and the
streaking is both finer and sharper, less blended.
Nesting.— Nest: Ona basis of interlaced pine twigs, rather bulky, is bedded a
firm cup of interwoven grasses, rootlets, fine bark-strips, and, if possible, horsehair.
The whole is usually settled in the bushy radiating tip of a pine branch, well concealed,
and at any height, from ten to eighty feet. Measures outside 5 or 6 inches (mm 127
to 152) wide, by 3 or 4 inches (mm 76-101) deep; inside 214-3 inches (mm 63-76) wide,
by 1-1% in. (mm 25-38) deep. Eggs: 4 or 5, ovate to elongate ovate; bluish green
(microcline green), spotted sharply and rather sparingly with light purplish gray, or
violet-gray, and black. Av. of 37 specimens in M. C. O. coll.: 20 x 14.8 (.79 x .575).
Season: June; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding chiefly in mountainous
regions and in Upper Sonoran to Boreal zones, from southern British Columbia south
to northern Lower California, central Arizona and northern New Mexico; in winter
from central California and southern Arizona south over Mexican plateau to Vera
Cruz, San Luis Potosi, and Valley of Mexico.
Distribution in California.—Common resident of timbered mountainous dis-
tricts, chiefly on semi-arid or eastern exposures; breeding in coniferous timber from
lower limit of yellow pine (Pinus ponderosa) to limit of trees. Center of abundance
in east central Sierras, rare in northern coastal ranges. Has not been reported from
cOast ranges south of San Francisco, but possibly occurs in San Rafael Mountains of
Santa Barbara County. Winter range imperfectly made out, but bird probably retires
to somewhat lower levels, and is known to deploy somewhat over foothills. Has
20T
The Cassin Purple Finch
been taken at San Jose (C. Barlow, Condor, II., 1900, p. 132) and Los Angeles (H.
Swarth, Condor, III., 1901, p. 66).
Authorities.—Coues, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1866, p. 80; Cooper, J. G.,
Orn. Calif., 1870, pp. 155-156 (voice); Townsend, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. x., 1887, p.
215 (on Mt. Shasta); Ray, Auk, vol. xx., 1903, p. 187 (nesting at Lake Tahoe) ; Grinnell,
Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., 5, 1908, pp. 89-90 (habits and nesting in San Bernardino Mts.).
ALTHOUGH possibly quite unknown to the stay-at-home element
of our populous coastal cities, the Cassin Purple Finch is, nevertheless,
among the best known and numerically most important birds of the State,
for he it is who is the authentic hillsman, the multitudinous mountaineer,
the genius loci of Sierra pine forests and of all timberline resorts. Roughly
speaking, cassini is the dry weather bird, the Eastsider, the ‘‘arid Transi-
tion”? species, while purpureus is the Westsider, the humid Transition
form. Although the ranges of the two species inosculate according to a
very complex pattern traceable along the western slopes of the Sierras and
the southern ranges, they do not appreciably overlap. The ranges of
C. cassini and C. mexicanus, likewise, are mutually exclusive, by reason of
the greater elevation of the former; whereas the ranges of purpureus and
mexicanus have a wide coincidence.
It is the camper-out of the high Sierras who sees the Cassin Purple
Finch at his best. The males are filling the forest with song throughout
the months of June and July; and the females are pouting, or else waiting
upon pouting children, throughout July and August. The word “pout-
ing’’ is advisedly chosen, for of all lady birds of my experience, the female
Cassin is, I believe, the least to be commended either for modesty or for
its presumed opposite, that neo-feminine virtue of self-reliance. In the
early days of courtship she may, indeed, be coy enough—the seasonal
promptings of nature are usually of tardier appearance in the female, but
once her consent is given, the female Cassin becomes either a wanton or a
clinging vine—or both. No sound is commoner, therefore, in the pine
forests of the upper levels than the coaxing note, oreé-eh oreé-eh, of the
female Cassin Purple Finch. It is delivered as often as not with quivering
wings, and unmistakably invites the attentions of the male, sometimes to
the visible embarrassment of that overworked, and consequently inatten-
tive, individual. Perhaps it is fair to call this oreeh a love note, but it is
delivered with the simpering insistence of a spoiled child. Ordered favors
come tardily, and the wells of spontaneity are easily troubled.
When the mating season proper is over, and there are eggs to be
incubated, she teases her husband for food, oreé-eh, oreé-eh. He is doing
the best he can, poor soul! but she vexes him with reminders. ‘‘Yes, yes,
dear. Don’t you see I’m doing the best I can? Oh, anon!’’ Perhaps we
do the lady an injustice, but we have seen what we have seen.
202
The Cassin Purple Finch
The male Cassin, on the other hand, is"a gallant suitor and a good
provider. When his heart is warmed with the fresh stirrings of passion,
he fills the woodland with melody. He twitters good-fellow greetings to
every passerby, and he tries the summits, first of one pine tree and then
of another, honoring each with a sprightly round of song. If the notes
are his own, they are poured out in a quick flood, lasting, perhaps, only two
seconds. They are somewhat lighter in character, less rounded and
mellow than the perfect flutings of the California Purple Finch. But
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
FEMALE CASSIN PURPLE FINCH ON NEST IN
LODGE-POLE PINE
there is dash and brightness about them which is infectious. Like cousin
purpureus, the Cassin helps himself freely to the common fund of wood-
land music. His obligation is unconscious—he is no mimic; but I have
heard Western Lark Sparrow (carried up several thousand feet), Western
Vesper Sparrow, Mountain Bluebird, and Western Tanager peeping out
through Cassin’s throat. Once, on Shasta, to our great delight, we heard
the theme of the Townsend Solitaire. The exalted opening was purely
Myadestine, but the quaver and jumble which followed were Carpodacine.
Another medley heard in the Warner Mountains contained songs of the
Sierra Junco, the Western Wood Pewee and the Western Ruby-crowned
Kinglet. If a musician is known, so infallibly, by the company he keeps,
we will not complain either of Cassin’s morals or his art.
203
The Cassin Purple Finch
He is an ardent lover, too. Once, upon hearing the note of a female
Cassin Finch—she was seeking food and very intent upon the job—I gave
attention and saw as pretty a sight as one could wish to see. A male in
resplendent red plumage lighted on the ground beside the dull-colored
female—or, more strictly speaking, he lighted at a distance of about two
feet—and gave a coaxing squeak of singular intensity. Meanwhile, his
crest was erected until it shone like a diadem of rubies, and he stood with
outstretched wings quivering in an ecstacy of passion. The female made
a spiteful run at him, whereupon he flashed away, and resumed, always at
a distance of two feet. Again and again the play was repeated, the male
resplendent with ardor and the female not even coy, only spiteful. Alas!
for the untimed ardors. Alas! for the love that wakes too soon—or sleeps
too late.
The great business of the Carpodacine life (the three species are alike
in this) is nesting. This impression of the preponderating passion is
heightened in the case of the Cassin Finch by the irregularity of the nest-
ing season. Fresh eggs may be found at any time from June Ist to July
15th, and that, apparently, with little reference to the ‘“‘breeding level”
(i. e., altitude of maximum activity for a given season) or the behavior
of neighbors. Here a love-lorn couple are playing with a few sticks, pre-
tending to build a nest—which as like as not they will presently tear down
and rebuild elsewhere—while yonder a pair of birds are feverishly attend-
ing a nestful of clamoring young.
In choice of nesting sites great preference is shown for the lodge-
pole, or tamarack, pine (Pinus contorta). The nest is usually settled into
the upper whorl of branches of a sapling, say, twenty or thirty feet high,
or else placed near the tip of one of the lower branches of a full-grown tree.
Having in either case the most thickly leaved pine twigs to depend upon
for support, the outer structure of the nest is of the flimsiest character,
usually a mere filling up of irregularities. The lining—and some nests
are virtually all lining—is most carefully constructed and of highly varied
materials. Horsehair is a favorite wherever obtainable, but feathers are
rarely used. For the rest, fine grasses, rootlets or flower pedicels are
staples; shredded bark, deer- and rabbit-hair or chance bits of cotton of
rarer appearance. A pullet’s nest is two and a quarter inches wide by an
inch and a quarter in depth inside. A mother in Israel requires a nesting
hollow three and a quarter inches wide by one and three-quarters deep.
A nest taken near our Mammoth Lakes camp we call ‘“‘the souvenir’
because it contains, besides bits of cotton and hemp, a selection of human
hair, strands from Barbarita’s golden locks, orthodox raven tresses in
abundance, and, | regret to add, a few threads of a compromising gray
which no one of our party would own to. Quite the handsomest nest in
204
Female on Nest
by the Author
’
Cassin Purple Finch
From a photograph
Taken in Mono County
The Cassin Purple Finch
the M. C. O. collection, however, is one which is lined with black horse-
hair picked out with bits of white cotton, and ornamented as to the brim
with a few sprays of the brilliant yellow-green lichen (Evernia vulpina).
A word, perhaps, ought to be said for the nest and the bird which
furnished the subject of our accompanying photogravure. I regret to say
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
TWIN LAKES (Alt. 8500 feet) AND MAMMOTH MOUNTAIN (Alt. 11034 feet)
A TYPICAL HAUNT OF THE CASSIN PURPLE FINCH
that so far as the lady is concerned it must be a somewhat disenchanting
word. The nest was sighted near the top of a small Murray pine (Pinus
contorta), say, 30 feet up and 4 feet out. Bird-nesting was our first busi-
ness that year (1921), but I decreed a temporary stay of judgment in this
case for photographic purposes. Arrived upon the scene and with legs
firmly disposed about the main trunk, I not-only found the female bird on
but the male standing by, waiting, as the event proved, for a chance to
feed his mate. I hauled up the camera by means of a small rope; but the
light was not right, so I had to forfeit some magnificent poses. I sat
within four feet while the male fed his mate, full tenderly, by regurgita-
tion. I was much instructed to note what a lengthy and tedious process
this was. While the female held her bill open, the male thrust food down
her throat by means of no less than 15 or 18 distinct convulsive efforts,
205
The Cassin Purple Finch
Taken in Mono County
Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF CASSIN PURPLE FINCH IN MURRAY PINE (Pinus contorta)
NOT IN SITU
each, apparently, successful. The female was so thoroughly stuffed that
she made deglutitive efforts from time to time for as much as five minutes
afterwards.
The female Cassin Finch was an ideal subject, but she was consider-
ably shaded by closely investing branches, insomuch that my first six
exposures were necessarily inadequate. But having secured ‘“‘something”’,
I ventured, for my last plates, to cut away the cover entirely, and found
to my amazement that she would stand for it. At minimum range, 2%
feet, I shot down with the Graflex (Heliar lens) upon the bird, now fully
exposed. Knowing that | had no more plates for the day, nor time on the
morrow, I| started to “‘collect’’ the nest, much against my photographic
conscience and judgment. To my continued amazement the female
allowed me to cut the branch at close range, and she did not quit her eggs
until I had her within eight inches of my face. When with the nest
branch in hand I extended it to its original position, she promptly sat
again, and this time I hauled her in until she was within four inches of my
206
The Cassin Purple Finch
face. This operation could undoubtedly have been repeated indefinitely,
but alas! my plates were gone.
Never have I been torn by more conflicting emotions than upon this
occasion, and never has the pathetic fallacy of avian domesticity been
more thoroughly discredited.
When I had packed away the eggs and wrapped the nest in brown
tissue paper and lowered it to the ground, the male and the female Cassin
Finch searched about over the nesting site in utter bewilderment; but so
far from sensing their disaster as a personal loss, they put in odd moments
copulating, and once I saw the wanton female mount the male and go
through the copulatory ecstacy. :
In the face of such a display it is impossible to be swayed longer by
anxiety or concern for domestic felicities in the bird. They are simply
the agents of overmastering instincts, through which Nature accomplishes
her benign purposes and achieves her infinite variety. . To interfere at
any point with these processes is no more a moral issue than is the wring-
ing of a cockerel’s neck when the pot waits.
ae me
Taken in Modoc County Photo by the Author
A NESTING HAUNT IN THE WARNER MOUNTAINS
207
The California Purple Finch
No. 33
California Purple Finch
A. O. U. No. 517a. Carpodacus purpureus californicus Baird.
Description.—Adult male: General body plumage dark red, or grayish red
(oxblood red, vandyke red, pompeian red, occasionally vinaceous rufous), clearest on
crown and upper tail-coverts, more or less mingled with dusky on back and scapulars,
passing into white on crissum and under tail-coverts; wings and tail brownish dusky
with reddish or bright brown edgings. Bill and feet brownish. Jn autumn, the color
slightly duller and more blended. Adult female: Above olive dusky in streaks, with
edging or gloss of brighter olivaceous; underparts whitish, everywhere, save on middle
abdomen, crissum and under tail-coverts, streaked with olive dusky, finely on throat,
broadly on breast and sides, shading into pattern of upperparts on sides of head,
neck, and chest. Immature male, and male in ordinary (?) plumage: Exactly like fe-
male in coloration. Length about 158.7 (6.25); wing 80 (3.15); tail 60 (2.35); bill
11.9 (.47); tarsus 18.3 (.72).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; dull rosy coloration of male (without
crossed mandibles), but streaky pattern oftenest seen. Male differs from that of
C. cassini in darker shade of red on crown, with less contrast. Requires careful dis-
crimination from C. mexicanus frontalis, with which it sometimes associates loosely
at the lower levels. Note greater extension of red, especially upon back; red usually
but not always of a duller hue. In streaked plumage, more olivaceous and with some-
what coarser pattern. More sedate in bearing, but song more vivacious and better
sustained.
Nesting.— Nest: A well built cup, composed externally of interlaced twigs,
internally of mosses, fine grasses, string, horsehair, cotton waste, etc.; placed on hori-
zontal or ascending branch of tree at moderate elevation (5 to 40 feet), and usually
at considerable distance from trunk. Measures 5 inches (mm 127) wide by 3 (mm 76)
deep outside; 2.25-2.50 (mm 57-63) wide inside by 1.25 (mm 31.7) deep. Eggs: 4or5;
ovate to elongate ovate; light bluish green (microcline green), spotted and streaked,
chiefly about the larger end, with dark olive-gray and a little black. Size rather
variable; a typical set from Eureka averages 20.4 x 14.4 (.80 x .57). Season: May-
June; one or two broods.
Range of Carpodacus purpureus—North America from southern Canada
south to the southern border of the United States.
Range of C. p. californicus.—Pacific Coast district, breeding from southern
British Columbia and Vancouver Island south to southern California and east to the
Cascade and Sierra Nevada Mountains. Although partially resident throughout its
range, many of the northern birds retire in winter, so that the population in south-
ern California is augmented, and a few pass as far south as the Santa Catalina Mount-
ains in Arizona (Scott).
Distribution in California.—Common resident of Upper Sonoran and Tran-
sition areas west of the Sierran divide, especially coastwise, and on the lower west-
ern slopes of the Sierras and southern mountain system. C. p. californicus is a
lover of cool weather and moisture, and its range is roughly complementary to that
208
The California Purple Finch
Ne. 33
California Purple Finch’ “
A. O.U, No. 517a. Carpodscus purpereus californicus Baird.
Description.-—4dult mele: General body plumage dark red, or grayish red
{exblood red, vandyke red, pampeian red, occasionally vinaceous rufous), clearest on
crown and upper tail-coverts, more or iess mingled with dusky on back and ‘scapulars,
passing into white on crissum and under tail-coverts; wings and tail brownish dusky
with reddish or bright brawn edgings. Bul and feet brownish. J autuma, the color
slightly duller and more } ed. Adult female: Above olive dusky in Streaks, with
edging or gloss of brighter ‘eous; underparts whitish, everywhere, save on middle ,
abdomen, crissum and under (ail-coverts, streaked with olive dusky, finely on throat, © a:
roadly on breast and aides, shading into pattern of upperparts on sides of head,
neck, and ¢
male in coloration. ie
43-9 {:47) tarsus 18,36
Kecosnition Marks.—-Sparrow size; dull rosy coloration of mate (without
sed mandibles), bur streaky pattern oftenest seen. Male differs from that of.
C. éassi va darker shade of red on crown, with less contrast. Requires-careful dis-
crimination from C. mexicanus frontalis, with which it sometimes associates loosely
at the lower levels. Note greater extension of red, especially upon back; red usually
but not always of a Cassin’s Purple Finch ac pper and with some-
a
what coarser pattern: ~ ore seGate mm Dearing, 0 re vivacious and better
sustained. California Purple Finch (lower) 4
Nesting — Nes: Mateslandifemales, about %slife sizecrnally of interlaced twigs,
iniernally of mosses, fine <5 From painting by Brooks) waste, etc.; placed on hori-
zontal or ascending branch of tree at moderate elevation (5 to 40 feet), and usually
at considerable distance from trunk. Measures 5 inches (mm 127) wide by 3 (mm 76)
deep outside; 2.25-2.50 (mm 57-63) wide inside by 1.25 (mm 31.7) deep. Eggs: 4 or 5;
ovate to elongate ovate; light bluish green (microcline green), spotted and streaked,
chiefly about the Jarger end, with dark olive-gray and a little black. Size rather
yariable; a typical set from Eureka averages 20.4 x 14.4 (.80-x .57). Season: May— pe
June; one sr two broods.
Range of Carpadacus purpurens—North America from southern Canada
south to the southern border of the United States. ;
Range cof C. p. californicus Pacific Coast district, breeding from southern
British Columbia and Vancouver island south to southern California and east to the:
Cascade and Sierra Nevada Mountains. Although partially resident throughout its
range, many of the northern birds retire in. winter, so that the population in south-
ern California is augmented, and a {ew pass as far south as the Santa Catalina’ Mount-
ains in Arizona ({Sectt).
Distribution in Califernia.—-Common resident of Upper Sonoran and Tran-
sition areas west of the Sierran divide, especially coastwise, and on the lower west-
ern slopes of the Sierras and southern mountain system. C. . caléfornicus is a
lover of cool weather and moisture, and its range is roughly complementary to that
208
By
The California Purple Finch
of C. cassini. The higher residents retire irregularly to the lower slopes and adjacent
valleys in winter. Casual in winter on Santa Cruz Island (Linton).
Authorities——Gambel (Erythrospiza purpurea), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
ser. 2, vol. ii., 1847, p. 53; Baird, Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 413 (desc. of
californicus); Cooper, W. A., Bull. Nuttall Orn. Club, vol. iii., 1878, pp. 8-10 (nesting
habits, nest and eggs).
TRUTH to tell, the people of California really know very little about
the ‘‘California’”’ Purple Finch. We owe the name (presumably good
advertising) to an accident of discovery rather than to the character or
prominence of the bird in California. The bird is not prominent at best,
even in those regions—our northern sister states—where its presence is
not overshadowed, as it is here, by that of the ubiquitous House Finch.
The Purple Finch is rather a demure bird, quiet and inoffensive, ‘‘of the
streaked streaky,’’ and those streakings of a dull olivaceous quality which
confers anything but distinction. The male, indeed, is entitled to a court
dress of wine purple, but this regalia is not often seen, and we do not know
to this day whether it is the badge of immaturity, or a mark of honor
conferred upon old age. And even this brilliance may escape attention,
for the bird’s movements are not advertised by rattles or chirps, as is the
case with so many of its cousins. A company of Purple Finches will feed
so quietly in a blossoming fruit tree, for example, that no observer would
suspect their presence, save for an occasional click of the mandibles. That
the Finches do some mischief at such times is undeniable. I have seen
them on a March morning, in Washington, feeding in the luxuriant bushes
of the red flowering currant (Ribes sanguineum). They pluck the flowers
assiduously, and either eat the fleshy part at the base, the tender ovary, or
else press out the nectar just above, or both. A flower is first plucked off
whole and held in the bill, while the bird appears to smack its lips several
times; then the crimson corolla is allowed to drop upon the ground, which
thus becomes carpeted with rejected beauty.
Like many related species, the California Finch is rather unwary, so
that one may study his behavior at close range. To this fortunate trait
we owe knowledge of the Purple Finch’s virtues as well as of his pecca-
dillos. Once as I was passing along my garden walk in August, several
of these Finches were frightened from the gooseberry bushes. ‘‘What!
eating my gooseberries too?” I frowned horribly. But one bird, pre-
sumably a young of the year, almost immediately returned to the very
bush against which I was standing, and resumed his avocation, which
proved to be that of gleaning caterpillars. Ata distance of four feet I saw
the bird search each gooseberry limb with the greatest care and devour a
naked green worm about half an inch long, which my own eyes could
scarcely have detected. Six or eight of these miscreants were devoured
209
The California Purple Finch
before the bush was pronounced clean, whereupon the zealous deputy
gardener flitted to another bush.
Because the Purple Finch is usually so unobtrusive, we are startled at
the first outburst of spring song. Nothing more spontaneous could be
desired; and the mellow, musical yodelling of this bird is one of the choicest
things allowed us in the West. The song is midway between a trill anda
carol, and has a wild quality which makes it very attractive. The notes
are so limpid and penetrating that one is sometimes deceived as to the
distance of the singer, supposing him to be in a neighboring copse, when,
in truth, he occupies a distant fir-top. Cheedooreédooreé dooreé dooreé
dooreé dooreé dooreé dreeetoreet may afford an idea of the rolling, rollicking
character of the song, but is, of course, absurdly inadequate.
It is interesting to note that an experienced orchestral musician,
Mr. F. N. Bassett, of San Francisco, rates the song of the Purple Finch as
supreme in musical quality, only that of the Black-headed Grosbeak
being, in this gentleman’s opinion, at all comparable to it in respect to
purity and rotundity of tone. According to this authority: ‘‘The
Purple Finch pours his song forth in notes like liquid pearls, unmarred by
poor tone quality or metallic accents. It is a finished performance of an
unassuming, finished artist. It is not so melodious as the songs of many
of our inferior singers, but the tone quality outclasses theirs.’”!
A master singer among the Purple Finches once entertained us from
the top of a fir tree a hundred feet high. He was in the dull plumage; that
is, without red; and although he sang briskly, at intervals, we were not
prepared for any unusual exhibition of vocal powers on his part. It wasa
long time, therefore, before we put the cry of a distant Steller Jay up to
him. Our suspicions once aroused, however, we caught not only the
Steller Jay cry, unmistakably, but also half a dozen others in swift and
dainty succession, after the usual Purple Finch prelude. I clearly recog-
nized notes of the Flicker, Steller Jay, Canary, Crossbill, and Bewick
Wren. These imitative efforts varied in correctness of execution, and
came to us with the distance of the original singer plus that of the Finch,
so that the result was not a little confusing, though very delightful when
explained.
During courtship this Finch will sometimes execute an aerial song-
dance, consisting of sundry jerks and crazy antics, interspersed with a
medley of ecstatic notes; at the conclusion of which he will make a sug-
gestive dive at his fianceé, who meanwhile has been poking fun at him.
Courtship, in fact, is a strenuous matter, and though the female is docile,
not to say amorous, after she is won, she knows how to exact the last
farthing of tribute from the wooer. Once I saw a suitor who had quite
1“The Gull,’ Vol. III., no. 6, June, 1921, p. 2.
2I0
The California Purple Finch
lost his head, and was
mouthing the approved
gibberish of infatuation.
Very young and very
silly he looked as he
stood with fluttering
wings and strident voice,
coaxing, coaxing, coax-
ing. He had a hand-
some red head, and was
not a badly put up bird
—hbut love makes us all
look foolish. So at least
thought the buxom and
spirited dame he was
suing, and the suitee
drove at him viciously
as often as he renewed
his suit. Again and again
she pursued him, now
knocking him headlong,
now merely driving him
from his perch; but ever
and ever the love-sick
swain kept up his unme-
lodious yipping,—and
the enamorata, mind you,
did not fly away. The
whole performance re-
minded me strongly of
the courtship of the Eng-
lish Sparrow, save that
Taken near Santa Barbara Photo by the Author the gallant did not stand
MISSION CANYON—A NESTING HAUNT OF THE CALIFORNIA PURPLE his ground as well as does
HINCH Cock Sparrow; and the
lady,—well, perhaps she was even more unreasonable and vicious. But
this kind makes the very best wives, they say.
Of the nesting of the California Purple Finch very little appears to be
known, and nothing of moment written. I have found nests on only one
occasion, near Santa Barbara, although I am persuaded that the birds
breed regu'arly along our creek bottoms. A nest containing two eggs was
found on the 27th of May, 1915, settled among the branching terminal
BUTE
The California Linnet
twigs of a live oak tree, at a height of thirty feet. Unfortunately, the
California Jays robbed the nest, as they did another in the same grove;
and so far as observation went, a small colony of these finches were prac-
tically prevented from nesting in that locality.
Nests are placed, preferably, near water, in evergreen or deciduous
trees, and at heights varying from six to forty feet. They usually occur
on a bough at some distance from the trunk of a supporting tree, seldom
or never being found in a crotch. Composed externally of twigs, they
are lined copiously with green moss, horsehair, and string; and contain
four or five handsome blue-green eggs, spotted and dashed with violet
and black.
Two broods are probably brought off in a season, the first about the
20th of May and the second a month or so later. A sitting female outdoes
a Siskin in her devotion to duty, and not infrequently requires to be lifted
from her eggs. The male trusts everything to his wife upon these occa-
sions, but is on hand to do his share of the work when it comes to feeding
the babies.
No. 34
California Linnet
A. O. U. No. 519. Carpodacus mexicanus frontalis (Say).
Synonyms.—CAaLIFORNIA HOUSE FINCH. CRIMSON-FRONTED FINCH. BURION.
Description.— Adult male in highest spring plumage: Head and neck all around,
throat, and breast, broadly, and rump, rich red (carmine, light carmine, or nopal
red), or, rarely, tinged with orange; upper back more or less tinged with the same
shade (but red never so widely diffused above asin C. purpureus californicus) ; remaining
upperparts, wings, and tail brownish gray, or fuscous; margins of feathers vaguely
paler; remaining underparts whitish, finely streaked with brownish gray (much more
streaked than C. purpureus). Bill horn-color; feet and legs dark brown. Jn autumn,
the reds duller (grayer), more blended, and more widely diffused; the intensity of red,
especially, reduced on crown, where varied by darker centers to feathers (pure only
on forehead); the wings with many edgings of pinkish, or brownish buffy, not present
in spring. In this plumage the appearance of C. m. frontalis very closely approximates
that of C. purpureus, the chief distinguishing mark being the presence of numerous
and distinct dusky streaks on the posterior underparts, and their more buffy back-
ground. Adult female in spring: Above dull grayish brown, streaked with darker;
below dull white, sharply and finely streaked with grayish brown or dusky; wings and
tail grayish brown without distinguishing marks. Adult female in fresh fall plumage:
Above, plumage more blended; wings with some marginings of lighter (buffy gray);
UZ,
* ‘The oaiurnia Linnet :
twigs of a jive oak tree, at a height of thirty feet. Unfortunately, the
California Jays robbed the nest, as they did another in the same grove;
and so far as observation went, a small colony of these finches were prac-
tically prevented from nesting in that locality.
Nests are placed, preferably, near water, in evergreen or dieccee
trees, and at heights varying from six to forty feet. They usually occur
ona bough at some distance from ihe trunk of a supporting tree, seldom
or never being found in a crotch. Composeéd externally of twigs, they
are lined copiously with green moss, horsehair, and string; and contain
four or five handsome blue-green eggs, spotted and dashed with violet
and black.
Two broods are probably brought off in a season, the first about the
20th of May aiid the second a month or so later. A sitting female outdoes
a Siskin.in her devetion to duty, and not infrequently requires to be lifted
from her eggs. The male trusts everything to his wife upon these occa-
sions, but is oa hand te do his share of the work when it comes to feeding
the babies, >
California Linnet
‘Caiteriiarrater
A, O. U, No. 519. Carpodacus mexicanus frontalis (Say).
Synonyms.—CarirornisA House Fince. CRiMsoN-FRONTED Finca. BuRIoN.
Description.— Adult male in highest spring plumage: Head and neck all around,
throat, and breast, broadly, and rump, rich red (carmine, light carmine, or nopal
ved), or, rarely, tinged with orange; upper back more or less tinged with the same
shade (hut red never so widely diffused above asinW. purpureus californicus) ; remaining
epourparts, wings, and tail brownish gray, or fuscous; margins of feathers vaguely
sgler: remaining underparts whitish, finely streaked with brownish gray (much more
streskedt than C. purpureus). Bill horn-color; feet and legs dark brown. Jn aniumn,
tise sade duller (grayer), more blended, and more widely diffused; the intensity of red,
eapes tilly, reduced on crown, where varied by darker centers to feathers (pure only
«% Heehead\: the wings with many edgings of pinkish, or brownish buffy, not present
eeese. £6 (his olumage the appearance of C. m. fronialis very closely approximates
eee a regs, the chief distinguishing mark being the presence of numerous
is weeaks on the posterior underparts, and their more buffy back-
i= spring: Above-dull grayish brown, streaked with darker;
sod finely streaked with grayish brown or dusky; wings and
peo wi distinguishing marks. Aduli female in fresh fall plumage:
ici eee thersied: wings with some marginings of lighter (bufiy gray);
The California Linnet
below, streaks broader and less distinct by reason of buffy edgings. Immature birds
resemble the female parent, but are more finely streaked with dusky below, and more
heavily margined by brownish buffy, especially on wing-coverts and tertials. Length
about 154.9 (6.10); wing 78 (3.07); tail 56 (2.20); bill 10.4 (.41); depth at base 9.6
(.38); tarsus 17.8 (.70). Females have slightly shorter wing.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; red and streaky plumage of male; all
streaky pattern of female. In spring, males are brighter red than males of C. p.
californicus; in autumn they are more thoroughly streaked below; red of back more
restricted (spring), or paler (autumn). Female not certainly distinguishable from
that of the Purple Finch in autumn, but upper plumage rather more blended and grayer,
less olivaceous.
Nesting.— Nest: Placed in almost any conceivable situation, but chiefly about
buildings or in crannies of cliffs, and in places offering more or less protection; as,
Monterey cypress trees, beds of “‘prickly pear’? (Opuntia) cactus, old birds’ nests,
and the like; a sturdy cup, constructed, often, with great taste from carefully selected
and uniform materials; as, string, straw, grasses, etc.; or else compacted of every
available sort of soft materials. Eggs: 4 or 5, rarely 6; thin-shelled, very pale bluish
green, or, rarely, white (quickly fading to white upon exposure), sharply and sparingly
spotted, chiefly about the larger end, with dark brown, blackish, or purplish black—
occasionally immaculate. Av. of 42 California-taken specimens in the M. C. O.
coll.: 18.5 x 13.7 (.73 x--54). Season: March to July; 2 or 3 broods.
Range of Carpodacus mexicanus.—Western United States from Oregon,
southern Idaho, and southern Wyoming, east upon the plains to Kansas, and south
throughout Lower California and to southern border of the tableland of Mexico.
Range of C. m. frontalis—As above, excepting the southern half of Lower Cali-
fornia and the southern portion of old Mexico.
Distribution in California.—Abundant resident throughout the State below
Transition; numbers reduced in northwestern humid portion, and confined on deserts
to vicinity of water, and somewhat dependent in great central valley upon vicinity of
“culture’’; breeds up to 6000 or 7000 feet, or exceptionally, to 8000 (Mammoth Camp,
Mono County); passes irregularly to higher altitudes in late summer. Found also
on all islands contiguous to California.
Remark.—An alleged form, clementis, originally described by Mearns (Auk,
xv., 1899, pp. 258-261), from San Clemente Island, is here relegated to synonymy.
I quite agree with Howell's conclusion (Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, pp. 73-75)
that we have ‘‘not a single constant character whereby clementis can be identified.”’
Authorities.—Audubon (Fringilla frontalis), Ornith. Biog., vol. v., 1839, pp. 230-
232; Gambel, Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol. i., 1847, pp. 53-54 (habits);
Keeler, Zoe, vol. i., 1890, pp. 172-176, pl. vi. (life history); Beal, Biol. Surv. Bull., no.
30, 1907, pp. 13-23, pl. ii. (food); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., vol. 7, 1911, pp.
179-195 (coloration); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, pp. 74-75 (status in
Fresno district); Shepardson, Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, pp. 100-101 (laying in nests of
other birds).
A KINDERGARTEN teacher of our acquaintance tells of a little
girl in her care who shows a precocious interest in birds. One day when
the teacher was exhibiting some skins of local birds, a linnet was held up
for identification. ‘‘Oh, I know what that is,’”’ cried the tot excitedly,
213
The California Linnet
“that’s the limit.’’ There are farm-
ers, at least, who will endorse this
sentiment, not to mention amateur
gardeners, park commissioners, and
various and sundry, charged or self-
charged with the maintenance of the
public weal. What tidy housewife,
contemplating the litter of spring-
time upon her porches, has not felt,
upon occasion, that the limits of hos-
pitality have been reached? Or what
suburban fruit-grower, faced with
half-eaten peaches or plums, but has
felt that the limits of patience have
been passed? And yet, I suppose,
there is not another bird in the West
which is responsible for so much
amiable discourse, so much friendly
camaraderie, so much homely good
cheer withal, as this ubiquitous “‘lin-
net.”’ The bird is part and parcel of
our California life, as much to be
taken for granted as sunshine and
dry weather. The linnet is the bread-
and-butter of the bird feast which
life daily spreads before us. We may
pass it over, for the nonce, in favor of
more notable dainties, but it is staple.
We will come back to it. For my
part, I confess without shame, that I
am fond of the linnets. They may
litter my porches and they may strip my vines if they like. I will take my
pay in music,—that incessant, uplifting chorus of commonplace joy. It
is reward enough to see the happy creatures breeding and brooding under
our very noses, and lavishing upon us that flattery of confidence which
they possess in common with our own children. They are not angels;
and sometimes we call them dirty little brats—the birds, I mean—but
the home that is not surrounded by an investing halo of linnets, I hold it
to be unblest.
The House Finch is without question the most abundant bird in
California. It probably outnumbers all other resident species three to
one, and in some localities ten to one. It does not to any large extent
Taken on Santa Cruz Island Photo by the Author
GOOD MORNING, SIR!
274
The California Linnet
invade the chaparral nor the deserts, per se, nor does it seek to possess the
mountains; and yet within its range it gives an impression of ubiquity
which is very nearly supported by the facts. The bird’s adaptability
is marvelous. It is practically without associational restraints, and
although its preference is for cultural surroundings, it makes its home in
the most secluded barrancas, or haunts alike the cliffs which front the
cattle range, and those which face the sea.
Of course, this associational adaptability presupposes, or depends
upon, accommodation in food habits. Feeding originally upon seeds and
the minor fruits, the bird’s tastes quickly parallelled those of mankind.
If it was barley that these gracious hombres, their hosts, planted, why then
the birds would eat barley,—barley by the handful, barley by the bushel,
barley by the acre, or so at least the jealous farmer claimed. Later it was
fruit. If we would persist in setting out such delectable dainties as plums,
and cherries, and apricots, and nectarines, why, of course, our little pen-
sioners, the aborigines, began to help themselves. Why not? And if the
damage is beginning to run up into big figures, millions, they say—again
a wee exaggerated, I fear—well, I’m afraid there is going to be trouble.
But let us think the problem all the way through.
Admitting that some of the witnesses are prejudiced, let us, never-
theless, hear what all of them have to say, and then let us weigh conclu-
sions. Comes the Bird-Lover, who says: ‘“‘The California Linnet is a
native species of unusual attractiveness. His sprightly, varied song is
pleasing to all ears, and even his minor notes, his chirpings and chipper-
ings, have a musical and not unpleasant quality. In disposition these
birds are singularly amiable. Never
quarrelsome and abusive, like the
English Sparrow, the Linnet gets
along well with its own kind and
with its immediate neighbors. More-
over, its manifest attachment to the
human race has endeared it to the
hearts of bird-lovers everywhere.
The bird is never impudent, or bla-
tant, or strident. It comes and goes
pleasantly, trustfully, modestly. Al-
though its association with man is
fairly close, it is not known to be a
filth accumulator, nor a disease car-
rier; and the presumptions are all in
Taken in Ventura County
Photo by Donald R. Dickey See favor of a helpful, happy association
: ”
THE GRAVITY OF YOUTH for mutual benefit.
215
The California Linnet
Comes now the Agriculturist
(call him farmer, fruit-grower, or
what not) and testifies: “I have
seen the birds in my barley fields.
They pick up grain in the barnyard,
and it stands to reason that they are
damaging the crops. . I’m trying to
raise a little fruit, an acre or so of
mixed varieties, but the linnets beat
me to it every year. They bite into
an apricot, and if they don’t eat the _
whole of it, the smaller birds or the
yellow-jackets finish the job. Not |
content with one or two peaches ata
time, they pick into a dozen, and
have the whole crop rotting before |
know it. The only way I can head them off is to spread mosquito netting
over the tree; and that’s a pretty hard, not to say expensive, piece of busi-
ness. I work hard enough for a living, as it is, and I’d like a little fruit
once in a while to help out.”’
Comes now the Economist, the Government Expert, and he says:
“What these gentlemen say, most of it, is true. The linnet does eat a
little grain, and it does do considerable damage to fruit, especially in
small, outlying orchards. It is practically impossible for a small grower
to raise fruit without the use of netting, unless the numbers of linnets are
either substantially reduced, or unless they are intimidated by some
special means. But the alleged destruction of grain has been greatly
exaggerated. The bird eats chiefly fallen grain, and this item does not
amount to above one-fourth of one per cent of the total diet for the year.
In the case of fruit, the damage is not much felt by the larger growers.
The birds do not flock extensively during the early fruiting season, and
their depredations are chiefly confined to the edges of the orchard. The
increase of fruit-growing does not appear to be a controlling factor in the
abundance of the birds; although it may prove necessary in some cases
to reduce their numbers and to keep them within bounds.
“On the other hand, House Finches are enormous consumers of weed
seed. In the autumn they make common cause with the goldfinches, and
together, in immense flocks, they purge the fields of many weeds which
otherwise would increase to plague the farmer. Nature’s balance depends
upon the maintenance of very considerable numbers of these birds. The
total or even approximate destruction of the species would probably work
an enormous hardship upon agriculture.”
Taken on Santa Cruz Island Photo by the Author
A NATIVE SON
276
The California Linnet
Needless to say, the author yields deference to the economist; but
before sentence is pronounced upon even a portion, say a half or two-
thirds of these birds (and then only under the strictest local necessity),
he would respectfully urge one very important consideration peculiar to
California. We are menaced by the invasion of the English Sparrow.
Having conquered the East, this blatant foreigner is not only pressing
upon our borders, but he is penetrating along every line of least resistance
into our most intimate midst. Resistance on our part is almost hopeless.
We may shoot and trap and poison till doomsday, but by such methods
we shall only partially abate the nuisance. But, fortunately for us, we
have a powerful ally in the defense. It is the California Linnet. He is
already on the ground, and he is thoroughly entrenched. The sparrow’s
place is preoccupied. It is only because the English Sparrow found an
economic gap, an un-
filled place in the scheme
of things, that he spread
through the East like an
investing army. That
gap does not exist here.
The question with us is,
shall we have Linnets or
English Sparrows? For
in proportion as we sac-
rifice our Linnets, we
shali encourage the Spar-
rows. Tomy mind there
can be only one answer
to this question. Savein
the matter of the injury
done to fruit, the Linnet,
compared point by point
with the English Spar-
row, is far and away the
more desirable citizen.
Tuneful, where the for-
eigner is strident; mild-
mannered and sociable,
where the interloper is
clannish and brutal;
happy and innocent,
Taken in Ventura County Photo by the Author Where the gamin is surly
“THE CHOLLA CACTUS IS AN ACCUSTOMED COUCH” and spiteful. One has
217
The California Linnet
only to review the quasi-personal qualities of these contrasted birds, to
make instant choice. If we must have satellites, by all means let us have
Native Sons. The Linnet is our best bulwark against the Menace.
Not the least interesting aspect
of bird study is what we might call
comparative genology. By this we
mean a study of the vital characters
which distinguish species, a study of
geno-dynamic values, as distinguish-
ed from studies of structural fea-
tures, habits, psychology, etc. A
geno-dynamic appraisal, to be of any
value, must involve a pretty thor-
ough knowledge of the present status
of a given species, its distribution, its
associations, its reactions with other
species, its adaptation to changing
environment. It presupposes a deep
knowledge of taxonomic relation-
ships and of phylogeny—in short, the
racial history of the bird. Its task,
as I conceive it, is to estimate the
relative value of a species, and to
express that value in terms of energy
and achievement, noting in each case
direction of development, rate of de-
velopmental progress, degree of suc-
cess or failure, mobility, adaptabil-
ity, and the like. Biter
0 THE GARDENER’S COTTAGE
Those whose interest has sur- NEST AND EGGS OF CALIFORNIA LINNET
vived the preceding paragraph will
be prepared for a geno-dynamic appraisal of the House Finch; but in
expressing it we will use common terms, instead of seeking to evolve or
further define a special vocabulary, such as every budding science requires.
The species Carpodacus mexicanus is of northern extraction, as
evinced by its similarity to certain Asiatic forms. It was the first of its
genus to flee southward before the advancing ice of the Glacial Epoch;
and upon the retreat of the ice, the species quickly accommodated itself
to the diverse and rapidly changing conditions of its new home, viz., the
highlands of western Mexico and the lower levels of the southwestern
states, instead of following the glacial retreat more closely, as did C. cas-
simi and C. purpureus. We may affirm that the species mexicanus accom-
2718
SY
Taken in Ventura County Photo by D. R. Dickey
The California Linnet
plished this adjustment by virtue of its inherent and special adaptability
(however derived). This phenomenal adaptability, or tolerance of change,
still remains the most prominent inheritance, or characteristic, of the
species, and has made it the dominant form of the region which it occupies.
This adaptability owns only one restriction, albeit an important one. The
House Finch is closely dependent upon water, and is rarely found breeding
at a distance above half a mile (‘‘a few hundred yards,’ Dr. A. K. Fisher
says!) from stream or spring. But again, adaptability, or ease of accom-
modation to environment, is not to be confused with plasticity, which is,
rather, susceptibility to change in environment, and which reflects itself
in the altered structure or appearance of the bird. Of this latter charac-
teristic the Song Sparrow, Melospiza melodia, with its twenty subspecies
in California alone, is a most conspicuous example. The House Finch, on
the other hand, overrides obstacles, and is able to absorb, as it were, the
shocks of change within its corporate, or specific, body, without evidence
of corresponding somatic change.
One of the results of this ability is a certain tendency to vary, which
exhibits itself in off-plumages and freaks, quite independently of associa-
tion or environment. Thus, it is well known that partial albinism is
common among House Finches. Among adult males, also, a more or less
complete substitution of yellow for red is sometimes encountered. Caged
birds are certain to lose their rosy tints, and to put on this mongrel yel-
low. That this tendency to dichromatic manifestation is more evident
in insular examples is probable; and it may be that insular conditions,
like confinement, for some reason fail to support the production of red
pigment. As a further example of freakishness, Swarth cites a case
where two young females, caught in the wild, showed distinct traces of red
in their plumage.
This trait in the House Finch, which we have rather carelessly called
the tendency to vary, may either be due to the species having reached the
saturation point of numbers, or the limit of vitality in development. Con-
ceivably these freakish manifestations may be evidences of phylogenetic
weakness, or approaching decay, rather than promises of new departures
in development. On the whole, I think the evidence of the eggs rather
supports the latter view. The type is weakening. Whereas the egg is
normally pale bluish green with blackish markings, sparingly applied,
white shells are not rare, and some sets are entirely devoid of markings.
Runts and other freak eggs are relatively numerous in this species, also.
But without pausing longer to establish the geno-dynamic status of
the species, we hasten to note that in its nesting habits the California
Linnet exhibits the utmost diversity of taste and the utmost degree of
1 Report Death Valley Expedition (1893), p. 80.
279
The California Linnet
accommodation to varied conditions. The bird does nest about houses
and outbuildings, multitudinously; but the very name House Finch is so
often challenged by experiences afield, that one is sooner inclined to call
it devil finch or spook finch. Does one penetrate the fastnesses of the
cattle country, where the Dalton gang and the James boys used to hold
forth, it is to study the mighty Eagle, or to trace the “bullet hawk”’
(Falco mexicanus) to its ledge. But lo, the ‘‘House’”’ Finch has set its
little tepee in a cranny beside the noble falcon; and while the falcon hurls
its thunders from the blue, this tedious chit simpers
and chirps as though its tiny affairs were nature’s
chief concern. Does one visit the cliffs at Pizmo to
get the salty sting of the gales, or ‘‘to hear old Triton
blow his wreathed horn,’’ lo! the House Finch has
come before. Here upon these storied cliffs, where
birds of high and rare degree, Peregrines, Surf-birds,
Royal Terns, pause, in passing, to
greet the shore, these irrever-
ent commoners gossip and
flutter, or gather straws.
Not even the occasional
presence of the White-
throated Swift, the speed
demon of the upper air,
daunts these hardy sans-
culottes. They, too, dis-
port themselves aloft, or
wing placidly across
some yawning chasm
which the sea has cleft,
heedless alike of the buffeting
wind and of the fretful sea-
mews. House Finch, indeed! Why,
there is no juniper tree where a
man may be alone with his Maker, but this bird hops in its branches and
twangs his little lute!
The House Finches nest almost anywhere. If you want a playmate
to engage in a state-wide game of hunt-the-thimble, confer with this bird
before issuing the challenge. Nests are caught in vines, or placed on tim-
bers, under cornices, in bird-boxes, mail-boxes, or in any cubbyhole which
an outbuilding offers. Mr. E. C. Mailliard: tells of a pair which built in a
garage, and which followed the fortunes of its nest while, for experiment’s
1 Condor, Sept., 1917, p. 166.
Taken in Ventura County
Photo by the Author
NOT VERY HUNGRY, I GUESS
220
ie —
The California Linnet
sake, this was shifted about from place to place, until it had occupied
“every available spot” in the building. Eggs were laid under these try-
ing circumstances and were hatched successfully, although the birds
deserted when the man stayed around too long. The exposed ends of
mission tiles are favorite places to fill with sticks. Bridges, windmills,
piers, warehouses—nothing which promises shelter is overlooked. Trees
of any sort and of any height are available,—cypresses, live oaks, syca-
mores, cottonwoods and willows, even the inhospitable eucalyptus. I
have found nests in the open sage a mile from timber. The cholla cactus
is an accustomed couch when not too far removed from water. On the
San Jacinto River we found nests settled against the stems of the great
blossom stalks of Yucca whipplet.
Choice of nesting materials is as catholic as that of nesting sites.
Again the catalog comprises anything soft and available: straw, grass,
weed-stems, flower-heads, string, wool, cotton, vegetable down, bark-
strips, moss, horsehair, and, rarely, feathers. There is, however, real
artistry among the House Finches, and often the builder makes choice of
a single material, so that there is a tasteful simplicity in the finished
product. A nest taken near Los Banos is composed almost exclusively
of the half-developed buttons of the sycamore tree, together, of course,
with their lengthened and very pliable stems. Another taken from a
neighboring tree was composed of willow twigs interspersed with the seed-
stalks of the shepherd’s purse (Capsella bursa pastoris). Another bristles
with the outstanding heads of a Briza. A specimen in the M. C. O. col-
lection is composed almost entirely of cords plucked from old fish nets.
Another taken from the porch of Mr. John Driver, in Montecito, is built
of our charming gray lichen—and so through an endless catalog.
Most interesting of all is the House Finch’s habit of appropriating old
birds’ nests. The primary thought is that of shelter; and those which
afford the deepest shelter are oftenest used. Thus, we find old nests of
the Bullock and Arizona Hooded Orioles great favorites. The mud
bracket of the Barn Swallow is often re-rented, and the abandoned tene-
ments of Cliff Swallows are occasionally invaded. In most cases the finch
provides a new lining, one better moulded to her own form than the old
structure. In the case of a pair using an old magpie’s nest, the only mark
of association evidenced by the nest proper was that its outer aspect upon
one side curved in conformity with the larger bowl of the pie. But again,
the finch’s contribution may be a mere apology; and there are signs of a
definite tendency toward parasitism, as betokened by this slovenly use of
other birds’ nests. Mr. D. I. Shepardson records! several instances where
eggs of the House Finch were found with eggs of other birds. In one case,
1 Condor, Vol. XVII., Sept.,; 1915, pp. 100-101.
AR
The California Linnet
that of a Cliff Swallow’s nest containing three eggs of the owner and two
of the House Finch, it is perhaps as fair to assume that the finch attempted
to occupy the swallow’s nest before the owner had begun laying, and was
driven out upon the Cliff Swallow’s assumption of duty. In another, that
of an Arizona Hooded Oriole, the observer supposed that the finches had
driven off the rightful owner and had established themselves. A third
instance, of a Black Phoebe’s nest containing five well incubated eggs of
the Phoebe and one partially incubated egg of the House Finch, we may
suppose either an unsuccessful attempt on the part of the House Finch
to take unlawful possession, or else a more fortuity, a “‘dropped”’ egg,
such as homeless females are occasionally guilty of. It is easy to see,
however, that temptation lurks along this path. The habits of this very
domestic bird will bear watching.
Usually the nesting of the House Finch is a matter of unceasing
industry, two or three broods being raised each year. Tyler, however,
found a company of birds haunting a raisin warehouse in Fresno County,
which he was convinced did not breed at all during an entire season.
The young birds are little tyrants, yet as “‘cunning’”’ as they are
insatiable. They follow their parents about with importunate cries when
we would judge them fully able to care for themselves. But mother
doubtless knows best, and it certainly is a pretty sight to see a busy
mother stuffing food down the throat of a tremulous hobbledehoy who
looks at least half a size larger. And the youngster doesn’t forget his
manners, either. If he does say ‘‘Please’’ pretty often and pretty em-
phatic, he also says ‘“‘Thank you” all over, with quivering wings, which
to my notion are most expressive and grateful.
And when the family life of the House Finch is merged in the greater
life of the flock, this charm of manner is not all forgotten. Though the
songs of springtime are hushed, the keep-in-touch notes are still cheerful
and friendly. And when a cloud rises, two or three thousand strong,
from a wayside weed-patch to settle on the telephone wires, the heart
of the passerby insensibly warms as he hears pleasant greetings and a
babel of polite discussion. Surely, these are amiable bird-folk, and we
may thank our lucky stars that California has bred gentlemen-commoners
instead of gibbering assassins.
bo
to
to
The English Sparrow
No. 35
English Sparrow
Introduced. Passer domesticus (Linneus).
Synonyms.—THE Sparrow. House SPARROW. DOMESTIC SPARROW. STREET
Sparrow. Gamin. Hooptum. MosBinGc SPARROW.
Description.—Adult male: Pileum and occiput deep mouse-gray; rump and
upper tail-coverts mouse-gray, tinged with olivaceous; back, wings, sides of neck,
and supra-auricular region chestnut, varied on back and wings by black centers of
feathers; tips of median coverts white, forming a conspicuous transverse bar; lores,
region below eyes, chin, throat, and breast, broadly, black; cheeks and sides of throat
dingy white; the remaining underparts smoky gray. Bill black; feet brownish. Jm-
mature male: Like adult, but chestnut area on sides of head and neck veiled and tipped
with buffy; the black of throat and breast reduced in area and more or less veiled with
white tips. Adult female: Somewhat similar to adult male, but without chestnut
of upperparts and sides, and without black below; upperparts brown (between Sac-
cardo’s umber and sepia) on pileum and rump, this color shading on sides and breast
into the lighter tone of remaining underparts; back, tail, and wings extensively black,
edged by pale cinnamon; a dull buffy supra-auricular stripe, bordered by dusky,
takes the place of the chestnut stripe of the male. Length 139.7-158.8 (5.50-6.25);
wing 76.2 (3.00); tail 55.9 (2.20); bill 12.7 (.50). Sexes of about equal size.
Nesting.— Nest: If in a tree or other situation requiring structural consist-
ency, a bulky sphere of grass and trash, with entrance hole on side, and heavily lined
with feathers; otherwise a varied filling of hole, niche, or cranny, whether in trees or
cliffs or about buildings, but always copiously lined with feathers. Eggs: 4 to 6;
white; heavily sprinkled and spotted with gravish brown (hair-brown to bone-brown
with drab shadings), pigment usually uniformly distributed and sometimes obliter-
ating background; otherwise (often one egg in each clutch) more sharply defined and
showing tendency to confluence in coronal wreath. Av. size 21.8 x 15.8 (.86 x .62).
Season: March to September; several broods.
General Range.—Nearly the whole of Europe (except Italy) and Siberia to
Irkutsk and Dauria, south through Asia Minor, Persia, India, and Ceylon to Cochin
China. Introduced into North America, New Zealand, Australia, etc.
Distribution in California.—Introduced to San Francisco about 1871 or 1872;
now increasing at lower and middle levels throughout the State, but still radiating
from ‘‘cultural,’’ especially railroad, centers. Introduction into southern localities
much retarded by presence of California Linnet (Carpodacus mexicanus frontalis),
and still more or less under control. Passer domesticus knows no barriers of tempera-
ture or humidity, and thrives alike in Del Norte County or in the Colorado desert
(Mecca, Jan. 30, 1913). It is crossing to the islands (Farallons, May 29, 1911; Santa
Cruz, April 12, 1915), but is not likely to invade the upper slopes of the Sierras.
Authorities.—Barrows, U. S. Dept. Agric. Div. Orn. & Mamm., Bull. no. 1,
1889, pp. 19, 201, 262 (history of arrival and spread in Calif.); Belding, Occ. Papers,
Calif. Acad. Sci., 2, 1890, pp. 168-169; Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p.
22
The English Sparrow
76 (history in s. Calif.); Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 11, 1915, pp. III-112
(history of spread throughout Calif.); Phillips, J. C., Auk, vol. xxxii., 1915, pp. 51-59
(crit. compar. of Old World and Amer. spec.); Grinnell, Amer. Nat., vol. liii., 1919,
pp. 468-473 (comment on occurrence in Death Valley).
WHAT a piece of mischief is the Sparrow! how depraved in instinct!
in presence how unwelcome! in habit how unclean! in voice how repulsive!
in combat how moblike and despicable! in courtship how wanton and con-
temptible! in increase how limitless and menacing! the pest of the farmer!
the plague of the city! the bane of the bird-world! the despair of the
philanthropist! the thrifty and insolent beneficiary of misguided senti-
ment! the lawless and defiant object of impotent hostility too late aroused!
Out upon thee, thou shapeless, senseless, heartless, misbegotten tyrant!
thou tedious and infinite alien! thou myriad cuckoo, who dost by thy con-
suming presence bereave us daily of a million dearer children! Out upon
thee, and woe the day!
Without question the most deplorable event in the history of Ameri-
can ornithology was the introduction of the English Sparrow. The
extinction of the Greak Auk, the passing of the Wild Pigeon and the
Turkey,—sad as these are, they are trifles compared to the wholesale
reduction of our smaller birds, which is due to the invasion of this wretched
foreigner. To be sure he was invited to come, but the offense is all the
more rank because it was partly human. His introduction was effected
in part by people who ought to have known better, and would, doubtless,
if the science of ornithology had reached its present status as long ago as
the early Fifties. The maintenance and prodigious increase of the pest is
still due in a measure to the imbecile sentimentality of people who build
bird-houses and throw out crumbs for ‘‘the dear little birdies,’ and then
care nothing whether honest birds or scalawags get them. Such people
belong to the same class as those who drop kittens on their neighbors’
door-steps, because they wouldn’t have the heart to kill them themselves,
you know.
The increase of this bird in the United States is, to a lover of birds,
simply frightful. Their fecundity is amazing and their adaptability
apparently limitless. Mr. Barrows, in a special report prepared under the
direction of the Government, estimates that the increase of a single pair,
if unhindered, would amount in ten years to 275,716,983,698 birds. The
number actually alive in America today must run well into the billions.
As to its range, we note that its subjugation of the East has long
been accomplished, and that the occupation of the West now involves
every considerable town and village. According to Professor Grinnell, to
whose careful review! I am largely indebted, the English Sparrow, having
1 Pacific Coast Avifauna, no. 11, Oct., 1915, p. 111.
224
The English Sparrow
first been purposely introduced at San Francisco in 1871 or 1872, made its
way by means of the transcontinental railways, and by 1886 had become
thoroughly established in the San Francisco Bay region,—as also at
Eureka, Stockton and Hollister. “‘Within a few years practically all suit-
able parts of California north of the 35th parallel and west of the High
Sierras had been invaded.’ Southern California, both by reason of the
insulation provided by the eastern deserts, and the previous occupation
by the House Finch, was long immune. But in 1901 Howard noted the
birds at Bakersfield, and in 1903 at Tehachapi, although they were not to
be found that season at Mohave. Newhall, 1906 (reported by Law),
appears to be the earliest date for Los Angeles County, although the birds
made their appearance in Los Angeles the following year. Bradford
Torrey saw them at Santa Barbara in 1909. By 1912 Pasadena and
Riverside were employing a professional Sparrow-killer to keep the pest
down; but San Diego was immune till November, 1913. Howell and
Huey saw the pioneers, or spies, on San Clemente on March 30th, 1915,
and shot hopefully; while I was less successful, in that I had no gun to
rebuke the first pilgrim on Santa Cruz Island, April 18, 1915.
At the present writing, the occupation of all cities and towns is prac-
tically complete, and the birds swarm through the Imperial Valley and
the infra-sea-level stations of the Colorado Desert, no less than along the
upper reaches of the Sacramento and in the Surprise Valley.
The favorite means of dissemination has always been the box car, and
especially the grain car. The Sparrows, being essentially grain and seed
eaters, frequent the grain cars as they stand in the railroad yards, and are
occasionally imprisoned in them, hopeful stowaways and “‘gentlemen of
fortune.’ In this manner, also, the larger cities and railroad towns were
first colonized. The sparrow follows the flag of commerce, and if he were
prescient he would probably dread as much as we do the day when increas-
ing pressure of numbers will drive him into the chaparral.
Difficult as it may seem, it is true that the English Sparrow adopts the
policy of Uriah Heep upon first entering a town. With all the unctuous
humility of a band of Mormon apostles, the newcomers talk softly, walk
circumspectly, and either seek to escape notice altogether, or else assid-
uously cultivate the good opinion of their destined dupes. Thus, I
resided in the town of Blaine, on the northern border of the United States,
for two months (in 1904) before running across a single member of the
pioneer band of nine English Sparrows, although I was assured on good
authority that the birds had been there for at least two years. A very
similar experience attended early inquiries in Santa Barbara, and it was
not till 1913 that I learned precisely which palm trees in town were most
likely to harbor the Englishers.
The English Sparrow
The Sparrow, by the way, although his entrance into southern Cali-
fornia was so belated, has found an impregnable fortress in the Washing-
ton Palm, Neowashingtonia filifera (Wendt) Sudworth. Wherever this
stately savage displays
his luxuriant mane, there
the English Sparrow
foregathers with his
mates ad infinitum et ad
nauseam. So far as
southern California is
concerned, the ‘‘prob-
lem of the English Spar-
row’ will be the problem
of persuading the proud
owners of Washington
Palms to subject their
favorites to tonsorial
care.
If there are those
who still require evi- a ;
dence that the English ; Se
Sparrow is an undesir-
able alien, I beg to sub-
mit for their considera-
tion the following speci- Taken in San Francisco Photo by the Author
fic charges, each con- THE TEDIOUS ALIEN
firmed by experience no less than by authority.
1. The English Sparrow destroys fruits, berries, grains, buds, gar-
den-seeds, and tender shoots. To take up a single item: The total
economic loss to the nation through the consumption of grain in the shock
is enormous. A hundred million bushels would probably be a low esti-
mate.
2. The bird destroys as many beneficial insects as it does injurious,
so it can claim no exemption because of its occasional and unquestioned
services as an insect destroyer.
3. It is a frequent and almost inevitable disseminator of disease,
through its use of poultry litter and other trash in nest-building.
4. It harbors and disseminates chicken-lice (Dermanyssus galline
Redi), as well as bird-lice (D. avium De Geer). An able investigator,
Ewing,! found 18,000 of these poultry mites in a single nest of this Spar-
row. ‘This isa fatal offense in the eyes of poultry raisers.
1 Auk, Vol. XXVIII., July, 1911, p. 338
226
The English Sparrow
5. The English Sparrow reduces the number of desirable native
birds through destruction of their eggs and young, and through usurpa-
tion of their nesting sites.
6. It discourages and drives out desirable native species by con-
tinual annoyance and by the employment of mob tactics.
7. It defiles shrubbery, ornamental vines and trees, houses and
public buildings, by its excrement; and it builds bulky, disfiguring nests
out of unsightly trash.
8. The Sparrow’s voice is always harsh and discordant, and its
incessant racket imposes a severe tax upon the nervous energy of the
nation.
g. Its unwelcome presence defiles the more remote woodland sanc-
tuaries and mars the serenity of the everlasting hills, no less surely than
it does that of the cities and the rural centers.
It requires no further testimony to show that the presence of this bird
is absolutely undesirable. It is a scourge to the agriculturist, a plague to
the architect, and the avowed and determined enemy of all other birds. Its
nests are not only unsightly but unsanitary, and the maudlin racket of
their owners unendurable. The bird is, in short, in the words of the late
Dr. Coues, “‘a nuisance without a redeeming quality.”” Although we
assent to this most heartily, we are obliged to confess on the part of our
race to a certain amount of sneaking admiration for the Sparrow. And
why, forsooth? Because he fights! We are forced to admire, at times, his
bull-dog courage and tenacity of purpose, as we do the cunning of the
Taken in San Francisco Photo by the Author
STREET GAMINS
227
The Alaska Longspur
weasel and the nimbleness of the flea. He zs vermin and must be treated
as such; but, give the Devil his due, of course. What are we going to do
about it? Wage unceasing warfare, as we do against rats. There will pos-
sibly be rats as long as there are men, but a bubonic plague scare operates
very effectually to reduce their numbers. No doubt there will be English
Sparrows in cities as long as there are brickbats, but a clear recognition of
their detestable qualities should lead every sensible person to deny them
victuals and shelter. Every well-ordered community should have a
salaried official whose sole business it is to trap, shoot, burn, poison, and
otherwise discourage this most reprehensible alien. The House Sparrow is
no longer exterminable, but he may be, must be kept within bounds.
No. 36
Alaska Longspur
A. O. U. No. 536a. Calcarius lapponicus alascensis Ridgway.
Description.—Adult male in summer: Head, throat, and fore-breast black;
a buffy line behind eye and sometimes over eye; a broad nuchal patch, or collar, of
reddish brown (hazel); remaining upperparts light grayish brown, streaked with black
and with some whitish edging; below white, heavily streaked with black on sides and
flanks; tail fuscous with oblique white patches on the two outer pairs of rectrices.
Bill yellow with black tip; feet and legs black. Adult male in winter: Lighter above;
the black of head and chestnut of cervical collar partially overlaid with buffy or whitish
edging; the black of throat and breast more or less obscured by white edging. Adult
female in summer: Similar to male in summer, but no continuous black or chestnut
anywhere; the black of head mostly confined to centers of feathers,—these edged with
buffy; the chestnut of cervical collar only faintly indicated as edging of feathers with
sharply outlined dusky centers; black of throat and chest pretty thoroughly obscured
by grayish edging, but the general pattern retained; sides and flanks with a few sharp
dusky streaks. Adult female in winter: Above buffy grayish brown, streaked (cen-
trally upon feathers) with black; wing-coverts and tertials with rusty areas between
the black and the buffy, and tipped with white; underparts warm buffy brownish,
lightening on lower breast, abdomen and under tail-coverts; lightly streaked with black
on throat, chest, and sides, sharply on sides and flanks. Jmmature birds resemble
adult female in winter, but are more extensively brownish buffy above, the male
showing also early indications of jugular black. Length of adult males about 165
(6.50); wing 95.8 (3.77); tail 63.3 (2.50); bill 11.7 (.46); tarsus 21.8 (.86).. Female
smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; terrestrial habits; black head and breast
of male. The bird may be distinguished from the Horned Lark, with which it some-
times associates, by the greater extent of its black areas, and by the chirruping or
rattling cry which it makes when rising from the ground.
228
The Alaska Longspur
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: In grass tussock on ground,
flimsy or bulky, of grasses and moss, frequently water-soaked, and lined carefully
with fine coiled grass, and occasionally feathers. Eggs: 4 to 6; light clay-color with
a pale greenish tinge, variously marked,—speckled, spotted, scrawled, blotched, or
entirely overlaid with light brown or chocolate brown. Av. size 20.3 x 15.7 (.80 x .62).
Season: First week in June; one brood.
General Range of Calcarius lapponicus——Northern portion of Northern Hemi-
sphere, breeding in Arctic region.
Range of C. /. alascensis—‘‘The whole of Alaska, including (and breeding
on) the Pribilof and Aleutian Islands, Unalaska, and the Shumagins; east to Fort
Simpson, south in winter through more western parts of North America to Nevada
(Carson City), eastern Oregon, Colorado, western Kansas, etc.’’ (Ridgway).
Occurrence in California.—Two records, one by Frank Stephens, False Bay,
San Diego County, Oct. 2, 1909 (Condor, XII., 1910, p. 44), and one by Henry W.
Marsden, Gunthers Island, Eureka, Oct. 2, 1909 (Condor, XII., 1910, p. 110).
Authorities.—As above.
IT IS a curious coincidence that the only two records of the occur-
rence of the Lapland Longspur in California were made on the same day,
October 2, 1909, and from localities so widely separated as Eureka and
San Diego. In both instances, also, the birds were found near the ocean.
In this respect they preserved the tradition of springtime, for in their
Alaskan home the Longspurs breed down to tidewater; but their winter
home is, preferably, the dry prairies of the interior. It would not be sur-
prising, therefore, if the birds were to be found in Modoc and Lassen
counties in winter; but their occurrence on the coast was purely fortuitous.
Those who have seen the prairies of Iowa or Kansas give up these
birds by scores and hundreds every few rods, have been able to form some
conception of their vast numbers; but it remained for the storm of March
13-14, 1904, to reveal the real order of magnitude of their abundance. An
observer detailed by the Minnesota State Natural History Survey esti-
mates that a million and a half of these ‘“‘Lapland”’ Longspurs perished in
and about the village of Worthington alone; and he found that this de-
struction, though not elsewhere so intense, extended over an area of
fifteen hundred square miles.
In spite of these occasional buffetings of fortune, such birds as do
reach Alaska bring a mighty cheer with them to the solitudes. _ As Nelson
says:! ‘When they arrive, early in May, the ground is still largely covered
with snow, with the exception of grassy spots along southern exposures
and the more favorably situated portions of the tundra, and here may be
found these birds in all the beauty of their elegant summer dress. The
males, as if conscious of their handsome plumage, choose the tops of the
only breaks in the monotonous level, which are small rounded knolls and
1 Rep. Nat. Hist. Colls. in Alaska, 1887, p. 183.
229
The Chestnut-collared Longspur
tussocks. The male utters its song as it flies upward from one of these
knolls and when it reaches the height of ten or fifteen yards, it extends the
points of its wings upwards, forming a large V-shaped figure, and floats
gently to the ground, uttering, as it slowly sinks, its liquid tones, which fall
in tinkling succession upon the ear, and are perhaps the sweetest notes that
one hears during the entire spring-time in these regions. It is an exquisite
jingling melody, having much less power than that of the Bobolink, but
with the same general character, and, though shorter, it has even more
melody than the song of that well-known bird.”
No. 37
Chestnut-collared Longspur
A. O. U. No. 538. Calcarius ornatus (J. kK. Townsend).
Description.—Adult male in spring: Head black and white and buff; crown
and sides of cervix, a post-ocular streak, and a patch on side of neck, black; throat
and cheeks warm buff; enclosed areas white; breast extensively black (occasionally
with dabs of chestnut, and, in early spring, more or less veiled with buffy); everywhere,
including lower throat, outlined against white of remaining underparts; a sharply
outlined nuchal patch, or half-collar, of chestnut; remaining upperparts blackish,
edged with flaxen (light buffy brown); wings chiefly dusky with buffy brown edgings;
the lesser and middle coverts black; the inner feathers of lesser coverts broadly tipped
with white, the middle and greater coverts tipped with flaxen or whitish; tail extensively
white, the feathers blackish-tipped, decreasingly from central pair. Bill light brown;
feet and legs darker. Adult male in autumn and winter: As in spring, but lighter by
reason of more extended flaxen edging; blacks almost entirely veiled by buffy tips; the
nuchal chestnut reduced and veiled. Adult female: Similar to male in winter, but
still lighter and duller; the black of breast almost entirely obscured by buffy tips, and
chestnut collar wanting; in general, a flaxen bird, streaked with dusky above, and with
some outcropping of black on breast centrally (in highest plumage the characteristic
pattern of lesser wing-coverts most nearly retained). Immature birds resemble adult
female, but lack wing pattern and are obscurely streaked on sides of head and throat
and on chest (tail pattern of white distinctive). Length of adult male 146-157 (5.75-
6.20); wing 85 (3.35); tail 56 (2.20); bill ro.5 (.41); tarsus 20 (.78). Females average
smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler to sparrow size; black breast with chestnut
collar of male distinctive; but female very obscurely colored,—a dull cinnamon-buffy
bird, streaked with dusky above; terrestrial and more or less gregarious habits.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: Of grass and weed-stems,
lined with fine grasses, moss and horsehair; sunk flush with surface of ground, under
protection of weeds or grass-tuft. Eggs: 4 or 5; ovate, dull whitish as to ground,
heavily but obscurely freckled, spotted, or clouded, with drab or purplish drab, and
sharply but sparingly marked with brownish black. Av. size 19 x 14 (.75 x .55) (Reed).
Season: June, July; two broods.
230
The Chestnut-collared Longspur
General Range.—The central plains region. Breeds from southern Sas-
katchewan, south to central Kansas, and from the prairie portion of Montana east
to western Minnesota; winters from Nebraska and Iowa to Sonora and southern
portion of Mexican tableland; accidental in New England, Maryland, and California.
Range in California.—Of accidental occurrence in Inyo County (Cow Camp,
15 miles north of Darwin, Sept. 28, 1917—-an immature female taken by Joseph Grin-
nell).
Authority.—Grinnell, Condor, vol. xx., 1918, p. 87.
THE OCCURRENCE of a single straggler taken by Grinnell in
eastern Inyo County extends by a considerable distance the potential
range of Calcarius ornatus. The bird is rated by Swarth! an abundant
migrant, and less commonly a winter resident in extreme eastern Arizona,
“occasionally straggling further westward.’ The normal range of the
species is the Great Plains region; and it would appear that the south-
ward-moving hordes sweep around the southern end of the Rockies in
New Mexico, and so into Arizona and Sonora, rather than risk crossing
the Rocky Mountains at a point further north. This California wan-
derer, on the other hand, probably became involved with birds of some
other species crossing the Rockies in Wyoming or northern Colorado.
Of the birds’ appearance near Fort Hays, Kansas, Dr. Allen writes:?
“They live in summer in large scattered colonies, generally many pairs
being found at the same locality, while they may not be again met with
in a whole day’s travel. We found them very shy for so small birds, and
were obliged to obtain all our specimens by shooting them on the wing at
long range. They breed, of course, on the ground, constructing a rather
slight but neat nest of dry grass and the stems of small plants. The eggs
appear to be commonly five in number, blotched and streaked with rusty
on a white ground, full sets of which were obtained the first week in June.
This species has the curious habit of circling round the observer, with a
buoyant, undulatory flight, generally high in the air, and usually keeping
all the while well out of range, uttering, meanwhile, its rather sharp but
musical call notes.”
1 Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 10, 1914, p. 51.
2 In Coues’ “Birds of the Northwest,’’ 1874, pp. 122-123.
The Lark Bunting
No. 38
Lark Bunting
A. O. U. No. 605. Calamospiza melanocorys Stejneger.
Description.—Adult male in breeding plumage: Nearly uniform black, duller
(browner or grayer) on back; a patch of brownish gray on flanks, occasionally crossing
rump; a large white blotch on wing formed by middle and greater coverts; tertials
edged with white, and tail-feathers white-blotched on tips. Bill dark horn blue
above, paler below; feet brown. Adult female: Quite different; above grayish brown,
finely and heavily streaked with dusky; below white, sharply streaked, especially
on sides of throat, on breast and sides, with dusky; white blotch on wing much reduced
and tinged more or less with buffy. Adult male in autumn: Much like adult female,
but wing markings more pronounced; chin black; and feathers of underparts extensively
black basally (with irruptive appearance when disturbed). Length of adult male
about 165 (6.50); wing 88 (3.46); tail 68 (2.67); bill 14 (.55); depth at base 11.4 (.49);
tarsus 24.4 (.96). Females average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; all black of male in high plumage, with
white wing blotches, distinctive. In case of females and autumnal males, the robust
beak, taken in connection with white blotches on wing and tips of tail-feathers, prevents
confusion in an otherwise ‘‘merely streaked”’ bird.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: Of grasses, sunk flush with
surface of ground. Eggs: 4 or 5; pale bluish green, immaculate, or, rarely, speckled,
or marked with reddish brown. Av. size 22 x 16 (.88 x .65). Season: June; one brood.
General Range.—Plains of central North America, breeding from southern
Alberta, Saskatchewan, and southwestern Manitoba, south to northeastern New
Mexico and northwestern Texas, east to Nebraska and western Minnesota; in winter
from southern Arizona, New Mexico, and southern Texas south over the tableland
of Mexico and in southern Lower California. Occurs sporadically during migrations
west to California, east to Iowa; accidental in Atlantic seaboard states.
Occurrence in California.—Irregular visitor, chiefly in late winter or spring,
in southern portion of State; occasionally occurs in some numbers. There are about
thirteen published records of occurrence, all lying within the area defined by Santa
Barbara (Mailliard), Tulare Lake (J. S. Cooper), San Diego (Holterhoff), and the
Colorado River (J. Grinnell).
Authorities.—Cooper, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, vol. ii., 1877, p. 92 (Tulare Lake) ;
Coues, Birds of the Northwest, 1874, p. 163 (peculiarities of structure; habits; nests
and eggs, etc.); Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 11, 1915, p. 137 (Calif. records);
Wyman, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 203 (Los Angeles); Herron, Condor, vol. xviii.,
1916, p. 205 (Cabezon); Whittle, Condor, vol. xxiv., 1922, p. 74 (flight song).
DID YOU EVER hear of a bird wearing a dress suit under an ulster?
Well, that is precisely what the Lark Bunting does; that is, the male Lark
Bunting, during nine months of the year. The female, poor drudge, is
not allowed any such finery, even for her honeymoon. She makes shift
the year around with a dull habit of brownish gray, streaked with dusky
232
The Lark Bunting
or relieved with whitish below. The only ornament she is allowed to
wear is a creamy shoulder patch, and this must be reefed to the smallest
possible dimensions, save in flight. But the male, bless you, has solved
the problem of splendor—splendor plus economy. When family cares are
over for the season, and it is time to think of getting ready for the annual
southern trip, this crafty Beau Brummel orders a brand new black suit
with white trimmings, say, epaulettes and braid. But when, after the
last try-on, he comes out of the tailor shop (that is, the post-nuptial molt)
late in August, he is nearly enveloped from head to foot in a flaxen ‘‘duster,”’
suitable for travelling. The new black suit is there, you know, but since
the bird can carry no bags, the tailor-made does duty for underclothes.
Only with advancing springtime do the ends of the feathers wear away
(aptosochromatism the ornithologists call it), and disclose to view the
resplendent black of the wooer and gallant, the troubadour poet of the
prairies.
The Lark Bunting, though a very self-sufficient and straight-forward
mortal, is, nevertheless, a bit of a puzzle to the science. Lark he is not,
for his claws are not lengthened like those of the Alaudide, nor even like
those of certain other terrestrial finches. ~The name comes only from his
habit of singing a-wing. Viewed structurally, he is, no doubt, a sparrow.
The turgid beak suggests Emberiza of the Old World, so that the name
“Bunting,” otherwise little used in America, may be allowed to pass.
The eggs which, in this species, are spotless green (niagara green), or, very
rarely, maculated, link the bird to Spzza, and possibly to the lesser gros-
beaks. But this black grosbeak of the prairies looks and acts more like
a Bobolink. He is much the shape and size of a Bobolink; the contrast
between nuptial and eclipse plumage is the same; and the flocking of
winter is not altogether different.
The normal winter range of Calamospiza is Texas, Arizona, Lower
California, and the Mexican table-land. Occasionally the autumnal
migrants overshoot the mark and land in southern California; but oftener,
apparently, the records are made in the spring by migrants which, return-
ing from Lower California, pursue a course a little too far northward
before swinging to the east. Winter flocks may be composed of both
sexes in equal or very unequal proportions. They feed quietly upon the
ground in the open, whether along a river bottom or over the baldest
desert. The Lark Buntings are not averse to civilization, and they some-
times frequent Mexican dooryards or barnyards with much the freedom
and something of the manner of blackbirds. And because they are seen
lingering on into May is no sign that they are going to breed with us; for
the spring winds of Manitoba blow chill and there is no hurry.
Encountered upon his native prairie, Calamospiza gives one a vivid
Blo)>)
JID
The Western Lark Sparrow
assurance of his fitness. There are only two ‘“‘elements”’ to consider, the
ground and the air, and the Lark Bunting is equally at home with either.
Be the wind never so fresh, the happy-hearted bird, all lark now, launches
vigorously and flutters up to a height of ten or twenty feet, singing the
while. Then he makes a parachute of his wings, bat-fashion, or like a
concave Y, and, struggling with the wind, or bent on ostentatious gal-
lantry, settles to the ground still singing. The song, which is not loud,
consists of a pleasing repetition of several very different phrases. By
phrases, in this instance, is meant a short succession of notes of one qual-
ity. Thus, one phrase will consist of four double notes given in the same
key, wéo wéo wéo wéo. Another, perhaps immediately succeeding, will be
an insect trill, like that of the Grasshopper Sparrow. The effect produced
by an endless succession of these rocketing birds is very impressive; and
the Lark Bunting comes in time to symbolize all that is distinctive in the
life of the Great Plains.
No. 39
Western Lark Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 552a. Chondestes grammacus strigatus (Swainson).
Synonyms.—QualIL-HEAD. WESTERN LARK FINCH.
Description.—Adult: Head variegated, black, white, and chestnut; lateral
head-stripes black in front, chestnut behind; auriculars chestnut, bounded by rictal
and post-orbital black stripes; narrow loral, and broader submalar black stripes;
malar, superciliary, and median stripes white, the two latter becoming buffy behind;
upperparts buffish gray-brown, clearest on sides of neck, streaked by blackish brown
centers of feathers on middle back and scapulars, persisting as edging on the fuscous
wings and tail; tail-feathers, except middle pair, broadly (decreasingly from outermost)
tipped with white; below white, purest on throat and belly, washed with grayish buff
on sides and crissum, also obscurely across fore-breast, in which is situated a central
black spot. Bill dark brown above, darkening toward tip, paler below; feet and legs
pale brownish. Young birds lack the black and chestnut of head, and are more or less
streaked below, at least across breast. Length 158.8 (6.25); wing 87 (3.42); tail 70
(2.75); bill 12 (.47); tarsus 20.3 (.80).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; head variegated black, white, and chest-
nut; fan-shaped tail broadly tipped with white and conspicuous in flight.
Nesting.— Nest: Either on the ground, more or less concealed by protecting
grass-clump or bush, or else in bush or tree at moderate heights; in the former instance
a more or less careless but thick-walled saucer of dried grasses, lined with horsehair;
in the latter, a sturdy deep cup built externally of twigs, weed-stems and grasses, or
string and trash, and heavily lined, as before, with horsehair, or, more rarely, rootlets.
Eggs: 4 or 5; ovate, or short ovate, often notably rounded; white, pinkish or bluish
white, spotted or scrawled in zigzags, or else finely scrolled about the larger end with
dark browns and purplish. Some examples are as finely scrolled as eggs of the Icterine
234
assurance of bis fitness, There are only twa “elements” to consti the
ground and the air, and the Lark Bunting is equally at home with either.
Be the wind never so fresh, the happy-hearted bird. all Jark now, launches
vigorously and flutters up to a height of ten or twenty feet, singing the -
while. Then he makes a parachute of his wings, bat-fashion, or like a
concave Y, and, struggling with the wind, or bent on ostentatious gal-
lantry, settles to the ground si?! singing. The song, which is not loud
consists of a pleasing repetition of several very different phrases. B
phrases, in this instance, is meant a short succession of notes of one qual-
itv. Thos, one phrase will consist of four double notes given in the same
key, wio wee wéo wee. Another, perhaps immediately succeeding, will be -
an msect tril}. like that of the Grasshopper Sparrow. The effect produced —
by an endless succession of these rocketing birds is very impressive; and
the Lark Ponting comes in time to symbolize all that is distinctive in the
hte wi the Great Plains.
No. 39
Western Lark Sparrow
A, 0, UL Ne some Ohenadestes Grammacus strigatus (Swainson).
Synonyms. s4a-wean. WESTERN LARK Finca.
Desorintien.-ddrii; ead variegated, black, white, and chestnut: lateral
head-strines tdack in ~~ Western Lark Sparrow) ou, bounded by rictal
ana post-arbitai black arroy loral. Pan ceugader submalar black stripes;
i Male and fema Re ithe Two Tatter becoming buffy behind:
upperparts buthsh gray-brown, clearest on sides of neck, streaked by blackish brown
centers of feathers gn middie back and se capular $, persisting as edging on the fuscous
wings and yall: tan-feathers, except middle pair, broadly (decreasingly from outermost)
tipped with white; below white, purest on throat and belly, washed with grayish buff
on sides and ¢rissum, also obscure! iy across fore-breast, in which is situated a central
black spot. [ail dark brawn above, darkeniag toward tip, paler below;teet and legs
pale brownish Yeung birds lack the black and chestnut of head, and are more or less
streaked helow, at last across breast. Leneth. 158.8) (6.25); wing 87 (3. 42); Fail 70
(2.95); bil 23°54.47)) tarsus 20.3 (80). =
Recognition Marks.—-Spartow spe: head variegated black, white, and chest-
gat; fan-shaned tail broadly tipped ath wie aad tonapicuous in Aight: r
Nevtisg.—- Nes: Either on me yuck, Me fess concealed by protecting
Sriass-vivmp or tush) or else in bush « oat moderate heights; in the former instance
a oere or tess dareless hut (hick-wallce? savcer of én fed grasses, lined with horsehair;
in the latter, a sturdy deep cup built externally of avigs, weed-stemis and grasses, or.
fr, Supercar’, and niet
scring end. trash, and heavily Hucd, as before, with horsehair, or, more rarely, rootlets) 7
x . xs
Hg0S: OE &; ovate, ar skort ovate, offen notably rounded; white, pinkish or bluish
white. spotted or scrawled ta vigzags, ar cise finely.scraiied about the larger end with
éark browns amd purplish. Some avamjles are as Gnely seroiled as eggs of the Icterine ;
224
The Western Lark Sparrow
orioles, and rare examples are handsomely mottled, or partially veiled, with liver-
brown. Av. of 45 California-taken specimens in the M. C. O. coll.: 20.3 x 15.7 (.80
x .62). Season: April 15 to June 30; one or two broods.
Range of Chondestes grammacus.—North America from the Pacific Coast east,
regularly to Ohio and Tennessee, casually to the Atlantic seaboard, north to central
British Columbia and Saskatchewan, south over the Mexican plateau and, in winter,
through Lower California and southern Mexico to Guatemala.
Range of C. g. strigatus—As above, save that eastern boundary roughly coin-
cides with that of the Great Plains.
Distribution in California.—Resident throughout the State in the Upper
Sonoran life zone, but chiefly in the interior valleys west of the Sierras; found sparingly
in Lower Transition (San Jacinto Mountains, alt. 6300, June 3, 1913; Humboldt
County, June 14, 1916), and descending casually within the upper limits of Lower
Sonoran (Palm Springs, May 27, 1913; Mohave Desert, near Palmdale, May 16,
1919; Indian Wells, Inyo County, May 19, 1919). Seasonal redistribution imper-
fectly made out; local population is possibly stationary, but entire State is lightly
swept by northern migrants which reinforce local populations, or deploy over deserts.
Authorities.—Heermann (Emberiza grammica), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
ser. 2, vol. ii., 1893, p. 265; Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, pp. 456-457
(crit.; meas.); Coale, Bull. Ridgway Orn. Club, vol. ii., 1887, pp. 24-25 (crit.); Atkinson,
Oologist, vol. xvii., 1900, pp. 105-107 (life hist.); Judd, Biol. Sury. Bull., no. 15, 1901,
pp. 66-68 (part) (food); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, pp. 79-81.
Taken in Ventura Counly Photo by Donald R. Dickey
CONFIDENCE ESTABLISHED
t
GS
The Western Lark Sparrow
THERE is a spot near Shandon so endeared by reason of its verdure
and its unspoiled simplicities, that one hesitates to draw invidious atten-
tion to it. The vaquero knew its solitudes, and the rancher dwells peace-
fully upon its skirts; but so far 4, it has been spared the desecra-
tion of the ‘“‘oil-rig,”’ and the yy other engines of civilization.
If you will promise not to plot “4% “improvements, you shall
join us on an afternoon in d early April. It has been
raining off and on for > a week, but the sky
is clear now, and y | the lush grasses
welcomeour @ ] feet with the
of fulness. The
smartly to the east
rounded, varied, ver-
like a canvas before
of the canvas is yellow,
for the rains have beaten too fiercely from time
to time, and the sides of Ses oeeiahe ones the hills are rent open
with huge amphitheaters and earthen funnels,
= ° A PRUDENT MOMENT
whose sides, in turn, are gashed and scarred and
fluted in a thousand fantastic forms. Fierce little barrancas, as sharply
graven in the greensward as with the stroke of an etcher’s tool, have led off
the sudden torrents from the vortices of these weird funnels, but tiring
presently of their impetuous burdens, they have spewed out the muddy
waters in great yellow triangles over the sides of the lower slopes. But
elsewhere all is green, green save for the glowing pink of owl's foot clover,
236
abandonment
‘dobe hills rise
of the village, and their
durous eminences stretch
our vision. A full third
The Western Lark Sparrow
the purple of massed lilies, or the honest blue of
lupine, wave on wave. Little rounded chains of
flanking hills descend with graceful sweep in
cadences of green. Their sides, too, are faintly
terraced with the concentric furrows of a thou-
sand cattle trails now smothered in green. Grass
is everywhere; but over it all is the pale glaucous
shimmer of the younger sages, vying with the
accumulated grays of last year’s flower-stalks.
And here and there, partially yet gracefully dis-
tributed, are spaces dotted with the larger
“sages,’’ chamisal or eruptive Rhus, with their
stronger note of stippled blue-green.
Taken in Ventura County é s
Photo by Donald R. Dickey A lazy country road skirts this scene of
DINNER FOR FIVE beauty; and, upon either side, its intermittent
strand of fence-wire, sagging indolently, sup-
ports a gallant crowd of the merriest, sweetest sparrows to be found in the
whole glad realm. No, they are not a crowd,
either, for although the Western Lark Spar- __
rows foregather here annually to pass a
the season of courtship, and although
one may count a hundred of them
in the length of a dozen panels,
they are not animated to any
considerable extent by flock
impulses, nor does one
think of them en masse.
Whether it be run-
ning nimbly along the
ground, or leaping into
the air to catch a risen
grasshopper, one feels in-
stinctively that here is a
dainty breed. The bird
endears itself, moreover, \
because of its fondness for «_
wayside fellowship. If you ©
are on horseback, the Lark
Sparrow, like the Horned Lark,
loves to trip ahead coquettishly
along the dusty road, only to eee
place at last to your insistent steed
Taken in Washington
Photo by the Author
A SAGE-BUSH NEST
237
The Western Lark Sparrow
with an air of gentle re-
proach. As it flits away,
you catch a glimpse of
the rounded tail held half
open, with its terminal
rim of white; and you
know that you have met
the aristocrat of the
sage.
Or it may be you
have caught the bird
singing from a_ fence-
post, and rather than
lose his run (for poesy
also has its mechanics),
he will pause momentar-
ily instead of seeking
safety in flight. Then
that marvelous head
comes into full view.
What a striped beauty
he is! A finger-ring slip-
ped over the Quail-head’s
head will pass twenty-
three patches of pure
color,—black, white,
chestnut and buffy, be-
fore it encounters a
streaky admixture of
flaxen, black, and rufous-
A Taken in San Diego County ~ t fe. é Photo by Donald R. Dickey
T 7
tawny on the hindhead. A HEAVILY MARKED TYPE: NATURAL SIZE
The rest of the bird is
“sparrow-color,”’ above, relieved only by the flashing white tips of the fan-
shaped tail. If you are very lucky or very well-behaved, the song will
resume. And the song of the Lark Sparrow is one of Nature’s sacraments.
This bird, more frequently than others, is found singing in the middle
of the very hottest days in summer, and at such times his tremulous notes
come to the ear like the gurgling of sweet waters. But Ridgway’s
description is still unsurpassed.! ‘‘This song is composed of a series of
chants, each syllable rich, loud, and clear, interspersed with emotional
trills. At the beginning the song reminds one somewhat of that of the
1“ Birds of Illinois,’’ Vol. I., p. 263
238
relQ ayy Ur Uaye Ty,
sayd ‘yy plypuog tq ydvabojoyd v wos
Suno X pur Mosirdg ye] U19989 AA
YY oy) Suyynys
it
The Western Lark Sparrow
Indigo Bird (Passerina cyanea), but the notes are louder and more metal-
lic, and their delivery more vigorous. Though seemingly hurried, it is
one continued gush of sprightly music; now gay, now melodious, and then
tender beyond description,—the very expression of emotion. At inter-
vals the singer falters, as if exhausted by exertion, and his voice becomes
scarcely audible; but suddenly reviving in his joy, it is resumed in all its
vigor, until he appears to be really overcome by the effort.”’
Nor is it alone the emotions of springtime which provoke this min-
strel to utterance. In fall or winter, when they are flocking, a special
dispensation of sunshine will set them all to singing. No less than a
score of them are huddled together in a treetop, and a merry ezstedfod
we shall have of it. Little Welchmen! That’s what I call them, for
they excel in song as they do in gladness of heart. Aye, aye, what a
merry mad bird house it is! No two of them singing alike in theme or
tempo, but all of them pitching in at once with a royal good will! Isn’t
it glorious—tinkling, bubbling, gushing, trilling! Who says that a
December day in Cali-
fornia is not as good as
June anywhere else?
As in the case of the
Sandwich and Savanna
Sparrows, the curiously
striped coloration of this
bird’s head is evidently
intended to facilitate
concealment. The bird
peering out of a weed
clump is almost invis-
ible. And yet, as I was
once passing along a
sage-clad hillside with an
observing young rancher,
my companion halted
e 5 with a cry. He had
Taken in Ventura County Photo by Donald R. Dickey caught the gleam of 2),
De nea en Lark Sparrow’s eye as
she sat brooding under a perfect mop of dead broom-sage. The camera
was brought into requisition, and the lens pointed downward. The
camera-cloth bellied and flapped in the breeze, yellow tripod legs waved
belligerently, and altogether there was much noise of photographic com-
merce, but the little mother clung to her eggs. The stupid glass eye of
the machine, spite of all coaxing, saw nothing but twigs, and we were obliged
239
The Western Lark Sparrow
to forego a picture of the
sitting bird. To get a
picture of the eggs (see
page 237), I was obliged
to hack away the pro-
tecting brush, having
first slipped in a hand-
kerchief to protect the
nest and contents from
showering debris.
In the Shandon
country, where Western
Lark Sparrows abound,
nesting is oftenest un-
dertaken on the ground,
either with or without
the protection of a bush
or a lupine clump. But
in the vicinity of Santa
Barbara, where the bird
is also not uncommon,
although very irregular-
ly distributed, the nests
are oftener taken up into
trees at moderate heights. The construction in such case is correspond-
ingly improved. A sturdy basket of twigs, weed-stems, roots and twisted
grasses, is beautifully lined with horsehair (what will the birds do when
horses become extinct?). The eggs, four or five in number, white as to
ground color, and purplish black or sepia as to markings, are among the
most varied and easily the most interesting of the sparrow tribe—at
least in California. The markings of sepia are often intricately scrolled
about the larger end; and at their best the eggs are not exceeded in beauty
even by those of the oriole. One specimen before me has twenty-two
interwoven lines of color in the space of one-fifth of an inch. Another
has discontinuous lines and flecks, like the colored lint-marks in a bank-
note. Indeed, I am inclined to think that the Bureau of Printing and
Engraving got the idea from a Lark Sparrow’s egg. Other eggs again,
some few, are as plainly and sparsely marked and spotted as the egg of
a Brown Towhee (Pipilo crissalis). Oriole he is not, not even remotely;
but how did our Lark Sparrow hit upon the decorative scheme pre-
empted—patented, I had almost said—by the Bullock Oriole? Here is
a nut for odlogists to crack.
“INTRICATELY SCROLLED ABOUT THE LARGER END"
TYPE FROM M. C. O. COLLECTION, X 4
240
The Vesper Sparrows
EGGS OF THE WESTERN LARK SPARROW
A SELECTED SERIES SHOWING VARIATION: FROM THE M. C, 0. COLLECTIONS
No. 40
Vesper Sparrow
No. 40a Western Vesper Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 540a. Pooecetes gramineus confinis Baird.
Synonyms.—WESTERN GRAss FINCH. BAY-WINGED BUNTING.
Description.—Adults: General tone of upperparts grayish brown or buffy
brown on the edges of the feathers, modified by the dusky centers, and warmed by
delicate traces of rufous; bend of wing bay (between tawny and sayal brown), con-
cealing dusky centers; wings and tail fuscous with pale tawny or whitish edgings,—
outermost pair of tail-feathers principally white, the white crossing to inner web about
midway of shaft, and involving terminal portion broadly; below sordid white, sharply
streaked on breast, flanks, and sides with dusky brown; the chin and throat with small
arrow marks of the same color and bounded by chains of streaks; auriculars clear
hair-brown, with buffy or lighter center; usually a buffy suffusion on streaked area
241
The Vesper Sparrows
of breast and sides. Length of adult male 146.1-158.8 (5.75-6.25); wing 83.6 (3.29);
tail 65.8 (2.59); bill 11.2 (.44); tarsus 21.6 (.85). Female a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; general streaked appearance; white lateral
tail-feathers conspicuous in flight; frequents fields and open sage.
Nesting.— Nest: A depression in the earth, neatly lined with grasses, rootlets
and horsehair. Eggs: 4 or 5, pinkish-grayish-bluish white, speckled, spotted, and
occasionally scrawled or mottled with reddish brown. Av. size 20.5 x 15.2 (.81 x .60).
A set of four from Mono County averages 23.4 x 15.5 (.92 x .61). Season: About
June Ist; one brood.
Range of Powcetes gramineus—Temperate North America, south in winter
to southern Mexico.
Range of P. g. confinis——Western North America, breeding in Upper Sonoran,
Transition, and Lower Canadian Zones, from southeastern British Columbia, Al-
berta, and Saskatchewan, south to central eastern California and Arizona, east to
Texas and the middle of the Great Plains region; winters from southern California and
central Texas to southern Mexico and Lower California.
Distribution in California.— Breeds in high mountain meadows in the southern
Sierras, and in Transition to Canadian life zones east of the Sierras from the Inyo
Mountains north to the Oregon border; winters in the valleys of the San Diego district,
rarely to Santa Barbara, less commonly on the deserts, and in the San Joaquin Valley
north to Fresno (Tyler). Limits of winter range imperfectly made out, and perhaps
indeterminable as distinguished from P. g. affinis.
Authorities —Heermann (Emberiza graminea), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
ser. 2, vol. ii., 1853, p. 265; Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 448 (desc. of
confinis); Fisher, A. K., N. Amer. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, p. 85; Grinnell, Pasadena Acad.
Sci. Pub., vol. ii., 1898, p. 36; Judd, Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 15, 1901, p. 58 (food); Tyler,
Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, p. 77 (winter habits in Fresno district).
A SOBER garb cannot conceal the quality of the wearer, even though
Quaker gray be made to cover alike saint and sinner. Plainness of dress,
therefore, is a fault to be readily forgiven, even in a bird, if it be accom-
panied by a voice of sweet sincerity and a manner of self-forgetfulness.
In a family where a modest garb is no reproach, but a warrant to health
and long life, the Vesper Sparrow is preéminent for modesty. You
are not aware of his presence until he disengages himself from the engulfing
grays and browns of the stalk-strewn ground or dusty roadside, and
mounts a fence-post to rhyme the coming or the parting day.
The arrival of the Vesper Sparrow upon its elevated breeding grounds,
in late April or early May, according to season, may mark the supreme
effort of that particular warm wave; but you are quite content to await
the further travail of the season while you get acquainted with this
amiable new-comer. Under the compulsion of the sun the bleary fields
have been trying to muster a decent green to hide the ugliness of winter’s
devastation. But wherefore? The air is lonely and the sage untenanted.
eles ae
The Vesper Sparrows
The Meadowlarks, to be sure, have been romping about for several weeks
and getting bolder every day; but they are roisterous fellows, drunk with
air and mad with sunshine. The winter-sharpened ears wait hungrily
for the poet of common day. The morning he comes a low sweet murmur
of praise is heard on every side. You know it will ascend unceasingly
thenceforth, and spring is different.
Vesper Sparrow is the
typical ground bird. He
eats, runs, sleeps, and
rears his family on the
ground; but to sing—ah,
that is different!
Nothing less than the
tip of the highest sage-
bush will do for that; a
telegraph pole or wire is
better; and a lone tree in
a pasture is not to be
despised for this one pur-
Taken in pose. The males gather in
M . :
Conity spring to engage in decorous
Photo by 1
Hewes concerts of rivalry. The song
MT. MORRISON consists of a variety of simple,
(Alt. 12,245)
pleasing notes, each uttered two or
three times, and all strung together to
the number of four or five. The charac-
teristic introduction is a mellow whistled
he-ho, a little softer in tone than the succeeding notes. The song of the
western bird has noticeably greater variety than that of the eastern.
Not only is it less stereotyped in the matter of pitch and duration, but
in quality and cadence it sometimes shows surprising differences. One
heard in Washington, near the 4gth parallel, would have passed for
Brewer’s on a frolic, except for the preliminary “‘hee-ho’s’’; Heéoo heéoo
heéoo buzziwuzziwuzzi wuzziwuzziwuzzi weechee weechee. And it would
not be surprising if he had learned from Spizella brewer, who is a constant
neighbor and a safe guide in matters of sage lore. The scolding note,
a thrasher-like kissing sound, tsook, will sometimes interrupt a song if
the strange listener gets too close. Early morning and late evening are
the regular song periods; but the conscientious and indefatigable singer
is more apt than most to interrupt the noontide stillness also.
Since this species is a bird of open country and uplands, it cares
little for the vicinity of water; but it loves the dust of the country roads
245,
IN THE FOREGROUND
(alt. 7300) A TYPICAL
HAUNT OF THE
WESTERN
VESPER
SPARROW
The Vesper Sparrows
as dearly as an old hen, and the daily dust-bath is a familiar sight to
every traveler. While seeking its food of weed-seeds and insects, it runs
busily about upon the ground, skulking and running oftener than flitting
for safety. Although not especially timid, it seems to take a sort of
professional pride in being able to slip about among the weed-stems
unseen.
It is, of course, at the nesting time that the sneak-ability of the bird
Taken in Idaho Photo by H. J. Rust
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN VESPER SPARROW
is most severely tested.
The nest, a simple affair
of coiled grasses, is usu-
ally sunk, or chambered,
in the ground, so that its
brim comes flush with
the surface. For the
rest, the brooding bird
seldom seeks any other
protection than that of
“luck,” and her own
ability to elude observa-
tion when obliged to quit
the nest. Her behavior
at this time depends
largely upon the amount
of disturbance to which
she is subjected. At
first approach of danger
she is inclined to stick
to her post till the last
possible moment, and
then she falls lame as she
flutters off. Butif often
frightened, she shrewdly
learns to rise at a con-
siderable distance.
In the northern states
the Vesper Sparrow
raises two or even three
broods in a season, but
inasmuch as the ranges
affected by the birds in
this State are rather ele-
vated ones, it is doubtful
The Vesper Sparrows
if more than one brood is raised. The Western Vesper Sparrow is not
by any means so common in California during the breeding season as it
is in the more northern states, and its breeding range seems to be confined
chiefly to the plateau region east of the Sierras, from Owens Valley north.
I have found it most commonly in Long Valley in southern Mono
County, where, in association with the Brewer Sparrow and the Sage
Thrasher, it is one of the most characteristic birds of the dwarf-sage belt,
which skirts the lowermost slopes of the mountains. It is also a familiar
figure along the crests of the White Mountains; and we have an egg in
the M. C. O. collection which was taken there at an elevation of 10,000 feet.
There has been a notable shifting of this species within historic times.
This change has been marked by a vigorous and successive encroachment
along the northern limits of the breeding area, and, as nearly as we can
make out, by a corresponding retirement from southern territory. As
in so many other instances, the movement in California has been altitud-
inally upward, with a resultant reduction of area.
No. 40b Oregon Vesper Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 540b. Powcetes gramineus affinis Miller.
Synonyms.—Paciric VESPER SPARROW. MILLER’S GRAsS FINCH.
Description.—Similar to P. g. confinis but smaller and coloration darker,
browner above, more distinctly buffy below. Length of adult male about 146 (5.75);
wing 77.2 (3.04); tail 57.9 (2.28); bill 10.9 (.43); tarsus 20.6 (.81). Female a little
smaller.
Nesting.—Not known to breed in California. As in preceding subspecies.
Range of P. g. affinis——The Pacific Coast region; in summer from British Co-
lumbia to northwestern Oregon; in winter, California west of the Sierras to Cape San
Lucas.
Distribution in California.—Winter resident and migrant west of the Sierras.
Range imperfectly distinguished from preceding in winter, and doubtless overlapping
it in southern portion.
Authorities——Newberry (Zonotrichia graminea), Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol.
Vi., pt. iv., 1857, p. 88;Grinnell, Pasadena Acad. Sci. Pub., vol. ii., 1898, p. 36; Willard,
Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 30; McGregor, Condor, vol. ii., 1900, p. 35;Grinnell,
Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p. 113; Swarth, Condor, vol. xix., 1917, p. 130.
THE VESPER Sparrows are a very much less conspicuous element
of the Californian avifauna than of that found in the regions to the north
of us. Confinis does not breed in this State, though suitable “‘prairies”’
are not lacking in Trinity or Siskiyou counties. Known only, therefore,
as a winter resident and migrant, it seeks the open situations of the
245
The Savanna Sparrows
coastal counties, consorts freely with local Lark Sparrows, skulks about
in meadows or stubble fields, and joins in the chorus of springtime only
when it is on the point of departure for the Willamette or Puget Sound.
Mr. Bowles finds that eggs may not be looked for in the vicinity of
Tacoma before the first week in May, and they are not certainly found
before the middle of that month. Open prairie is most frequently
selected for a site, and its close-cropped mossy surface often requires
considerable ingenuity of concealment on the bird’s part. Ploughed
ground, where undisturbed, is eagerly utilized. At other times a shallow
cup is scraped at the base of a small fern, or the protection of a fallen
limb is sought.
The eggs, from three to five in number, are perhaps the most hand-
somely, certainly the most quaintly marked of any in the sparrow family.
The ground-color is grayish white; and this, in addition to sundry freck-
lings and cloudings of lavender, is spotted, blotched, and scrawled, with
old chestnut.
The female sits closely, and sometimes will not leave the nest until
removed. She seldom flies, at that, but steps off and trips along the
ground for some distance. Then she walks about uneasily or pretends
to feed, venturing little expression of concern. Curiously, her liege lord
never appears in defense of his home, but after the young are hatched
he does his fair share in feeding them.
No. 41
Savanna Sparrow
No. 41 Aleutian Savanna Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 542. Passerculus sandwichensis sandwichensis (Gmelin).
Synonyms.—LArRGER SAVANNA SPARROW. SANDWICH SPARROW.
Description.—Adults: General tone of upper plumage grayish brown—the
feathers blackish centrally, with much edging of grayish brown (sometimes bay),
flaxen, and whitish; an ill-defined mesial crown-stripe dull buffy, or tinged anteriorly
with yellowish; lateral stripes blackish, with grayish brown edging reduced; a broad
superciliary stripe yellow, clearest over lore, paling posteriorly; cheeks buffy with some
mingling and outcropping of dusky; underparts whitish, clearest on throat, washed
with buffy on sides, heavily and sharply streaked on sides of throat, breast, sides,
flanks and thighs with dusky; streaks nearly confluent on sides of throat, thus defining
submalar area of whitish; streaks darkest and wedge-shaped on breast, more diffused
and edged with buffy posteriorly; under tail-coverts usually but not always with con-
cealed wedge-shaped streaks of dusky. Bill dusky or dull horn-color above, lighter
below; feet palest; iris dark brown. Immature birds are brighter; the yellow, usually
246
The Savanna Sparrows
less prominent in superciliary stripe, is often diffused over plumage of entire head,
and, occasionally, down sides; the bend of the wing is pale yellow (or not); the sides
are more strongly suffused with buffy, which usually extends across breast. Length
of male about 146 (5.75); wing 77 (3.03); tail 53 (2.08); bill 12.2 (.48); depth at base
7.6 (.30); tarsus 22.6 (.89). Females a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size (but much more robust in appearance
than a warbler); general streaky appearance; the striation of head, viewed from before,
radiates in twelve alternating areas of black and white (or yellow); larger and lighter
than the (rare) Savanna Sparrow (P. s. savanna); larger, darker and browner than
the common Western Savanna Sparrow (P. s. alaudinus).
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest and Eggs: Much as in local
breeding species.
Range of Passerculus sandwichensis—‘‘North America from the Arctic Coast
south to Guatemala and the West Indies, breeding in the East mostly north of the
United States, in the West south to the southern part of the Mexican tableland.’’
(A. O. U. Check-List.)
Range of P. s. sandwichensis—Northwest coast, breeding in Unalaska and
neighboring islands, wintering eastward and southward along the coast from British
Columbia to northern California.
Occurrence in California.—Occasional winter visitant to northern localities
west of the Sierra divide; has been taken as far south as Merced County (Grinnell).
Authorities.—Belding, Occ. Papers, Calif. Acad. Sci., 2, 1890, p. 142; Ridgway,
Bull. U. S. Nat. Mus., no. 50, pt. i., 1901, p. 191; McGregor, Condor, vol. ii., 1900,
P. 35; Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. I1, 1915, p. I13.
No. 41a Eastern Savanna Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 542a. Passerculus sandwichensis savanna (Wilson).
Description.—‘‘Similar to P. s. sandwichensis, but decidedly smaller (wing
averaging much less than 76.20 and never more than 73.66), the bill much smaller
both actually and relatively; coloration averaging browner, with superciliary stripe
less continuously or conspicuously yellow’ (Ridgway). Av. of 16 adult males (R):
wing 69.3 (2.73); tail 49.3 (1.94); bill 10.4 (.41); depth at base 6.6 (.26); tarsus 20.8
(.82).
Range of P. s. savanna.—Eastern North America, breeding in Boreal and Tran-
sition zones, from Ungava south to northern Iowa, mountains of Pennsylvania, etc.;
and wintering from southern Indiana and New Jersey south to northeastern Mexico
and Cuba.
Occurrence in California.—Based on specimens taken in Humboldt and Del
Norte counties, the first one Dec. 4, 1910, by C. I. Clay, of Eureka, and identified
by Dr. Joseph Grinnell; others by Messrs. Joseph Mailliard, Chester Lamb and Chase
Littlejohn.
Authorities.—Clay, Condor, vol. xix., 1917, p. 68 (at Humboldt Bay); Mazlliard,
Condor, vol. xxiv., May, 1922, p. 95 (occur. at Kneeland: Prairie and Requa).
No. 41b Western Savanna Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 542b. Passerculus sandwichensis alaudinus Bonaparte.
Synonym.—Gray SAVANNAH SPARROW.
247
The Savanna Sparrows
Description.—Similar to P. s. savanna but decidedly paler and grayer; less
bay or none in edging of feathers of upperparts; yellow of superciliary stripe usually
paler, sometimes nearly white; bill longer and relatively weaker. Other dimensions
about as in P. s. savanna.
Recognition Marks.—As in P. s. sandwichensis.
Nesting.— Does not breed in California. As below.
Range of P. s. alaudinus.—Western North America, breeding from the Arctic
coast of Alaska and Mackenzie, south to the southern portion of the Mexican plateau,
east to the western edge of the Great Plains; range on the west defined by that of
P. s. nevadensis from the Great Basin region, and P. s. brooksi of the Pacific Coast dis-
trict. (It is, however, incredible that in a species as plastic as P. sandwichensis the
same breeding form should hold from Mackenzie to Mexico, a latitudinal range of
fifty degrees!) Winters from northern California and northern Texas to Lower Cali-
fornia, Mexico, and Guatemala.
Distribution in California.—Abundant in winter at lower levels and in open
situations throughout the State, but more commonly west of the Sierras. Found also
on the Santa Barbara Islands.
Authorities.—Heermann (Emberiza savanna), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser.
2, vol. ii., 1853, p. 265; Bonaparte, Comptes Rendus, vol. xxxvii., 1853, p. 918 (desc.
of alaudinus); Grinnell, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, pp. 21-22 (crit.); Grinnell, Univ. Calif.
Publ. Zool., 5, 1910, pp. 311-316 (crit.; comp. with nevadensis); Bishop, Condor, vol.
XViil., 1915, p. 188 (crit.); Palmer, T. S., Condor, vol. xx., 1918, p. 123 (discovery).
No. 41c Nevada Savanna Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 542b, part. Passerculus sandwichensis nevadensis Grinnell.
Synonyms.—DESERT SAVANNA SPARROW. PALE SAVANNA SPARROW.
Description.—Similar to P. s. alaudinus but much paler throughout in all
plumages; white replacing buff,—black streaks thus more conspicuously contrasted,
there being a minimum amount of hazel marginings; size slightly less—After Grinnell.
Of unquestionable validity as a subspecies.
Recognition Marks.—As in preceding—palest.
Nesting.— Nest: In pasture or grassy bottom lands, a depression in ground,
lined with grasses, and sparingly with horsehair; usually under protection of a ‘‘cow-
blake.’’ Eggs: 4 or 5; greenish or bluish white as to ground, spotted and marked, or
else mottled and clouded, with vandyke brown or verona brown. Sometimes the
entire egg is covered with a pale wash of this color. Av. of 18 California-taken eggs
in the M. C. O. coll.: 18 x 13.5 (.71 x .53). Season: May-June; two broods.
Range of P. s. nevadensis—The Great Basin region; limits not yet defined,
but probably has a considerable northerly extension in the Upper Sonoran zone,
possibly to British Columbia; winters, at least southerly, to the Pacific Coast and
(probably) Mexico.
Occurrence in California.—Resident in summer in watered valleys east of
the Sierra divide. An isolated colony reported by Grinnell from northeastern Kern
County. Winters south upon the deserts and southwest to the coast. Birds from
the northern confines of nevadensis probably occur throughout the State in winter
(See Bishop, Condor, XVII., Sept., 1915, p. 186).
248
Description.—Similar to P. s, satonna but decidedly paler and grayer; less
bay or none in edging of feathers of upperparts; yellow of superciliary stripe usually
paler, sometimes nearly white; bill tonger and relatively weaker. Other dimensions
about as in P. s. savanna. A
Recognition Marks.—A¢ i JP. s: candeichensis.
’ Nesting.—Does not breed California... As below.
Range of P. s. alevdinus—- Weateen Serth America, breeding from the Arctic
coast of Alaska and Mackenzie, sce to the southern portion of the Mexican plateau,
east to the western edge of the Great Plainx, range on the west defined by that of
P. s. nevadensis tres the Areas Gasin region: and /..s. brooksi.of the Pacifie Coast dis-
trict. (Tt is, however, imevedibic rhat in a species as plastic as P. sandwichensis the
same breeding form: sivvelt nakr from Mackenzie to Mexico, a latitudinal range of
fifty degrees!) Wirters treme jesrbern California and northern Texas to Lower Cali-
fornia, Stevicn, st ¢
PRI EAAER, as y
a
Seentuyien ie tatiiernes.-~ Abundant in winter attower levels and in open
dtustinas Gaancebee! tee Scam, Vet were gemmoniy west iB de Sierras. Found also —
sie ais |
“4 sundeme), pow, & of Hat. Sci. Phila., ser.
“ginpics Rend, vol SAVE SEBS3, P- 9F8 (desc.
4 SOS, PRA, 2IsZ2 erat. a Gagnnell, Univ. ‘Galil.
's}; Bishop. Condor, vol.
: voip. with wevadenst
;
ae sendor, Wet Ske, POVR, preg (discovery).
="
(aceus Savanna Marra
Ta. 6 “xt. PasSregtus sandwichensis nevadensis Grinnell.
Sa anata -LPESEAT Exe Sparrow. PALE SAVANNA SPARROW.
Deseripties. Similar to 3 @audinus but much paler throughout in all
cui seem! ahite. replacing buff, lagk Streaks thus more conspicuously contrasted,
there “sag 4 mGnimem amount Ghazl Sarginings; size slightly less After Grinnell.
64 gagqueationable validity as a suegsiciSs.
mM
Recognition Marks.—As prec&ding—palest.
*s ~—
Nesting.—- Nest: In pastipy or pe bottom lands, a depression in ground,
fined with grasses, and sparingly with hSrsehair; usually under pr¥tection of a “‘cow-
Winks.” Bges? 4.0r 53 greenish or bluish white as to ground, spotred and marked, or
vine mottled and clouded, with vandvke brown or verona brown. Sometimes the
entiee cag ig covered with a pale wash of this color. . Av. of 78 Axlifornia-taken eggs
cn He 8. C.O. coll.: £8.x 13-5 (71 * -53)- Season: May-June; two broods.
Meage of P. s. nevadensis.—The Great Basin region; limits not yet defined,
St pene: Rak a considerable northerly extension in the Upper Sonoran zone,
smut ey Betis Columbia; winters, at least southerly, to the Pacific Coast and
Cetiterata.—-Kesident in summer in watered valleys east of
tase colony reported by Grinnell from northeastern Kern —
»y the deserts and southwest to the coast. Birds from: —
cate probably occur throughout the State in winter
1955, p. £86).
The Savanna Sparrows
Authorities.—Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool.,5, 1910, pp. 312-316 (orig. desc.) ;
Bishop, Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, pp. 186-187 (crit.); Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no.
II, 1915, pp. 113-114 (range); Mazlliard, J., Condor, vol. xxi., 1919, p. 75.
No. 41d Dwarf Savanna Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 542b, part. Passerculus sandwichensis brooksi Bishop.
Description.—“‘Nearest in size of P. s. bryanti, but with slightly longer wing and
tail, slightly smaller bill, and shorter tarsus; much paler in coloring, with the dark
central stripes much narrower both above and below, and the rusty paler. Smaller,
but with relatively longer bill than P.s. alaudinus and P. s. nevadensis; much paler
and with less rusty in plumage of upperparts than P. s. alaudinus; closely resembling
P. s. nevadensts in color, but slightly darker and more brownish above, with the supra-
loral stripe broader and richer, and with the auricular region, nape and sides of neck
washed with buff, these differences showing best in birds of fresh winter plumage”’
(orig. desc.). Av. of 8 males (after Bishop): wing 66.9 (2.63); tail 46.6 (1.83); bill ro
(.39); depth at base 5.8 (.23); tarsus 20.1 (.79).
Range of P. s. brooksi—Described by Bishop from specimens taken at Sumas
and Chilliwack, B. C., supplemented by two (male and female) taken August 19,
1909, on Humboldt Bay. Probably the coast district of British Columbia and Wash-
ington, intergrading toward Humboldt Bay with bryanti. (I cannot believe that
these August specimens from Humboldt Bay were really migrants.) Also reported
by Mailliard as the breeding bird of Del Norte County.
Occurrence in California.—As above.
Authorities.—Bishop, Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, pp. 187-188 (at Humboldt Bay);
Mailliard, Condor, vol. xxiii., Sept., 1921, p. 164.
SINCE nine of the eleven recognized forms of Passerculus are accred-
ited to California, it may be in order to review the whole group briefly.
The genus Passerculus is a clearly definable and substantially homo-
geneous one. So nearly uniform is it that, save for the circumstance of
insularity connected with P. princeps (and no less with P. rostratus
sanctorum, for which, however, a specific value is not claimed), it is
debatable whether there is really more than one species, viz., P. sand-
wichensis. However opinions may differ as to the existence of recog-
nizable intergrades between P. s. sandwichensis and P. s. alaudinus,
or between P. s. bryanti and P. beldingi, or between the last named and
P. rostratus, it is certain that these coupled comparisons indicate the
lines of closest and most recent relationship. The fortunes of the incipient
species and subspecies have been so clearly influenced by the factors of
isolation and climatic control, that it may be worth while to set the
whole case before us: P. princeps is an insular form breeding on Sable
Island, Nova Scotia, and wintering along the Atlantic Coast; P. s.
sandwichensis is the robust form localized upon Unalaska and contiguous
islands, but retiring in winter along the Pacific Coast; P. s. savanna,
P. s. alaudinus, P. s. nevadensis, and P. s. brooksi, all barely differen-
249
The Savanna Sparrows
tiated, occupy during the breeding season the greater part of northern
North America and a large but irregularly defined portion of the United
States, and the elevated section of central Mexico. This range excludes
the southeastern states broadly, as it does also interior southern Cali-
fornia and Arizona. Savanna is the darker form from the northeast,
breeding north to northern Ungava, and south irregularly through the
northern and north central states, and retiring in winter as far as the
Gulf or beyond. Alaudinus breeds throughout the northwestern quarter
of North America to the north coast of Alaska, save for the portions
occupied by sandwichensis and brooksi. The latter, recently defined,
occupies the Pacific coastal region of Washington and British Columbia,
and perhaps of Oregon. Enjoying, as it does, a perpetually mild climate,
it is at least partially sedentary. Nevadensis occupies the Great Basin
region, broadly, extends north indefinitely to merge with alaudinus, and
south, narrowly, to the central tablelands of Mexico. These four forms,
with, possibly, sandwichensis proper, should always be thought of together.
Along the coast of the Californias a sharper differentiation occurs.
A form scattered over the coastal uplands from San Francisco Bay north-
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF NEVADA SAVANNA SPARROW
250
The Savanna Sparrows
ward probably deserves
separate recognition, al-
though it is not easily
distinguishable in ap-
pearance from P. s. bry-
anti. This undescribed
form probably retires to
the southward in winter;
and its occasional ap-
pearance in the San
Diegan district has
provoked discussion of
possible relationship
with belding:. Bryanti,
a darker form than
alaudinus, is believed to
be sedentary in the
marshes bordering upon
Sam FPramensco, +
Monterey, and
Humboldt bays. Its
occurrence further south
is conjectural. Beldingi is a well-marked form which, so far, appears to
be strictly sedentary in the coastal marshes from Santa Barbara to San
Diego and San Quentin Bay. Of the rostratus group, variously resident
or resident-in-summer in Lower California, rostratus proper, and, possibly,
P. r. guttatus, comes north to winter. The differentiated values of ros-
tratus and beldingi are as clear-cut as those of princeps; and their tenure
of the land is presumably as ancient. But as among specimens of sand-
wichensis, whether from Nevada, Chihuahua, Quebec, Vancouver Island,
or the Klondike, there is no certain decision, save through appeal to an
extended series of skins in one of the larger museums. In this group of
narrow distinction and broad distribution there seems to be, in like
manner, no definable difference in song and none in habit, save as enforced
by local conditions. It is idle, therefore, to try to impress upon the
popular attention the distinctions alleged within this group.
Not every bird can be a beauty any more than every soldier can be a
colonel; and when we consider that ten times as many shot-guns are in
commission in time of peace as rifles in time of war, we cannot blame a
bird for rejoicing in the virtue of humility, envying neither the epaulets
of General Blackbird nor even the pale chevrons of Sergeant Siskin. A
Savanna Sparrow, especially the washed-out western variety, is a mere
WESTERN SAVANNA SPARROW
251
The Savanna Sparrows
detached bit of brown earth done up in dried grasses—a feathered com-
monplace which the landscape will swallow up the instant you take eyes
off it. To be sure, if you can get it quite alone and very near, you see
enough to admire in the twelve-radiating pattern of the head, and you
may even perceive a wan tint of yellow in the superciliary region; but
let the birdling drop upon the ground and sit motionless amidst the
grass, or in a criss-cross litter of weed-stalks, and sooner far will you
catch the gleam of the needle in the haystack.
Savanna Sparrows are birds of the meadows, of the pastures, of
weedy waysides, and of open places generally. A fallow field is treasure-
trove; and as for the fences, every barleycorn length of every wire or
rail-top probably knows the pressure of Savanna’s foot. In the warmer
lowlands the birds swarm all winter long, and if the Zonotrichie did not
already hold unquestioned honors in point of abundance, I would respect-
fully enter P. sandwichensis as a contestant. But as for the migrants, all
you can ever get out of them is a game of hide-and-seek—or else an
apprehensive tss from distant weed-tops, where the birds are taking
counsel together as to what line of flight they shall next attempt.
Save for the littoral forms, P. s. bryanti and P. beldingi, which
receive separate consideration, the Savanna Sparrows are not extensively
resident in summer in California. They may be found regularly only
in the northeastern portion of the State, and in the region east of the
Sierras as far south as Owens Lake. Dr. Grinnell, however, has noted
an isolated colony in northeastern Kern County, at the junction of the
Kern River with its South Fork, and there is no reason why others may
not be mapped out in the meadows of the Sierran foothills.
In their nesting habits these little fellows come nearer to colonizing
than do any other resident members of the Sparrow family. Large
tracts of land, apparently suitable, will be left untenanted, while in a
nearby field of a few acres half a dozen pairs may be found nesting.
They are beginning to show an interest in irrigated tracts, especially
pastures, but they find alfalfa or grain fields quite too densely covered
for their purposes.
To ascertain the presence of these birds, the ear-test is best, when
once the song is mastered. The latter consists of a series of lisping
and buzzing notes, fine only in the sense of being small, and quite un-
musical, fsut, tsut, tsw wzezeztsubut. The sound instantly recalls the
Western Grasshopper Sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum bimaculatus),
who is an own cousin; but the preliminary and closing flourishes are
a good deal longer than those of the related species, and the buzzing
strain shorter.
Love-making goes by example as well as by season, so that when
252
The Savanna Sparrows
the choral fever is on they are all at it. The males will sing from the
ground rather than keep silence, although they prefer a weed-top, a
fence-post, or even a convenient tree. The female listens patiently, near
by, or if she tries to slip away for a bit of food, the jealous lover recalls her
to duty at once by an ardent chase.
The nest is settled snugly in the dead grasses of last year’s ungathered
crop, and is thus both concealed from above and upborne from below, and
is itself carefully done in fine dead grasses.
The sitting bird does not often permit a close approach, but rises
from the nest at not less than thirty feet. The precise spot is, therefore,
very difficult to locate. If discovered, the bird will potter about with
fine affectation of listlessness, and seems to consider that she has done
her full duty in zot showing the eggs.
My first nest of these rather baffling birds was found near Goose
Lake on the roth of June, 1912. I was traversing a big wire-grass
meadow when a male Savanna crossed my bows, settled at a hundred feet
by the edge of the water, and began to pick about with a preoccupation
which was a shade too intense. I paused and studied him carefully
until, unable longer to bear the strain of suspicion, the female burst
cover at twenty feet. I did not see exactly where she rose, but I knew I
had a warm scent, so I threw down my bandana (with which no proper
odlogist goes unprovided) and began the search on hands and knees.
A particularly good-looking “‘cow-flop’”’ tempted me to look ahead of
my proper and duller territory, and there, perfectly concealed by the
edge of the dung cushion, which was held aloof by the stiff grass, I found
a beautiful set of five dark eggs. The nest itself was merely resting upon
the surface of the damp earth, being stiffly supported all around by the
wire-grass. The female chipped solicitously, but remained out of sight;
while the male, whose zeal had done the mischief, sang diligently from a
distance of a hundred feet.
‘Nothing succeeds like success.’”’ Having found my first nest of
the Nevada Savanna Sparrow, I proceeded straightway to pick out
another. We were dragging the wire-grass on the shoreward side of
the beach ridge for ducks’ nests, when a Savanna Sparrow flushed.
I didn’t know within ten feet where the bird, presumably a male, rose;
but I chose a spot arbitrarily and looked about. An inviting example
of Minerva’s handiwork lay close by, and this I seized forthwith, where-
upon a bird exploded from beneath, revealing as she fled a dainty nest
which contained two eggs and two young just hatched. I replaced the
cow-dropping, for experiment’s sake, and found that it actually and com-
pletely covered the Sparrow’s nest, leaving only room for passage between
the lip of the nest and the benign roof. One cannot forbear a chuckle
253
The Savanna Sparrows
over this provident arrangement which Mother Nature has ordained.
But, really now, a canopy of indurated fiber upborne by a hundred sturdy
spears of grass—what is it but a fairy palace, if you will see it
so? Nature’s humblest ministries are tenderest, and the uses of life
sanctify the lowliest means.
No. 41e Bryant’s Marsh Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 542c. Passerculus sandwichensis bryanti Ridgway.
Description.—‘‘Similar to P. s. savanna, but smaller and darker, with more
slender bill; decidedly smaller and very much darker and browner than P. s. alaudinus,
with black dorsal streaks very much broader, the underparts much more heavily
streaked with black, and, in winter plumage, with the chest, sides, etc., strongly tinged
with brownish buff’? (Ridgway). Also feet and legs much darker brown. Av. of 8
California-taken males (Bishop): wing 66.1 (2.60); tail 46.1 (1.81); bill 11 (.43); depth
at base 5.9 (.23); tarsus 21.9 (.86).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; 12-rayed pattern of head; heavy streaking;
much darker and more heavily streaked on breast and sides than the Western Savanna
Sparrow, P. s. alaudinus; lighter and less heavily streaked than P. beldingt.
Nesting.— Nest: Shows characters of foregoing or succeeding form, according
to situation. Eggs: 4 or 5; indistinguishable from those of other forms. Season:
April-June; two broods.
Range of P. s. bryanti—Common resident of California coast from Monterey
north to at least Humboldt Bay; largely but not exclusively confined to vicinity of
salt marshes. Irregularly south in winter, at least as far as Santa Barbara.
Authorities.—Baird (Passerculus anthinus), Rept. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix.,
1858, p. 445; Ridgway, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. vii., 1885, p. 517 (desc. of bryant?) ;
Wicks, Avifauna, vol. i., 1895, p. 27 (nesting); Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 11,
I9I5, p. 114 (range; crit.); Squires, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 228 (on uplands);
Mailliard, J. and J. W., Condor, vol. xxii., 1920, pp. 63-66, 2 figs. (on hills of Marin Co.).
THE CASE of the Bryant Marsh Sparrow is still open for investiga-
tion. It is so largely a matter for expert judgment that I propose to
present a brief anthology of current discussion; and pass all questions of
habit with the remark that Bryant’s Marsh Sparrow of the lowlands is
essentially like its kinsman, P. be/dingi, both in its attachment to the life
of the tidal marshes, especially salicornia, and in its sedentary character.
“Common resident on the tidal marshes bordering Monterey, San
Francisco, Tomales and Humboldt Bays. The metropolis of this sub-
species in its most typical characters is the salicornia association of San
Francisco Bay and here in many places it is abundant. The Humboldt
Bay representatives (specimens in Mus. Vert. Zool.) are somewhat inter-
254
The Savanna Sparrows
mediate in character towards alaudinus. Wherever this form occurs at
all it is apparently permanently resident.’”’ (Grinnell, 1915)1.
“Bryant’s Marsh Sparrow (Passerculus s. bryanti) is common on
the marshes around Humboldt Bay, its breeding habitat being supposedly
confined to tidal marshes. Yet a male of this form was taken on May 28
(1916) on Kneeland prairie on top of a range at an elevation of about
2800 feet and 18 miles from salt water. It appeared to be nesting but
neither nest nor mate was secured. This individual is indistinguishable
from specimens taken at same date on salt marsh near Eureka except that
the bill is more slender than any other obtained.” (Mailliard, 1916).
“Joseph Mailliard’s note on the Bryant Marsh Sparrow in a recent
issue of The Condor suggests a solution to what has been a puzzling
problem to me for some time. I have found the Bryant Marsh Sparrow
breeding on the Islais Marsh, south of the Potrero district. But there are
other birds apparently of this species, averaging somewhat lighter,
however, found resident in the Presidio, on the Ingleside Golf Links, and
high up the slopes of Twin Peaks. I have noted them many times
during the breeding season at the two last named stations. Most of the
books speak of this sparrow as though it were found nowhere else than on
the salicornia marshes near sea level. It is my opinion that there is an
upland form of Passerculus sandwichensis bryanti which verges toward
P. s. alaudinus, and that it ranges from Humboldt County south at least
to the Transition area of San Francisco County. I may add that |
noted this same light-colored Bryant Marsh Sparrow last July on the
uplands of western Sonoma County some miles from the sea.’’ (Squires).
“The question is an interesting one, and there seems a great likelihood
that there really are two forms nearly alike but of different habits.
I have taken specimens of what I supposed was bryanti at different
times and places high up on hills and ranges, but, except for the one
mentioned in the notes from Humboldt Bay, have never taken any at
a high elevation in the height of the breeding season, although a few
were taken at dates very close to it. These latter were supposed to be
wanderers or non-breeders at the time, but recent events make me doubt
this conclusion.
“Tn our collection is a set of eggs, taken by C. A. Allen, at that
time living at Nicasio, Marin County, California, the data of which are
as follows: ‘Western Savannah Sparrow. Black Mt., Marin Co., Calif.,
Apr. 29, 1877. Eggs fresh. Nest on ground. Male shot. Nest on
top of mountain.’ This is not the exact wording of the data but is the
essence of it. We did not see the parent of this set, and have always
1 Pacific Coast Avifauna, no. 1], by Joseph Grinnell (Oct. 21, 1915), p. 114.
2 Joseph Mailliard in The Condor, Vol. XVIII., Sept., 1916, p. 199.
3W. A. Squires in The Condor, Vol. XVIII., Nov., 1916, p. 228.
1
LAN)
1
The Belding Marsh Sparrow
been very skeptical concerning its identification or connection with the
nest, but have kept the set in abeyance all this time. It looks now as if
Allen might have been pretty close to the truth, and that the bird was
this possible upland form.” (Mailliard):.
No. 42
Belding’s Marsh Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 543. Passerculus beldingi Ridgway.
Synonyms.—BELDING’s SPARROW. SOUTHERN SAVANNA SPARROW. SAN DIEGO
Marsu SPARROW.
Description.—‘‘Similar to P. sandwichensis bryanti, but still darker in colora-
tion, the underparts more heavily and more extensively streaked with black, the
upperparts more olivaceous and more uniform; wing and tail averaging shorter, but
bill larger; legs and feet darker (grayish brown)’’ (Ridgway). Also bill slenderer,
longer, and differently proportioned. Adults (sexes alike): Above blackish brown
highly varied and tempered by marginings of dull, rusty, grayish brown or olive-
gray; head showing obscurely the 12-rayed pattern of the genus, but central crown
stripe scarcely distinguishable, and the malar and sub-malar stripes less coherent,
superciliary pale yellow, and sometimes a yellow tinge spreading over crown; under-
parts white, or palest buffy, heavily streaked, especially on breast and sides, with
brownish black, the lateral streaks sometimes bordered vaguely with rusty brown;
the longest under tail-coverts narrowly and very sparingly streaked with blackish.
Bill brownish, darker above, lighter below; feet and legs brown. Length of adult
male about 146 (5.75); av. of males: wing 65.4 (2.58); tail 48.3 (1.90); bill 11.5 (.45);
depth at base 5.6 (.22); tarsus 21.3 (.84). Females somewhat smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; marsh-haunting habits; the darkest and
most heavily streaked of the Marsh Sparrows.
Nesting.— Nest: On moist ground of tidal marsh in salicornia, well concealed,
or else in protecting clump of neighboring levels; a rather bulky cup of weed-stems
and grasses. Eggs: 3, or rarely, 4; greenish or bluish white, speckled and spotted
or washed and clouded with verona brown. Av. of 10 eggs in M. C. O. coll.: 18.5
xX 14.2 (.73 x .56). Season: April-June, two broods. ‘
General Range.—Common resident of the coastal marshes from San Diego
north at least to Santa Barbara. Never strays far from the beach bluffs in the neigh-
borhood of salt marshes.
Distribution in California.—As above.
Authorities.—Coues (Passerculus anthinus), Ibis, ser. 2, vol. ii., 1866, p. 268;
Henshaw, Rept. Orn. Wheeler Survey, 1876, p. 240 (meas., habits); Ridgway, Proc.
U.S. Nat. Mus., vol. vii., 1885, p. 516 (desc. of beldingt); Gault, Bull. Ridgway Orn.
Club, vol. ii., 1887, pp. 58-60 (nesting) ; Belding, Occ. Papers, Calif. Acad. Sci., 2, 1890,
pp. 144-145 (nesting); Robertson, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 73 (nesting);
Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 77 (status; nesting season).
1 Joseph Mailliard in The Condor, Vol. XIX., March, 1917, p. 69.
256
The Belding Marsh Sparrow
THE “SAVANNA” Sparrows,
elsewhere highly migratory, have
along the coasts of the Californias
become largely sedentary, and are,
therefore, better known as Marsh
Sparrows. Most contented of all are
the little dark beldingis, which inhabit
the tidal marshes such as dot the
coast between Santa Barbara and
San Quentin Bay, L. C. We are
bound to admit that the birds’ re-
quirements as to house furnishing,
“garden sass,’ and such, are of the
most modest; but ‘‘eternal sunshine’”’
(with a judicious blending of eternal
fog), a glimpse of the empurpled
hills, and the wafting of gentle sea
breezes, the purest on earth, make
beldingt immeasurably content with
his little plot of salicornia and his
front parapet of sand dunes. So far
as we know, therefore, the Belding
Marsh Sparrow is absolutely seden-
tary, and each individual lives and
5 dies in its own little pasture.
Taken in Santa Barbara County Photo by the Author But it never occurs to anyone to
BELDING MARSH SPARROW pity the Belding Marsh Sparrows.
We are filled with envy, instead, as
often as we visit their haunts. Every rod’s advance through the impeding
succulent weeds puts up a sparrow who forthwith posts on an uppermost
spray and regards you with patient indulgence; or else signals to his
fellows, similarly posted, as to the next convenient rendezvous. Presently
he plumps into the depths again, and pursues his business so adroitly
that you will scarcely see him after. It is all so detached, so other-
worldly, so utterly beyond your feeble apprehensions, that you feel like
an unlettered cow permitted to stand in a clover field where fairies are
at play.
The case is quite hopeless unless you are provided with binoculars,
say of 8-power. It is good sport, then, to study the sleek outlines of a
posted sparrow, to note the smart blackish stripes which crowd the
chest and cover the flank, the touch of yellow over the eye, which relates
the bird to sandwichensis, the feet darker than any other of the genus,
257
The Belding Marsh Sparrow
and, most of all, the twinkling eye, which tells not of taxonomic secrets—
most trifling of all—but of a merry life, rich in experience and high
adventure, and not unacquainted with passion.
Belding Sparrows colonize, rather closely, at nesting time—a certain
five-acre stretch at Sandyland harbors about twenty pairs in April—
and at all seasons the birds know where their fellows are. At the close
of the nesting season the Sparrows deploy more widely through the more
elevated weedy stretches which surround the marshes proper, or take up
their station in the sand dunes, where they may welcome the return of
Pipit, most indefatigable of beach-combers, or of Audubon Warbler,
gayest of beach-haunt-
ing tourists. At such
times, also, they invade
the beaches proper, nim-
bly pursuing the kelp-
flies, or snatching salty
comfits from the wet
sand. The approach of
a stranger, however, re-
calls the impropriety of
such a course. There
may be a little hiding
and sulking behind
driftwood or stranded
kelp-roots, but a mo-
ment’s reflection sends
them bolting for cover
in the beloved weeds.
Not all ears may hear
the humble ‘‘chip”’ with
which the birds keep in
touch, and the song,
here possibly first de-
scribed, is so insect-like,
that one despairs of
persuading his friends to
attend its trivial course.
For an ear keyed high
the bird says, tszt tsit tsu
weezz tsit tsit, and though
a mouse could put it to
shame as a vocalist, the
258
Taken in San Diego County Photo by Donald R. Dickey
NEST AND EGGS OF BELDING MARSH SPARROW
|
|
The Large-billed Sparrows
bird is dead in earnest, so that the difficulty experienced by the performer
in squeezing out the weezz note gives the listener a spasm of sympathy.
When the courting season is at its height, all the fairies (or, more properly,
exactly half of them) are talking at once; and the intrusive cow steps
softly so as not to miss the fun.
Nesting is on in early April, while by May Ist most of the house-
holders have brought off their broods. The birds nest indifferently in
the shelter of the salicornia itself, or else they seek the protection of
larger growth hard by. <A discovery is made by accident, as of some
bird sitting tighter than usual and flushing directly at close range. For
when the colony is aroused the females appear to slip away at long range,
and one may tramp about for an hour among forty pairs, all mildly
disturbed and very alert, without making a single location. When
flushed at close range, and knowing that she is observed, the female
flutters over the tops of the plants for a great distance as though seeking to
decoy. But if the nest is approached, she will not return nor evince
further interest.
The nest is settled firmly upon the ground among interlaced stems
or grasses, and always under adequate cover of grass or weed. One
nest before me is made entirely of dried salicornia stems, lined with
duck feathers. Another, deeply cupped, is composed of frayed weed-
stems and finely woven grasses, with a single horsehair. The eggs have
the same variety of ground as those of the San Diego Song Sparrow,
and are not certainly distinguishable from them in markings; but they
average lighter.
No. 43
Large-billed Marsh Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 544. Passerculus rostratus rostratus (Cassin).
Description.—Adults (sexes alike): Above and on sides of hind-neck drab,
streaked sparingly on back with dark brown, and sharply on pileum with blackish;
wings margined with lighter brown (wood-brown or avellaneous); a short yellowish
buffy superciliary; a rictal stripe and a submalar stripe of cinnamon-brown enclosing
narrow malar area of white; underparts buffy white, almost immaculate on chin
and throat, middle. of belly and on under tail-coverts; heavily streaked across breast
and on sides, each streak blackish brown, bordered broadly with cinnamon-brown.
Bill brown above, paler (yellowish brown) below; feet and legs light brown. Length
about 152.4 (6.00); av. of males: wing 72 (2.84); tail 53 (2.09); bill 13 (.52); depth
at base 7.6 (.30); tarsus 23 (.91). Females somewhat smaller.
259
The Large-billed Sparrows
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; pale coloration, light grayish brown above,
white streaked with brown below; beach-haunting and pier-dwelling habits.
Nesting.—Not known to breed in California. Nest and eggs still undescribed.
Doubtless much as in preceding species.
Range of P. rostratus——Southern California, Lower California, and the coast
of Sonora.
Range of P. r. rostratus—According to Oberholser, breeds at the head of the
Gulf of California in Sonora and Lower California. At the close of the breeding
season scatters to southward, westward, and northwestward, reaching coast of southern
California and Cape San Lucas.
Distribution in California.—Resident in ‘‘winter’’ from August to March
along the coast of southern California, from San Diego north regularly to Point Con-
ception, casually (?) to Santa Cruz; also in the southern interior, at least at Salton
Sea (Mecca, Jan. 31, 1913).
Authorities.—Cassin, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1852, p. 184 (original de-
scription); Heermann, Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, vol. ii., 1853, p. 265 (habits
in brief); Grinnell, Auk, vol. xxii., 1905, pp. 16-21 (query as to summer range; Calif.
synonymy); Anthony, Auk, vol. xxiil., 1906, pp. 149-152 (regarding breeding range);
Oberholser, Ohio Journal of Science, vol. xix., 1919, pp. 344-354 (crit.; range).
No. 43a San Lucas Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 544a. Passerculus rostratus guttatus Lawrence.
Description.—Similar to P. r. rostratus, but smaller and slightly darker, es-
pecially as to streaking of underparts; sides more deeply marked with brownish buffy;
bill slenderer.
General Range.—'‘‘Lower California. Breeds on Abreojos Point; winters in
southern part of the Peninsula (San José del Cabo)’’ (A. O. U. Check-List).
Occurrence in California.—Records by Edward J. Brown, of Los Angeles,
of a male taken at Anaheim Landing, Orange County, Oct. 5, 1916, and eighteen skins
of both sexes collected at Sunset Beach, Orange County, between Nov. 13, 1916
and Jan. 31, 1917. Identified by Mr. H. C. Oberholser.
Authorities.—Brown, E. J., Auk, vol. xxxiv., 1917, p. 340 (Anaheim and Sunset
Beach); Grinnell, Condor, vol. xxi., 1919, p. 41.
CHRISTMAS bathing at Coronado or Long Beach is regularly
featured by the ‘“‘movies,”’ and duly participated in by loyal Californians,
desirous of impressing their eastern friends. It is great sport for the
hardy and the boastful; but it is the August crowd, panting from the
fervid interior stretches, which bathes because it must. And it is August
which brings the Large-billed Sparrow to our shores. Seated demurely
on a cushion of kelp, or scuttling nimbly about among its stranded rib-
bons, the bird snaps at flies and snatches up the tid-bits of the sea. So
modest are its ways and so sober its colors, it is quite likely to escape
the notice of careless bathers; but once espied, the bird becomes motion-
less, or else breaks for the shelter of the dunes.
260
vivqgieg BjURS UT Uaye T,
4oyinp ayy tq ydvibozoyd v UWLOL GT
MOLIEdS P2T[Iq-99.1e'T jo JLVLVIO
The Large-billed Sparrows
August is the proper seaside month, and Large-billed Sparrows are
common all along our southern beaches at this season. Some few remain
through the season, domiciled in the drift-wood, which is their favorite
but scanty hiding place; but most of the birds settle upon our docks or
piers for their winter residence. Here they subsist upon the crumbs
left from fishermen’s lunches, or upon the oats scattered by wasteful
work-horses. The undergirding of the wharf affords them welcome
shelter, to which they instantly repair in time of danger.
Contact with civilization has not yet roughened their manners,
as it has in the case of the blatant English Sparrows; for they are ever
dainty and demure. It is well worth while in an idle noon to entice
these birds by proffer of crumbs, to see them race over the planking with
many a prudent halt, and
finally accept your offering
with sippling beaks (pre-
cisely as though they were
drinking instead of eating)
and upturned glances of
gratitude.
At such times also we
have heard the Passercu-
line song, although, coming
as it did in midwinter,
probably not in its fullest
volume. The song, gener-
ically similar to that of
P.s.alaudinus, is squeakier,
if possible, as well as
longer, and it ends in a
pookish trill, both finer and
lighter: Tsut tsut tsu w2zz
tsut tsu wizzy weee. Having
little enough of musical
quality, its delivery is at-
tended with visible effort,
as though it had to be squeezed out to the last atom.
Those who sigh at the passing of the mysteries, have at least this
small comfort, that the nesting range of the Large-billed Sparrow is not
yet (Sept., 1915) precisely determined, and that its nest and eggs are
still unknown. By dint of much public inquiry in 1905 it developed
that Mr. A. W. Anthony had taken a female in breeding condition in
April at Rancho San Ramon, 25 miles north of San Quentin Bay, Lower
Taken in Santa Barbara Photo by the Author
THE WHARFINGER
261
The Large-billed Sparrows
California; and that he had seen other such ministering to scattered
young in the neighborhood of Oceanside, above San Diego. Mr. A. M.
Ingersoll also believes that he once saw a nesting female near San Diego.
These records probably do mark the breeding range of the species, al-
though it may extend considerably further southward. It is surmised,
also, that the Large-billed Sparrow nests on drier ground, or at least that
it does not invade the salt marshes, which are the peculiar province
of P. beldingt.
The case is an interesting one, because Large-billed Sparrows are
of regular occurrence, except during the breeding season, all along our
Taken in Santa Barbara Photo by the Author
LARGE-BILLED MARSH SPARROW EATING OATS
southern coasts as far north at least as Santa Barbara; and there is one
record of a specimen taken at Santa Cruz, August 27, 1895.
If the surmise of a southern breeding haunt proves to be correct
we shall have here, as pointed out by Dr. Grinnell,1 an example, unique
among our land birds, of a northward autumnal migration with compensa-
tory vernal return. The bird also winters along the shores of Lower
California and western Mexico, in proportions not yet defined; but inas-
much as it is a strictly littoral species, never being found at rest above
half a mile from salt water, it is not altogether surprising that the bird
should seek to expand its range in both directions.
JAuk, Vol. XXII., Jan., 1905, p. 20.
262
i at
The Western Grasshopper Sparrow
No. 44
Western Grasshopper Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 546a. Ammodramus savannarum bimaculatus (Swainson).
Description.— Adults in spring: Crown brownish black, parted by a median
stripe of buffy gray; nape olive-gray, spotted with dark cinnamon; remaining upper-
parts black and fuscous, feathers edged with light olive-gray and tipped with cinnamon
in varying proportions (a single feather, as from the greater wing-coverts, will exhibit
the four colors); below cinnamon-buffy, brightest on the breast, clearing to whitish
on lower breast and belly; the sides and flanks darker; an elongated spot over the eye,
bend of wing, and edge of wing near alula, yellow. Bill horn-color above, yellow
below; feet yellow. Jn winter: plumage softer and more blended by reason of increase
of the cinnamon-buffy element, which now appears as additional margining of feathers
above. Young birds are heavily spotted with blackish across the chest. Length of
adult male 123.2-132 (4.85-5.20); wing 62.5 (2.46); tail 46.5 (1.83); bill 10.9 (.43);
tarsus 19.6 (.77).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; unmarked below; bright yellow edge of
wing; grasshopper notes; an obscure, close-hiding terrestrial species.
Nesting.— Nest: On the ground; a cup of coiled, dried grasses, sunk flush with
surface and usually well concealed in grass or other vegetation. Eggs: 4 or 5; short-
ovate, sometimes rounded; clear white, sharply and moderately, or heavily, speckled
and spotted, chiefly at larger end, with reddish brown (burnt umber to pecan brown);
av. size 18.8 x 14.2 (.74 x .56). Season: April to June, but chiefly May; one or two
broods.
Range of A. savannarum.—United States south to West Indies, Central America,
and northern South America.
Range of A. s. bimaculatus——Western North America, breeding from south-
eastern British Columbia, northern Montana, and southern Minnesota, south to
southern California and Texas. Winters from central California, southern Arizona,
and southern Texas, to Cape San Lucas and Central America.
Distribution in California.—Partially resident or summer resident, irregu-
larly and locally, in meadows and lowlands, or on open grassy hillsides west of the
Sierras, from Sacramento and Mendocino counties (Ukiah, June 13, 1916) south to
San Diego; more widely distributed in winter.
Authorities—Heermann (Emberiza passerina), Journ. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
ser. 2, vol. ii., 1853, p. 265; Henshaw, Rept. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1876, pp. 240-241
(nesting at Santa Barbara); Willett, Condor, vol. xii., 1910, p. 204; Pac. Coast Avifauna,
no. 7, 1912, p. 78 (nesting in so. Calif.); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, pp.
78-79 (habits); Dixon, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, pl. 84 (nesting at Escondido) ; Pember-
ton, Condor, vol. xix., 1917, pp. 24-25 (nesting in Santa Monica Mts.).
“THOSE bird-lovers who disclaim all interest in entomology will be
slow in discovering this humble species, for its song is nearer like the
chirring of some insect than the voice of a bird. There always comes a
day in late April when the half-grown meadows and fields are suddenly
found to contain from one to six pairs each of these buzzing Sparrows.
263
The Western Grasshopper Sparrow
But with the possible exception of certain Warblers, there is no other
bird of anything like the abundance of this one, whose very outline is so
nearly unknown to all but the experienced bird-watcher. Its coloration
is the plainest possible, its station lowly, and its habits secretive. Perched
upon some weed-top, or standing on a fence-rail, the male sends out at
regular intervals a weak hissing trill which occupies a fraction over a
second in delivery. The sound is not exactly like that of any known
insect, but is comparable to the clicking of a locust—or better, to the
shrilling of the corydalis. Again, the opening and closing of a loud-ticking
watch, especially if it be opened with a clatter and shut with a snap,
is suggestive of the strange performance. Later in the season a longer
effort is sometimes heard. First comes the full ‘chirr,’ then slow notes,
three or four in number, as though the progress of the ‘wheels’ was
somewhat impeded; after which the burr proceeds with the original or
accelerated rapidity—the whole occupying three seconds. The song will
carry a hundred yards for a sharp ear, or further if the ear be laid to the
ground; but a fresh cold in the head will spoil the concert at thirty feet.
“Only once did I see a Grasshopper Sparrow holding forth from
the top of a tall sapling in a fence-row. Surely he must have atoned
for his boldness by skulking among the grass roots for two days there-
after. The birds require to be nearly stepped upon—technically ‘kicked
out’—before they will take wing. Some will move off in a flurried
zig-zag, but others with a direct buzzing flight like a bee,—in both cases
to plump down into the weeds at no great distance.’’ (The Birds of
Ohio).
The foregoing account applies equally well to the western form of
the Grasshopper Sparrow, which is merely a little paler and differently
proportioned. But something remains to be said of the highly irregular
distribution of the western bird in the breeding season. It 1s common
only in the “San Diegan district,’ a faunal area which embraces Ventura
and Santa Barbara; and even here it is very sharply localized, being
found in some low-lying meadow, or again in an upland pasture, and not
occurring again for a dozen miles. In the State at large one might
travel a hundred miles without once encountering it. Then suddenly a
colony of a dozen pairs might be found occupying a stretch of alfalfa, or
a grassy hillside not too closely cropped by cattle. Besides the stations
of occurrence enumerated by Grinnell,! I have found it breeding (or
at least singing) in northeastern San Luis Obispo County, and in north-
western Kern, on the coastal mesa above Santa Cruz, and at a point
near Ukiah in Mendocino County.
Nesting occurs from April to June according to elevation and season.
1 Distributional List, p. 115.
264
Western Grasshopper Sparrow at Nest
From a photograph by D. R. Dickey and L. Huey
Taken near San Diego
The Western Grasshopper Sparrow
The nests are grass-lined depressions sunk flush with the level of the
ground, and usually ensconced in the shelter of some weed or important-
looking grass-tuft. The female leaves in a casual way, and whether she
sneaks or flushes sharply, it takes a quick eye to mark the movement of
such an obscure groundling.
Mr. J. B. Dixon reports! the taking of a nest near Escondido, first
noted on the 13th of April, 1915. It was
located in an extensive alkaline
meadow covered with salt grass,
and enjoyed the shelter of a
clump of grass. The nest,
which contained four eggs,
was built entirely of fine
dead weed-stalks,
loosely pressed together,
with a lining of fine dry
grass and grass-seed-
heads, and was so frail
that its removal could
with difficulty be accom-
plished.
“When we ap-
proached the nest the
female flattened out on
the nest and watched us
anxiously. She flushed
when we were about six
feet away, and after we
had stood still for several
seconds conversing in
whispers upon the color
pattern of the back, and
the lack of a decided
yellow streak over the
eye the observers had
anticipated some form
of Passerculus. The
bird slipped off the nest
with no trace of commo-
tion, and ran, or rather
sneaked away, using
Taken in San Diego County Photo by D. R. Dickey and L. Huey
WESTERN GRASSHOPPER SPARROW: (Cover Cut Away)
1 Condor, Vol. XVIII., March, 1916, p. 84.
265
The Nelson Sparrow
every available tuft of grass as a screen to hide behind. When she
reached a little ridge about twenty feet away she hopped up in plain
sight, and took a flying hop to another ridge a few feet farther away.
To a passerby she would appear to have flushed from a point some
twenty feet away from the nest. Mr. Schnack observed the bird when
she left the nest several times, and he said that this was her character-
istic way of leaving it. The male could be heard uttering a faint
insect-like chip from some clod or ridge near by, but he was very shy
and kept circling the nest at a distance.”
No. 45
Nelson’s Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 549.1. Ammospiza caudacuta nelsoni (Allen).
Synonym.—NELSON’s SHARP-TAILED SPARROW.
Description.— Adult (sexes alike): Pileum narrowly black, warmed by brown
edgings; a median stripe of olive-gray, broadening behind; a narrow nuchal collar,
dresden brown centrally, olive-gray laterally, in highest plumage pattern of back and
scapulars falling into four broad stripes of mingled black and dark brown, bordered
narrowly by white and converging behind; the effect carried out by tertials having
black centers and white lateral borders (in lower plumage pattern lost, but all colors
represented as streaks); rump and upper tail-coverts mingled olive-gray and tawny-
olive sharply streaked with black; edge of wing pale yellow, the flight-feathers with
tawny olive edging (carrying out color scheme of sides); throat narrowly and belly
broadly white; remaining plumage, viz., sides of head (enclosing a gray space bordered
above with black), chest broadly, sides, and crissum, clay-color (grayish orange-
yellow), the chest and sides obscurely streaked with dusky. Bill dark brown above,
lighter below; feet and legs (drying) brownish. Length about 139.7 (5.50); wing 55
(2.17); tail 47.5 (1.87); bill 10.4 (.41); tarsus 20 (.79). Females average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; strong tawny (clay-colored) suffusion of
breast, superciliary and sides; variegated pattern of upperparts, which always in-
cludes sharp white streaks on scapulars.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: On the ground, of grasses,
usually well concealed by surrounding grasses. Eggs: 5; whitish or dull greenish
white, heavily speckled and spotted, or else nearly buried in reddish brown (Rood’s
brown to snuff brown). Avy. size 19 x 13.7 (.75 x .54). Season: About June Ist.
Range of Ammospiza caudacuta.—Marshes both salt and fresh of eastern and
interior North America. Winters on the Atlantic and Gulf coasts from North Caro-
lina to Texas.
Range of A. c. nelsoni—The interior representative, breeding from Great
Slave Lake and west central Alberta southeastward to northeastern South Dakota;
winters on South Atlantic and Gulf coasts; casual on the north Atlantic coast during
migrations as far as Maine. Accidental in California.
Occurrence in California.—See below.
266
|
The Nelson Sparrow
NELSON SPARROW
Authorities.—Ridgway, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. xiv., 1891, p. 483 (at Mil-
pitas; desc. of fbeckz); Dwight, Auk, vol. xiii., 1896, pp. 271-278, pl. iv. (mono-
graph); Barlow, Condor, vol. ii., 1900, p. 132.
207
The Rufous-crowned Sparrow
THE NELSON Sparrow lives a life of such furtive obscurity, even
on its breeding grounds in the Dakotas and on the Canadian plains, that
the mention of its name does not excite hope in the Californian breast.
Its casual appearance in California, twice recorded, is not supported by
additional evidence west of the Rocky Mountains, and we are left to
suppose that both cases are really accidental, examples of those stragglers,
common to many species, which attempt to go straight south in autumn
instead of proceeding in a sharply southeasterly direction, as prescribed
by ancient precedent. But we speak with studied restraint. Almost
anything may prove to be true regarding the range of a species so obscure.
The very existence of the bird was not suspected until 1875, when it
was taken on the Calumet marshes, in what is now South Chicago.
Almost immediately thereafter it was recorded from Racine, Wisconsin,
then from Michigan, then from Kansas, and then it began to bob up on
the Atlantic seaboard. The history of the progressive recognition of this
tgnis fatuus of the marshes, until its normal range was known to include
Great Slave Lake and the Gulf States, is one of the lesser romances of
ornithology.
The nesting was first described by Walter Raine! from examples
studied in Manitoba; but the first United States record was made by
Eugene S. Rolfe? who, on June 14, 1899, found a nest containing five
eggs deeply sunk in wet earth of a tiny grass island in a dismal flooded
area near Devil’s Lake. Mr. Rolfe’s prediction that “its discovery will
probably continue rare and the merest accident” has proved all too true.
An acquaintance, Mr. Remington Kellogg, recently employed by the
Biological Survey for explorations in the Dakotas, informs me, however,
that he found several nests of the Nelson Sparrow during the course of a
season’s work. But having been straitly charged by “‘the Chief,’’ whose
youthful predilections have been quite forsworn, not to “‘bother with
birds’ eggs,’’ these rarities were, unfortunately, lost to science.
No. 46
Rufous-crowned Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 580. Aimophila ruficeps ruficeps (Cassin).
Description.—Adult (sexes alike): Rufous and olive-gray; the olive-gray
purest on sides of neck and sides of head (where appearing as broad superciliary and as
malar stripe), darkening as it crosses the chest broadly, with accession of tawny element
on sides and crissum; clearing, buffy whitish, on throat and belly; above and on wing-
1 Nidiologist, Vol. I., Feb., 1894, p. 88.
2 Nidologist, Vol. VI., Oct., 1899, pp. 356-357.
268
‘The Peotone Sparros
WS
THE NELSON Sparrow lives a “life ‘of alle Rutive ae even
on its breeding grounds i in the Dakotas and on the Canadian plains, that
the mention of its name does not excite hope in the Californian ee
Its casual appearance in California, twice recorded, is not supported by
additional evidence west of the Rocky Mountains, and we are left to
suppose that both cases are really accidental, examples of those stragglers,
common to many species, which attempt to go straight south in autumn
instead of proceeding im a sharply southeasterly direction, as prescribed
by ancient precedent. But we speak with studied restraint. Almost
anything may prove to be true regarding the range of a species so obscure.
The very existence of the bird was not suspected until 1875, when it
was taken on the Calumet marshes, in what is now South Chicago.
Almost immediately thereafter it was recorded from Racine, Wisconsin,
then from Michigan, then from Kansas, and then it began to bob up on
the Atlantic seaboard. The history of the progressive recognition of this
ignis faluus of the marshes, until its normal range was known to include
Great Slave Lake and the Gulf States, is one of the lesser romances of
ornithology.
The nesting was first described by Waiter Raine! from ue
studied in Manitoba; but the first United States record was made by
Eugene S. Rolle? « on June i 9, found a nest containing five
eggs deeply sunk “Rufo ufous “crown med, Spar AITOW nd in a dismal flooded
area near Devil’s Lake. MAbobtcifdige piediction that “its discovery will
probably continue rare and the merest accident’’ has proved all too true.
An acquaintance, Mr. Remington Kellogg, recently employed by the
Biological Survey for explorations in the Dakotas, informs me, however,
that he found several nests of the Nelson Sparrow during the course of a
season's work. But having been straitly charged by ‘‘the Chief,’”” whose
youthful predilections have been quite forsworn, not to “bother with —
birds’ eggs,” these rarities were, unfortunately, lost to science.
No. 46
Rufous-crowned Sparrow
A. O. U, No. 580. Aimophila ruficeps ruficeps (Cassin).
Descriptien.—Aduli (sexes alike): Rufous and olive-gray; the~olive-gray
Purest ow sides of neck and sides of head (where appearing as bread superciliary and as’ _
malas stripe), darkening as it crosses the chest broadly, with accession of tawny element ‘<
on sides and crissum; clearing, buffy whitish, on throat and belly; above and on a
4 Nidiciog: , Feb.. 1894, p. 88,
? Nidolagis?, i Vit, Oct., 1899, on 356-357.
268
The Rufous-crowned Sparrow
coverts appearing as skirting, or bordering, with increase posteriorly; the rufous ele-
ment (between chestnut and mars brown) nearly pure on top of head (or faintly parted
by median line of olive-gray), elsewhere appearing as broad centers of feathers, on
hind-neck, back, and scapulars, in decreasing ratio posteriorly; wings and tail rufous-
dusky, the secondaries edged with rufous, and the tail chiefly dull rufous on upper
exposed surface, which is also obscurely barred with darker; edge of wing pale buffy;
a post-ocular streak of rufous; a narrow line over eye, and a distinct malar stripe black.
Bill dark horn-color above, lighter below; feet and legs very pale brownish. Young
birds are duller and grayer above, and very finely streaked with brownish dusky below,
with slight increase of the tawny element posteriorly. Length of adult male: 146-
153 (5.75-6.00); wing 59 (2.32); tail 63.5 (2.50); bill 11.4 (.448); tarsus 20 (.78). Fe-
male doubtfully smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Small Sparrow size; rufous color nearly pure on crown
and spread decreasingly over remaining upperparts, distinctive; a denizen of brushy
or half-open hillsides and fallow fields near heavy cover.
Nesting.— Nest: On the ground, a rather bulky affair of weed-stems, grasses,
and trash, lined with fine grasses or horsehair, and placed in shelter of bush or weed
clump, usually on rocky hillside. Eggs: 4 or 5; short-ovate, or almost oval; pure
white or pale bluish white. Av. size, 18.8 x 15 (.74 x .59). Season: May to July,
but chiefly May; one or two broods.
Taken in San Diego Photo by Donald R. Dickey
NEST AND EGGS OF RUFOUS-CROWNED SPARROW
269
The Rufous-crowned Sparrow
Range of Aimophila ruficeps—Southwestern United States from central Cali-
fornia east to Oklahoma, south to Cape San Lucas and southern Mexico.
Range of A. r. ruficeps.—Resident in the Upper Sonoran life zone of California
west of the Sierras from Marin and Sutter Counties south to the San Pedro Martir
Mountains of Lower California.
Distribution in California.—Locally resident chiefly on open or semi-arid
hillsides, as above. Common on Santa Cruz Island, and found, at least formerly, on
Santa Catalina.
Authorities.—Cassin (A mmodromus ruficeps), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol.
vi., 1852, p. 184 (orig. descr.; Cosumnes R. or Calaveras R.); Sennett, Auk, vol. v., 1888,
p. 40 (synopsis of group); Barlow, Condor, vol. iv., 1902, p. 107 (monograph; habits,
song, nest and eggs, etc.); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 80 (Santa
Barbara Islands; distr., crit.); Todd, Condor, vol. xxiv., 1922, p. 126 (distr., crit.).
THERE IS nothing sinister about the stealthiness of this creeping
Sparrow. He is neither plotting mischief nor playing at hide-and-seek,
and he seems to be so pleasantly absorbed in the interests of his little
world of grass and weeds as to be quite oblivious to scrutiny or impending
danger. There is something so demure, so winsome, so unaffected in his
manner as he steps out into the open a dozen feet away, culls a bug and
dissects it appreciatively, or else hums a half-forgotten song, that pre-
judice is immediately disarmed and thoughts of collector’s envy dismissed.
If the bird notices you at all it is only to bestow a friendly glance, after
which he pursues the even tenor of a way which you are sure embraces
all the beatitudes. In fine, the Rufous-crowned Sparrow must impress
everyone who observes him at all as an amiable and gifted poet of content,
a sort of embodiment of sunshine and solitude and homely cheer.
Few lives are so devoted to the humbler levels. Even the Savanna
Sparrow will go rocketing off through the air when disturbed. But
the Rufous-crown steps about through the grass-stems or tufted
cover of a rocky hillside without ostentation or appearance of effort;
and even when hard-pressed seems to regard flight as unprofessional,
a pitiful and degrading last resort. Yet-as the breeding season approach-
es, the Rufous-crown does not hesitate to explore the upper reaches of
last year’s weed-tops, or to sing from prominent stations on rock or bush.
The song of the Rufous-crown is one of the freshest, most vivacious
and engaging, as well as varied, of all that may be heard upon our south-
ern hillsides. Its vivacity is wren-like. Its minor notes, especially, a
ravishing titter, few few, remind one now of a Bewick, and now of the
Rock Wren, but they are sweeter than either. Its song has the sponta-
neity of a Winter Wren’s, but its volume, duration, and cadence are
rather those of the Lazuli Bunting. My attention was once caught by a
spirited passage-at-arms and pursuit between a Lazuli Bunting and a
270
The Rufous-crowned Sparrow
Brown Towhee, and I passed on, musing upon the ways of Lazulis, when
a song burst forth at my elbow near the roadside. Sult sult zul eb stutz
tuzzuzzu wet, said the voice, and I should have let it pass for the song
of the Lazuli if curiosity had not been provoked by its nearness. There
in a brush-clump not ten feet away sat a Rufous-crowned Sparrow
vigorously delivering himself of the stolen (?) song. Fortunately, the
Lazuli returned presently to defend his honors, and I had ample oppor-
tunity to make a critical comparison of their songs. The resemblance is,
after all, superficial, due rather to the accidental characters before
enumerated than to quality. The Sparrow’s song is more sprightly, more
varied, and of a sharper, more penetrating quality. It is
rather less musical, and it lacks altogether that caressing drawl
which marks the Finch’s effort. A few moments later the
Rufous-crown took a station well up in a eucalyptus tree and
burst forth with great regularity at intervals of ten seconds,
with each “‘performance”’ lasting about one and a half seconds.
The song is so little stereotyped that it contains hints now of
Vesper, now of Lark Sparrow (in the kzlly killy opening
notes), now of Willow Goldfinch (for vivacity), but always,
most of all, of Lazuli Bunting.
On Santa Cruz Island, where I found the birds abundant
in the spring of 1915, I was deceived repeatedly by the
chattering, vivacious, and
wren-like qualities of the
Rufous-crown’s song. Wee
chee chit 1 wit chit 1 wit chit it,
the bird said, all at a breath;
and it may be that there is
an average shade of difference
in the insular song, but Lord
sash ees fin Sopa TBD forbid that the species-hunters
Photo by Donald R. Dickey should get after them on that
RUFOUS-CROWNED SPARROW account. For fear they might,
I will say that prickly pears
are very abundant on Santa Cruz Island, and that
the birds frequent the thickest patches. They are
really very ungetatable, if you please.
If any one supposes that because the Rufous-crown
is a fairly plentiful bird in southwestern California, the nests are common
likewise, then he is entitled to another guess. The discovery of one of
these obscure cradles, sunk flush with the ground on some weed-strewn
hillside, is something of an exploit. Or perhaps it is fairer to say that
271
The Rufous-crowned Sparrow
discovery of a Rufous-crown’s nest is a fortunate accident—a_ bird
flushed at close range, or almost stepped on—for deliberate tracing of the
bird to a nest is all but impossible, owing to the exceeding wariness of
the bird’s approach. Mr. Pemberton has given us one of the best ac-
counts,! that of aset taken in Alameda County. Of the general conditions
obtaining in that locality, the observer says:
“Favored localities are extremely hot, dry, unsheltered hillsides with
southern and western exposures, which harbor a growth of black and gray
sage, and a scattering of white oaks. Vegetable matter being from 88 to
97 per cent of their food, it is necessary that there be an undergrowth of
grasses.
“Colonies are the rule, and the writer found, usually, a dozen pairs in
the confines of a two or three acre hillside. The birds seldom leave the
bushes for the oaks, their favorite perches being the tops of the sage.
During the ante-nuptial season, the birds may be seen on their favorite
perch, giving their peculiar cicada-like song, which has a wonderfully
ventriloquistic power, and is very confusing when one is trying to locate
the bird.”
The nest was found quite by accident by a lay member of Mr.
Pemberton’s party on a steep, grass-covered, oak-shaded hillside. ‘The
nest was a poor affair—simply a few dry grasses were arranged on one
side and part of the bottom of an irregular hole on the edge of a bank
along the side of a small gully. The eggs rested upon the earth, with a
few grasses crossed between, and a small sage sheltered the nest from
the sun.
“The lateness of the date, July 8, 1908, argued well for incubated
eggs, but we were glad to find these perfectly fresh. They were three
in number, glossy white, with no trace of the bluish color spoken of by
some writers, though slightly pink before blowing. The eggs are now
in the writer’s collection, and are prized the most of all the shells to be
found there.”
The record of the occurrence of this species upon the Marysville
Buttes, in Sutter County,2 marks the northernmost extension in the
West of a genus whose members are characteristic of Sonoran uplands as
far south as Costa Rica. The genus Aimophila, as defined by Ridgway,#
embraces fourteen species and twenty-six “‘races,’’ many but not all of
them marked variously by the peculiar ‘‘red hair’’ which is so character-
istic of our California bird. That they are of an ancient stock is evidenced
by the fact that their eggs, so far as known, are either white, or pale
bluish white, the bleaching of a long-drawn evolution.
"1, R. Pemberton in The Condor, Vol. XII., July, 1910, pp. 123-125.
2 Grinnell, Distributional List, p. 123.
3 Birds of North and Middle America, Vol. I., pp. 231-233.
272
The Desert Sparrow
Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce
UPON THE POINT OF FLIGHT
No. 47
Desert Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 573a. Amphispiza bilineata deserticola Ridgway.
Description.—Adult: Crown and nuchal collar, continuous with sides of
breast and upper tail-coverts, neutral gray; hindhead and remaining upperparts
brownish gray, nearly fawn color on middle of back and on wings; a conspicuous white
superciliary stripe bounded narrowly by black above and separated from white malar
stripe (not reaching base of bill) by gray on sides of head; lores, anterior portion of
malar region, chin, throat and chest centrally black, the last-named with convex
posterior outline; remaining underparts white tinged with grayish on sides and flanks;
tail blackish, the outer web of outermost rectrix chiefly white, the inner web with white
spot on tip, second rectrix (sometimes third or even fourth) tipped with white on inner
web. Bill dusky; feet and legs brownish black. Young birds: Like adults but with-
out black pattern of head markings; chin and throat white or flecked with grayish;
breast streaked with same and back faintly streaked with dusky; some buffy edging
on wing. Length of adults about 135.9 (5.35); wing 67 (2.64); tail 64 (2.52); bill 10
(.40); tarsus 19 (.75). Females a little less.
273
The Desert Sparrow
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; grayish coloration; strong white super-
ciliary ; black throat with white trimmings distinctive.
Nesting.— Nest: Placed one or two feet up in sage-brush or other desert plant,
rarely on ground; a sturdy cup of interwoven grasses and plant fibers, lined with
horsehair or other fine material. Eggs: 3 to 5; bluish white, unmarked; av. size 17.2
X 13.3 (.67 x .52). Season: May or June; two broods.
Range of Amphispiza bilineata—Arid plains of western United States west
to Sierra Nevada Mountains, north regularly to northern Nevada, casually to Oregon
(Jewett), and eastern Washington (Douglas County, May 31 to June 6, 1908), east to
western Texas, and south to northern Mexico, and the whole of Lower California.
Range of A. b. deserticolaa—As above, save as delimited by A. b. bilineata,
which occupies the extreme eastern portion of specific range in Texas and northern
Mexico.
Distribution in California.—Summer resident in southeastern California,
especially the fringes of the deserts, north, locally, to White Mountains, Mono Lake,
Susanville (June 4, 1912), and the lower slopes of the Warner Mountains; west casually
in southern portion during migration; one occurrence (possibly a breeding station)
in central northern Kern County west of the divide (Sheldon).
Authorities.—Cooper (Poospiza bilineata), Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 203 (Mohave
R. and Providence Mts.); Fisher, N. Am. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, p. 95 (many Calif.
localities; dates of nesting, etc.); Sheldon, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 172 (Poso Mts.,
Kern Co.); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 82 (occur. in so. Calif.); Grinnell
and Swarth, Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., vol. x., 1913, p. 277 (San Jacinto Mts.; nest and
eggs, etc.).
THE SAGE-BRUSH desert is a thing of uttermost simplicity.
Viewed broadly there is nothing but soil and sage and sunshine. Shelter
there is none, at least for humans. Vegetation is in one kind. One
pervasive scent, that of artemisia, haunts the atmosphere. The sky
itself is a simple void, for clouds have no proper place here; only the
simple wind and sun (at first futile, then benign, then ardent, and then,
alas! how pitiless!). Silence, the dearest simplicity of all, broods over
the desert, yet before its comfort stales, the occasional offerings of some
of the desert’s mild children stand forth in naked, beautiful simplicity.
Modest voices which would be smothered elsewhere, as in the chaos of a
riverside chorus, here speak to eager ears, and bring nourishment to a
heart already rested.
It was thus I heard in the cool gray of a sage-scented morning my
first Desert Sparrow. I had been checking off the scattered numbers
of the desert choir, Brewer Sparrow, Lark Sparrow, Sage Thrasher, and
the rest, when suddenly this fresh voice of inquiry, Blew chee tee tee,
burst from within a stone’s throw. The binoculars were instantly
levelled and their use alternated rapidly with that of note-book and
pencil as the leading features of the stranger’s dress were seized upon in
order of saliency: Black chin and throat with rounded extension on
274
FTV aaa ava arate POF.
DBOODQOOLRGOSOOOO
\
<2 rep 1
PO
“ay ~ - a
a rerer arene erate”,
$
°°
~
COOOO MN
Desert Black-throated Sparrow on Nest
In Opuntia ramosissima
From a photograph by Donald R. Dickey
Taken near Hesperia
The Desert Sparrow
chest outlined against whitish of underparts, and separated from grayish
dusky of cheeks by white malar stripe; lores, apparently including eye,
black; brilliant white superciliary stripe; crown and back warm light
brown. It was a costume of distinction, yet when the stranger’s black
bib was averted he was instantly lost to view in the engulfing neutrals.
Later, a female, scarcely different in appearance, was glimpsed as she
flitted coquettishly from bush to bush, in company with her liege lord;
but the most diligent search failed to discover a nest, 1f such there was.
Nesting was almost certainly upon the gallant’s mind, for he sang at
ianit nt wl
intervals. The
notes of his
brief but musi-
cal offering
had something
of the gushing
and twinkling
quality of a
Western Lark
Sparrow. A
variant form,
whew, whew,
whitterer,
began _ nicely,
but degen-
erated in the
last member
into the metal-
lic clinking of
a Spurred To-
whee. Again,
the opening
notes were
given alone,
whew whew or
chew chew, as
though the
singer sensed
danger and
changed his
Taken in San Bernardino Counly Photo by Wright M. Pierce x
A WELL-GUARDED HOME mind.
275
The Desert Sparrow
Desert Sparrows nest
twice in the season, once
in March or April, and
again in May or June.
Their eggs are purest
white; and the nests are
placed a foot or so above
ground in sage bushes
or, upon the southern
deserts, in yuccas, or
chollas, or young mes-
quites. When surprised
upon the nest, the
female will drop to the
ground and scamper off
with tail uplifted,—con-
spicuous, and intention-
ally so. If the decoy
ruse will not work, the
male tries singing. If
that too fails, there is
really nothing more to
do but to keep out of
harm’s way and let hap-
pen what will. On the
eastern slope of the
Sierras there are great
stretches of sage which
harbor scarcely any
other birds save Desert
Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Donald R. Dickey Sparrows. Here in late
NEST AND EGGS OF DESERT SPARROW IN CHOLLA CACTUS June one may see dozens
of them in a brief walk, mostly family groups,—anxious, flitting mothers
who cannot sit still on a sage bush for two consecutive seconds for worri-
ment, and pudgy little brats with short tails, who fly up valiantly, and
who cannot for the brief lives of them see what mama has to worry about.
In winter the Desert Sparrows retire from their more elevated or
northern ranges, and roam the southern deserts in company with their
kinsmen, the Sage Sparrows. The companies are not large, not over
two or three score usually, but whether at Palm Springs, at Tucson, or in
western Texas, it is an unfailing pleasure to attach yourself to one of them
as member at large, and watch the shifting play of the endless quest.
276 -
auld auoT Avau Uaye
Hoy p ayt dg ydvibopoyd v Woda
‘OSULA IY} JO 19}U9D OVX dy} Ul
sivoadde AsuzYy AA WUNOYY “AMO.L.Iedg }.1989q OY} Jo JUNLY
IPAOAVJ VIAL ‘SVAIDIG IY} JO 9svq IY} 0} AVMY BUIYIII1S SULLY
[RIANT[V dy} sv [Joa sv ‘puNnoAGIIOF 9JVIPIWIUU! YQ Ul Sodojs J.9S9P 9Y T,
SRLIIIG UST OY} pur S| PUeqeTy oy],
The Bell Sparrow
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
SCENE IN THE ALABAMA HILLS
THESE ROCKS ENJOY THE DISTINCTION OF BEING THE OLDEST IN AMERICA
THE LAD IS INSPECTING A DESERT SPARROW’S NEST CONTAINING YOUNG BIRDS
No. 48
Bell’s Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 574. Amphispiza belli (Cassin).
Description.—Adult (sexes alike): Head and neck above and on sides deep
neutral gray, the pileum washed with brownish, and with some dusky shaft-streaks
which increase in numbers on extreme forehead; lores and area around eye, except
above, slaty black; a prolonged submaxillary stripe (not reaching bill) slaty black;
eye-ring, a spot over lore, and malar stripe continuous with chin, white; remaining
upperparts brownish gray or warm hair-brown, the back and scapulars lightly streaked
with blackish; axillars and wing lining narrowly, including edge of wing, yellow; the
coverts and marginings of wing largely wood-brown, the lesser coverts often tinged
with yellow, the middle and greater coverts tipped with brownish buffy, forming two
pale bars; flight-feathers and tail blackish (deepest- black on exposed tertials) and all
2/7
The Bell Sparrow
Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce
BELL SPARROW
more or less margined with wood-brown; sides, flanks, and crissum strongly tinged with
vinaceous buff, all sparingly but strongly streaked with dusky; a black spot on center
of breast; remaining underparts white. Bill bluish dusky above, lighter below; feet
and legs dark brown. Young birds follow rather closely the pattern of parents, but
are duller and are abundantly sharp-streaked with blackish on breast and sides of
breast. Length of adult male about 152.4 (6.00); wing 66.8 (2.63); tail 66.3 (2.61);
bill 9.1 (.36); tarsus 20.6 (.81). Female slightly smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Small sparrow size; sage or low-chaparral-haunting
habits; dark gray coloration above, white below, with black spot (very small) on
breast, and long submalar streaks, like drooping moustachios, of black outlined against
white. Much darker every way than A. nevadensis.
Nesting.— Nest: A sturdy cup composed chiefly of weed-stems and flower
pedicels, and heavily lined with dried flower-heads; placed one or two feet up in sage-
bush or other desert shrub. Eggs: 3 or 4; pale greenish blue, or bluish white, marked
lightly or heavily, sometimes mottled, with reddish brown (cameo brown, testaceous,
onion-skin pink). Av. of 14 eggs in M. C. O. coll.: 18.6 x 14.3 (.73 x .56). Season:
April to June; two broods.
General Range.—Common resident in California, locally, in Upper Sonoran
278
The Bell Sparrow
zone, west of the Sierras and desert divides, north to Marin, Sonoma, Solano, and
Eldorado (at least formerly) counties, south to northwestern portion of Lower Cali-
fornia; occurs on San Clemente, San Nicholas, Santa Rosa, and (probably) Santa
Cruz Islands.
Distribution in California.—As above.
Authorities.—Cassin (Emberiza belli), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. v., 1850,
p. 104, pl. 4 (orig. descr.; Sonoma or San Diego, Calif.) ; Grinnell, Auk, vol. xv., 1898,
p- 58 (crit.); Pierce, Condor, vol. viii., 1906, p. 152 (nesting habits); Grinnell and
Swarth, Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., vol. x., 1913, p. 278 (San Jacinto Mts.; habits); Howell,
Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 79 (San Clemente, San Nicholas, and Santa Rosa
Islands.).
WITH SPECIMENS in hand for comparison the
casual student would suppose that Amphispiza
belli and A. nevadensis might be included
within a single species. Such, indeed, was
the earlier understand-
ing until Grinnell!
pointed out, in 1808,
that the breeding ranges
of the two forms interlap
without resulting inter-
gradation. This dis-
Comey amid) &hxe
subsequent delimitation,
still incomplete, of the
breeding range of A.
nevadensis canescens, has
quite upset our earlier
notions both of the re-
lationships and distribu-
tion of A. belli, so that
we cannot speak dog-
matically at this time.
Dr. Grinnell says of
the Bell Sparrow?2, ““Ad-
heres closely to the
chamisal (Adenostoma fascicu-
Taken in
Riverside
latum) association,’ yet no one County
of my five nests-and-eggs was ep
Author
taken in chamise, and only one
(San Jacinto River, alt. 2200)
1 Auk, Vol. XV., Jan., 1898, p. 58. Seeman
2 Pacific Coast Avifauna, no. 11, 1915, p. 21. NEST AND EGGS OF BELL SPARROW
279
The Bell Sparrow
in the chamisal associa-
tion. Two of these re-
cords were made in the
pure desert association of
the San Fernando Valley,
Opuntia bernardina,
Yucca whipplet, Sambu-
cus glauca, Rhus laurina,
andtherest. Bothnests
were in “broom sage”’
(Artemisia dracuncu-
loides), as also were two
found in eastern San Luis
Obispo County, April 15,
1914, although the latter
may possibly have
marked a heretofore un-
recognized extension of
A. 1. canescens.
The remarkable sit-
uation as regards A. belli
and A. nevadensis invites
hypothesis. The undif-
-ferentiated members of
the original species,
Amphispiza preglacialis,
pushing northward and
westward from a distri-
bution center in Sonora,
invaded southern Cali-
fornia and the Great
Basin region. Later,
becoming isolated by the Sierro-San ice barrier, the form belli evolved,
while its counterpart and erstwhile brother was evicted from California
by the refrigeration of the eastern slopes of the Sierras and the White-
Mountains-Inyo-Desert system. In the reoccupation of this Owens
Valley country a new form, A. n. canescens, has evolved, and this form,
pushing its conquest westward, has stormed the Tehachipe and the bound-
ing barriers of the Mojave Desert, and has spilled over variously into the
Kings-Kern and San Joaquin regions. If this hypothesis be the correct
one, we may expect a steady advance on the part of A. 2. canescens, and
a gradual retirement of the more strongly marked but weaker bell.
250
Pholo by L. Huey and D. R. Dickey
- BELL SPARROW: ADULT WITH YOUNG
Bs]},@ gbsrrom
CsjitoLwis eske pbyrrom
MSAsqs esbe ebsrrom
Dsasre gbhsrrom
The Bell Sparrow
in the chamisal associa-
tion. Two of these re-
cords were made in the
pure desert association of
the San Fernando Valley,
Opuntia bernardina,
Yucca whippler, Sambu-
cus glauca, Rhus laurina,
andthe rest. Bothnests
were in ‘broom sage’’
(Artemisia dracuncu-
loides), as also were two
found in eastern San Luis
Obispo County, April 1,
1914, although the lattd
may possibly hava
marked a heretofore uk
recognized extension a
Aun. CONeSCENS.
The remarkable sit-
uation as regards A. belg
and A, nevadensis invites
hypothesis. The undige
ferentiated members @
the original spegies,
Amphispiza pregigcileg,
pushing northwarel Snel
westward from a Sligo
bution center in Supra,
ai © invaded southern’ (ali-
vand D.R. Dickey fornia and the AC Beat
Basin region. Laer,
becoming isolated by the Sierro-San ice barrier, the form bellz evolved,
while its counterpart and erstwhile brother was evicted from California
by the refrigeration of the eastern slopes of the Sierras and the White-
Mountains-Inyo-Desert system. In the reoccupation of this Owens
Valley country a new form, 4. m. canescens, has evolved, and this form,
pushing its conquest westward, has stormed the Tehachipe and the bound-
ing barriers of the Mojave Desert, and has spilled over variously into the
Kings-Kern and San Joaquin regions, If this hypothesis be the correct
one, we may expect a steady advance on the part of A. nm. canescens, and
a gradual retirement af the more strongly marked but weaker belli.
if
fl
d Pholo by L. tWuey
BELL SPARROW: ADULT WITH YOUNG
280
YA et
ne
Y cer
am, a
NG i eee
ae }
x ae A
PCG che aie
; “ « i r ee ees? i
= 4 ee if fist as 4
y a 7. {
ta
Ev6s
coors ~VI)I2
The Sage Sparrows
Bell’s Sparrow is probably not strictly sedentary, but neither is
it migrant. Local breeders form winter companies and rove more or
less, but how much or whither, we have no means of knowing. Mr.
Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce
A HUMBLE HOME
Stephens (MS) thinks that all individuals move southward some distance
in winter. Such a roving company I found in January, 1913, upon the
summit of the Santa Ynez range near Santa Barbara. What with the
dark coloring and the glint of white on the edge of the lateral tail feathers,
I took them for Juncoes at first, and this impression was heightened by
their constant use of the tittering, or ““banner’’ note, so characteristic
of Junco hyemalis.
No. 49
Nevada Sage Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 574.4. Amphispiza nevadensis nevadensis Ridgway.
Synonyms.—ARrTEMISIA SPARROW. SAGE SPARROW.
Description.—Similar to Amphispiza belli, but much lighter in every respect;
the head pattern partially obliterated, and the dusky streakings of back sharper and
more numerous. Adults: Head and neck above and on sides neutral gray, washed
lightly with drab and touched on forehead with converging streaks of dusky; remaining
upperparts drab (light brownish gray), sharply marked on back and scapulars with
brownish dusky; pattern of wings as in preceding species, but all markings lighter;
axillars and edge of wing pale yellowish white; the lesser coverts also sometimes tinged
with yellowish; outer web and tip of outermost tail-feather white; a supraloral spot,
an orbital ring, and (usually) a short median line on forehead white; sides of head
slaty gray; lores dusky; underparts white, clearest on throat, where bounded and set
off from white of malar area by interrupted chain of dusky streaks; occasionally with
281
The Sage Sparrows
dusky spot on center of breast; washed on sides and flanks and crissum with buffy,
and streaked on sides but not on crissum with dusky. Bill blackish above, lighter
below; legs dark brown, toes darker; iris brown. Young: ‘‘Pileum, hind-neck,
chest and sides, as well as back, streaked with dusky; otherwise essentially as in adults”’
(Ridgway). Underparts save on throat sometimes tinged with yellowish or buffy.
Length of adult male about 152.4 (6.00); wing 80 (3.15); tail 81 (3.19); bill ro (.39);
tarsus 21.5 (.846). Females a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size (barely); ashy gray or light drab plumage;
white throat partially defined by dusky streaks; dusky, white and gray pattern of
head.
Nesting.—As in preceding species.
Range of Amphispiza nevadensis——Breeding in sage-brush plains of western
United States from central Washington, Idaho, and Wyoming south to southern
Colorado, south central California, and (A. n. cinerea) Lower California; wintering
south from southeastern California, southern Nevada, and southern Utah to south-
western Texas and Chihuahua.
Note.—If A. n. cinerea of Lower California really occupies the isolated area
assigned to it by the A. O. U. Check-List (3rd Edition), i. e., ‘‘West coast of Lower
California from Santo Domingo to Ballenas Bay,’’ it must either relate itself to A. bella
and stand as A. belli cinerea, or else assume full specific rank as Amphispiza cinerea.
Range of A. 1. nevadensis.—As above, save as delimited by A. . canescens in
south central California and A. 7. cinerea in Lower California.
Distribution in California.—Breeding in the Artemisia (tridentata) east of
the Sierras from the Surprise Valley south to Mono Lake and in the desert ranges
southwest of Owens Valley.
Authorities.—Henshaw, Rep. Orn. Spec. Wheeler’s Surv., 1876, p. 243 (IXern-
ville); Johnson, Zoe, vol. ii., 1891, p. 22 (crit.); Fisher, N. Am. Fauna, no. 7, 1893,
p. 96, part (many Calif. localities); Grinnell, Auk, vol. xv., 1898, p. 58 (crit.); Taylor,
Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., vol. vii., 1912, p. 397 (Nevada; habits, nest and eggs).
No. 49a California Sage Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 574.1b. Amphispiza nevadensis canescens Grinnell.
Description.—Similar to A. 1. nevadensis, but size slightly less and coloration
somewhat darker—thus approaching A. belli in character. Length of wing 71 (2.8);
tail 77 (3.04).
Range of A. n. canescens—Common in summer in the Upper Sonoran belt of
sage-brush along the mountains encircling the south end of the San Joaquin Valley:
Piute Mountains and Mt. Pinos; west rim of Owens Valley on Lone Pine Creek and
near Owens Lake; vicinity of Walker’s Pass; near Bakersfield and McKittrick, Kern
County, and on Carrizo Plains, San Luis Obispo County; south to east slope of San
Bernardino Mountains, and north to west side of Tulare Lake (Grinnell). Occurs
in winter on the southeastern deserts to the Colorado River (Potholes, Feb. 11, 1913),
north to Fresno County, west to San Diegan district (San Fernando Valley, etc.).
Authorities.—Fisher (A mphispiza belli nevadensis), N. Am. Fauna, no. 7, 1893,
p. 96, part (Calif. localities; crit.) ; Grinnell, Condor, vol. vii., 1905, p. 18 (orig. descr.;
Mt. Pinos); Auk, vol. xxii., 1905, p. 387 (Mt. Pinos; habits, crit.); Swarth, Condor, vol.
xli., 1910, p. 108 (Riverside; crit.); zbid., Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 163 (Carrizo
Plain, breeding).
282
The Sage Sparrows
THANK God for the sage-brush! It is not merely that it clothes
the desert and makes its wastes less arid. No one needs to apologize for
the unclad open, or to shun it as though it were an unclean thing. Only
little souls do this,—those who, being used to small spaces, miss the sup-
port of crowding elbows, and are frightened into peevish complaint when
asked tostand alone. Tothe manly spirit there is exultation in mere space.
The ground were enough, the mere Expanse, with the ever-matching
blue of the hopeful sky, but when to this is added the homely verdure of
the untilled ground, the
cup of joy is filled. One
snatches at the sage as
though it were the sym-
bol of all the wild open-
ness, and buries his
nostrils in its pungent
branches to compass at
a whiff this realm of
unpent gladness. Prosy?
Monotonous? Faugh!
Back to the city with
you! You are not fit for
the wilderness unless
you love its very worm-
wood.
The sage has interest
or not, to be sure, ac-
cording to the level from which it is viewed. Regarded from the super-
cilious level of the man-on-horseback, it is a mere hindrance to the pursuit
of the erring steer. The man a-foot has some dim perception of its
beauties, but if his errand is a long one he, too, wearies of his devious
course. Those who are best of all fitted to appreciate its infinite variety
of gnarled branch and velvet leaf, and to revel in its small mysteries, are
simple folk,—rabbits, lizards, and a few birds who have chosen it for
their life portion. Of these, some look up to it as to the trees of an ancient
forest and are lost in its mazes; but of those who know it from the ground
up, none is more loyal than the Sage Sparrow. Whether he gathers a
breakfast, strewn upon the ground, among the red, white, and blue, of
stork-bill, chickweed, and fairy-mint, or whether he explores the crevices
of the twisted sage itself for its store of shrinking beetles, his soul is filled
with a vast content.
Here, in the springtime, he soon gets full enough for utterance, and
mounts the topmost sprig of a sage bush to voice his thanks. In general
Taken in Washington Paoto by the Author
SAGE SPARROW ON NEST
283
The Sage Sparrows
character the song is a sort of subdued musical croaking, mellow and
rich at close quarters, but with little carrying power. The bird throws
his head well back in singing, and the tail is carried more nearly horizontal
than is the case with most Sparrows. A song from a northern station
ran: Heo, chip'peway, chip’ peway, chip'peway, but a more common type
is Tup, tup, to weely, chup, tup. A pretentious ditty, occupying two
seconds in delivery, runs Hooriedoppety, weeter wee, doodlety pootat'er,—
an ecstacy song, wherein the little singer seems to be intoxicated with
the aroma of his favorite sage.
One may search a long time in the neighborhood of the singer—
who, by the way, closes the concert abruptly when he realizes that he
is likely to give his secret away—before finding the humble domicile
a foot or two up in a sage bush. A nest which contained five eggs was
composed externally of sage twigs set into a concealed crotch of the
bush, but the bulk of it consisted of weed-bark and ‘“hemp”’ of a quite
uniform quality; while the lining contained tufts of wool, rabbit-fur,
cow-hair, feathers, and a few coiled horse-hairs. The feathers were
procured at some distant ranch, and their soft tips were gracefully
upturned to further the concealment of the eggs, already well protected
by their grayish green tints.
Another nest, sighted some forty paces away, contained one egg,
and we had high hopes of being able to secure photographs of one of
the prospects (not to mention the eggs themselves) upon our return
with the camera. But a few rods further we came upon a crew of sneak-
ing Magpies, scouring the sage with a dozen beady eyes, and passing
sneering or vulgarly jocose remarks upon what they found. When
we returned, therefore, a day or two later, we were not surprised to
learn that the feathered marauders had preferred egg-in-the-bill to
souvenir photographs.
Bird-nesting is a heartless business. Its devotees become hardened
by practice, although the ends doubtless do justify the means in the
case of a few serious investigators. But now and then confiding trust
wins over you, and despoils you of a coveted take—especially if you area
bird-photographer. Last Sunday—May 31, 1908, it was—I came upon a
cunning home in a sage bush on the hillside just back of camp. It was
empty, but manifestly awaiting the finishing touches, a few more trim
feathers, to fit it for occupancy. Four days later the nest held three eggs,
and the day following four, with the mother bird sitting tight. In fact, she
was very loth to leave, and let me put my face within a foot or so of her be-
fore stealing off softly. This aroused the photographer in me and made
the odlogist groan, for I had been this road before, and foresaw a contest
of courtesy instead of oval treasures much needed by a certain museum.
284
The Sage Sparrows
Photo by the Author
Taken in San Luts Obispo County
NESTING HAUNT OF THE BELL SPARROW
PERFECTLY TYPICAL ALSO OF THE SAGE SPARROW’'S RANGE
Three days later I returned with the Graflex and took snap-shots at
five feet. The day following I came with the Premo, straddling legs,
flapping cover-cloth and all, and I made the little mother a promise. If
she will sit for her portrait at the Premo limit of two feet, | will not touch
her eggs. Agreed! She allows me to make all but the final adjustments
without leaving her eggs. Finally, however, the strain becomes a little
too great, and she slips off, but only to stand at six inches remove on the
same bush. She holds her ground, too, when I snip away some twigs
which obstruct the view, only craning her head and standing on tiptoe to
see what I am about. Upon my retiring she immediately returns to her
charge, and I am able to photograph her twice at two feet, using only
the ordinary bulb. What extraordinary courage! What an over-
mastering power is this mother love! Here am I a hulking six-footer,
backed by engines of unguessed potency, towering over a bit of a bird
whose very heart is no bigger than the end of my little finger. She is
free to fly, but she flies not. Her place is here, and here will she stick
though the heavens fall!
285
The Slate-colored Junco
Two days later I return and find the mistress absent. Secret hope,
I confess, mingles with real solicitude for the absentee, for those eggs
are of a particularly handsome tint of pale artemisia green, speckled
and irregularly spotted, chiefly about the larger end, with lavender and
purple. Who will deliver me from this temptation! Ah, here she comes
again, tripping daintily from twig to twig, taking her place and resuming
her task as complacently as though there were no strange passions abroad.
Again and again she sits patiently while shutters click and plate-holders
are flourished. We will have photographs anyhow. If she quits the
eggs to stretch now and then, she never leaves the nesting bush, even
while I am rearranging the tripod. The male at no time appears, al-
though I hear him singing in the distance. He, too, trusts this very capable
little person to ‘‘manage.”’
My little Sage Sparrow was faithful to the last. Time came to
break camp, and I could not wait to see the babies hatch. But I went to
say goodbye to the mother, and she let me put my face right down within
a foot of hers. I was her good giant and she feared me never a whit. A
flood of soft talk sprang to my lips. I could not restrain it, penitence,
congratulation, and an infinite yearning. Why cannot all of life be like
this—sacrifice, fidelity and uprightness! Perhaps one day we shall—
understand—each other.
No. 50
Slate-colored Junco
A. O. U. No. 567. Junco hyemalis hyemalis (Linnaeus).
Synonyms.—EASTERN JUNCO. SNOWBIRD.
Description.—Adult male in spring: General color slaty black (or dusky
neutral gray); middle breast, belly and crissum white, abruptly contrasting with
slaty of upper breast (which has a concave outline by reason of the continuation of
slaty on sides), shading on sides; wings and tail deeper slaty black; the two outer pairs
of rectrices wholly white, the succeeding pair extensively white, or not, centrally on
distal portion of inner web. Bill pinkish white, narrowly tipped with dusky; iris dark
reddish brown or purplish; legs light brown, feet darker. Adult male in fall and winter:
As in spring, but upper parts lightly washed with reddish brown; the sides and some-
times the throat lightly veiled with buffy. Immature males are still more heavily
veiled, with snuff-brown or light bister above, with buffy below, and with a cloudy
buffy suffusion of the under whites. Adult female: Like adult male, but slaty lighter
and duller, usually with slight veiling by brownish above and buffy below; the accession
by brownish is correspondingly greater in autumn; and immature females are still
more extensively brown. Young birds are drab above with blackish streaking, and
256
The Slate-colored Junco
heavily streaked below on a dull buffy ground. Length of adult male, 152.4-165
(6.00-6.50); wing 79 (3.11); tail 66 (2.60); bill 10.9 (.43); tarsus 21 (.83). Females
average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; nearly uniform slaty coloration; concave-
ended outline of pectoral slate in contrast with white of underparts; does not show
contrast between head and back, as compared with the Junco oreganus group.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest and eggs much as in succeeding
species.
General Range.—Eastern and northern North America, breeding from the
mountains of Pennsylvania and Massachusetts and the northern tier of states west
to Minnesota, north to Labrador, the Arctic Coast and the valleys of the Yukon and
Kowak River in Alaska; south in winter throughout the eastern states to the Gulf
Coast, and casually to New Mexico, Arizona, and California.
Occurrence in California.—A casual winter visitant practically throughout
the State, but chiefly on the lower mountain ranges,
Authorities.—Jeffries, Auk, vol. vi., 1889, p. 221 (Santa Barbara); Bishop,
N. Am. Fauna, no. 19, 1900, p. 85 (Alaska; nests and eggs, habits, etc.); Judd, U. S.
Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 15, 1901, p. 80 (food); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna,
no. 7, 1912, p. 81 (occur. in so. Calif.) ; Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p.
119 (summary of occurrences in Calif.); Dwight, Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., vol. xxxviii.,
1918, p. 285, col. pls. (distr., variation, crit.).
SO FATAL is the human tendency to generalize that most of us
think of the Pacific Coast of North America as a north and south line,
and recall Alaska vaguely as somewhere to the north of us. Yet St.
Michael, at the mouth of the Yukon, is west of Honolulu; and a Slate-
colored Junco raised on the Seward Peninsula would have to travel due
east at least forty degrees (and a trifle of twenty-three degrees south)
in order to winter as far east as California. What wonder, then, that
of the great bulk of Alaskan Snow-birds, pursuing in autumn a leisurely
east by southeasterly course for the eastern states, a few should become
deflected to the southward too soon! Anyhow, this happens so often
that we have given up trying to keep count of the ‘“‘winter occurrences”
of the Slate-colored Junco.
Juncoes are highly sociable creatures, especially in winter. Other
migrants afford congenial company; and the birds do not make as big
a fuss over a different shade of color of the foreparts as we do. It is
noticeable, therefore, that most of the northern Juncoes seen occur
either singly or in small groups, in company with the California thurbert.
There is nothing in behavior and little enough in appearance to dis-
tinguish the two forms; and there are, doubtless, a thousand unnoticed
birds in the State to one that catches the eye of a practiced bird-man.
287
The Oregon Juncoes
No. 51
Oregon Junco
A. O: U. No. 567a. Junco oreganus oreganus (Townsend).
Synonyms.—“‘OREGAN SNOW-FINCH.”’ WESTERN SNOW-BIRD. OREGON SNOW-
BIRD. TOWNSEND'S JUNCO.
Description.—Adult male: Head and neck all around and chest (abruptly
defined along convex posterior edge) sooty black; back abruptly and scapulars and
edging of tertials warm reddish brown (between Prout’s brown and _ snuff-brown);
rump, upper tail-coverts, lesser wing-coverts, and tips of greater coverts, slaty gray
or deep neutral gray, sometimes glossed with olivaceous; wings and tail dusky, edged
with ashy; the outermost rectrix wholly and the second chiefly white, the third pair
more or less white centrally near tip; sides of breast, sides, and flanks strongly washed
with pinkish brown (fawn-color or vinaceous fawn); remaining underparts (below
chest) white. Bill pinkish white with dusky tip; iris claret-red; feet and legs pale
brown. Immature male: Like adult, but brown of upperparts redder (walnut-brown
to natal brown); hindhead and nape with skirtings of the same color; the sides more
strongly tinged with fawn-color; the black of chest slightly skirted with whitish. Adult
female: Like adult male but black of foreparts much duller,—more grayish or slaty;
the red of back slightly browner; hindhead and nape more or less veiled or mingled
with color of back, thus decreasing the contrast; sides less extensively washed with
pinkish brown; a slight reduction of white in tail. Immature female: Like adult
female, but contrast of foreparts still further reduced; distinction between head and
back obliterated by reddish brown veiling; tone of upperparts slightly more grayish
(dark Rood’s brown); the grayish black of throat and chest further veiled by pale
vinaceous fawn. Young birds are pale reddish brown above and yellowish buffy
(more sordid on chest) below everywhere, save on throat, belly and crissum finely
streaked with dusky. Length of adult male about 161.3 (6.35); wing 75 (2.95); tail
65 (2.56); bill 11 (.43); tarsus 21 (.83). Female smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; black of head and throat contrasting
with white of breast; sides pinkish brown; white lateral tail-feathers; head black as
compared with J. hyemalis; back reddish brown as compared with J. o. shufeldtt.
Nesting.— Does not breed in California. Nest and eggs asin J. 0. thurbert.
Range of Junco oreganus.—Pacific coastal regions of western North America,
breeding from Yakutat Bay, Alaska, south to Lower California, east to west central
Alberta (couesi); winters irregularly southward and eastward (couesz) or at lower levels.
Range of J. 0. oreganus.—The northern coastal representative now breeds from
Yakutat Bay, Alaska, south to the Queen Charlotte Islands, and winters irregularly
southward along the coast to Santa Cruz Island, or casually east of the Sierra-Cascade
divide.
Occurrence in California.—Winter visitant west of the Sierras, regularly to
San Francisco Bay region, casually to Santa Cruz Island.
Authorities.—Newberry (Struthus oregonus), Rep. Pac. R. R. Sury., vol. vi.,
pt. iv., 1857, p. 88, part (San Francisco); Bryant, W. E., Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci., 2nd
ser., Vol. i., 1888, p. 47 (Farallons) ; Chapman, Auk, vol. viii., 1891, p. 115 (crit.); Dwight,
Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., vol. xxxviii., 1918, p. 291, col. pls. (distr., variation, crit.) ;
Swarth, Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., vol. x., 1912, p. 59 (Vancouver Id.; habits, crit.).
288
The Oregon Juncoes
No. 51a Coues’s Junco
A. O. U. No. 567b. Junco oreganus couesi Dwight.
Synonyms.—WaAsSHINGTON JuNCO. HyBRID SNOW-BIRD (Coues). Rocky
Mountain Junco (Coues). SHUFELDT’S JUNCO.
Description.—Adults: Similar to J. 0. oreganus, but back (in males) less
rufescent, more grayish (pale olive-brown to dull army-brown); in females snuff-
brown; black of head and throat a little more slaty; also averaging larger. Length
152.4-165 (6.00-6.50); wing 80 (3.15); tail 69 (2.72); bill 11 (.43); tarsus 21 (.83).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; black of head and throat contrasting with
brownish gray of back and with white of breast; grayer on back than preceding.
Range of J. 0. couest (as defined by A. O. U. Committee under name Junco
hyemalis connectens)—Rocky Mountain region, breeding from coast of southern
British Columbia, east to west central Alberta, and south to northern Oregon; win-
tering over entire Rocky Mountain tableland to eastern Colorado, Arizona, New
Mexico, western Texas, Chihuahua and Sonora. Casual in northern Lower California.
Occurrence in California.—See general discussion below.
THE CASE of our northwestern wintering Juncoes is involved in
notable confusion. All depends upon definition of the summer ranges of
the three related forms, oreganus, couest, and thurbert.
There is least question regarding oreganus, for that subspecies now
breeds entirely north of the United States, probably no further south
than the Queen Charlotte Islands; and its contributions to the winter
population of northern California are perfectly manifest by reason of the
decided rufous of their backs.
But the case of couwest is more involved. As now defined by the
A. O.U. committee (Check-List, 3rd Edition, 1910) cowesz (formerly named
connectens) includes not only the breeding birds of the Rocky Mountains
in eastern British Columbia, but also those of Vancouver Island and
Puget Sound. Either this is correct, or the Puget Sound specimens
represent a northward extension of thurbert, or else they deserve recog-
nition as a separate subspecies. In any event, these Puget Sound and
southern British Columbia breeders must winter more or less in northern
California; for they largely forsake their summer home, and their place
is taken by oreganus. If, however, these southern winter-taken speci-
mens of hypothetical cowest are not actually separable from thurbert,
we shall have to restrict the range of cowesz to the northern interior, and
recognize an enormous northwestern extension of thurberi.
The situation has probably been complicated by recent rapid move-
ments in the case of all these forms. Orveganus, at least, was the recog-
nized breeding bird of Puget Sound no later than 1903.
We have here an indubitable instance of that northward trend of
species clearly recognizable in the East, but obscured to our vision in
289
The Oregon Juncoes
the West by reason of varied
conditions and insufficient
data. The theory is that
wee une birds “are
still following
the retreat of
the glacial ice.
We know that
the glacial ice-
sheet, now
confined to
Greenland
and the high
North, once
covered half
the continent.
In our own
mountains we
see the ves-
tigial traces of
glaciers which
were once of
noble propor-
tions. We
know that the
southward
advance of the
continental ice-sheet must have driven all animal life” before it; and, like-
wise, that the territory since relinquished by the ice has been regained by
the animals. What more natural than that we should witness through
close observation the northward advance of those varieties of birds which
are best suited to withstand cold, and the corresponding occupation of
abandoned territory on the part of those next south?
Juncoes, moreover, are erratic in their migrations; and in the West,
at least, tend to become non-migratory. While Oregon Juncoes are the
common winter birds of Puget Sound, Coues’ (or Thurber’s) are not
entirely absent at this season, and we may even look to see them presently
hold their own throughout the year. The problem is further complicated
by what we call vertical migration, by which is meant that mountain
birds descend to the valleys in winter, instead of flying southward.
Winter ‘“‘couesz,’’ therefore, may or may not be strictly resident at, say,
Camp Lewis, near Tacoma. The summer birds of that region may be
Oa}
2]
|
i
|
Taken"in Washington
Photo"by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF COUES JUNCO
290
|
the West by reason of varied
conditions and insufficient
data. The theory is that
the birds are
still following
the retreat of
the glacial ice.
We know that
the glacial ice-
sheet, now
confined to
Greenland
and the high
North, once
covered half
the continent.
In our own
mountains we
see the ves-
tigial traces of
glaciers which
were once of
noble propor-
tions: 2 We
know that the
southward
i advance of the
continental ice-sheet must have driven all animal life’ before it; and, like-
wise, that the territory since relinquished by the ice has been regained by
the animals. What more natural than that we should witness through
close observation the northward advance of those varieties of birds which
are best suited to withstand cold, and the corresponding occupation of
abandoned territory on the part of those next south?
Juncoes, moreover, are erratic in their migrations; and in the West,
a4 feast, tent! to become non-migratory. While Oregon Juncoes are the
: Sound, Coues’ (or Thurber’s) are not
is Season, amd we may even look to see them presently
NEST AND EGGS OF COUES JUNCO
winter birds of -P
(havay at
3 vue The problem is further complicated
we call on, by which is meant that mountain
inven descend <q the eallevs in winter, instead of flying southward.
Winter “cess” theeefure, exay or may not be strictly resident at, say,
emp leu, daar Tacoma. Phe summer birds of that region may be
ats ee ad
The Oregon Juncoes
the ones which retire to our borders; while the wintering birds may have
descended from the Olympics or from Mount Rainier.
No. 51b Sierra Junco
A. O. U. No. 567c. Junco oreganus thurberi Anthony.
Synonyms.—THURBER’S JUNCO. CALIFORNIA SNOW-BIRD.
Description.—Aduli male: Similar to J. 0. cowesi, but head, neck, and chest,
blacker; i.e., of recovered intensity, practically as black as J. 0. oreganus; sides much
paler, avellaneous to vinaceous-buff. Adult females: In mature examples closely
approximating the colors of adult males; black of foreparts only a shade less intense;
back a little more rufescent and a shade lighter. Young birds: Like those of J. o.
oreganus but lighter and grayer above, and never yellowish buffy below, palest pinkish
buff instead. Length of adult male (after Ridgway): 135-151 (5.32-5.95); wing 78
(3.07); tail 65.3 (2.57); bill 10.7 (.42); tarsus 20 (.79). Females: wing 72.9 (2.87); tail
62.2 (2.45); bill 10.7 (.42); tarsus 20.3 (.80).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; head, neck, and chest black; convex out-
line of chest contrasting with white of breast and light pinkish of sides; the commonest
form.
Nesting.— Nest: On the ground, sunk flush, or not; often deeply recessed on
side hill, or else under protection of low shrubbery; a sturdy cup with walls an inch or
more in thickness, wrought externally of mosses, weed-stems, and dried grasses, and
lined with fine, light-colored grasses, or horsehair where obtainable. Eggs: 3 to 5;
ground-color white tinged with pinkish, greenish, or bluish, speckled or spotted, broadly
or narrowly, rarely mottled or clouded with reddish brown or vinaceous. Av. size
19.8 x 15.2 (.78 x .60). Season: May-July; two broods.
Range of J. o. thurberi—Chiefly the mountains of California, but breeds from
an undetermined area in Oregon south to the Laguna Hansen Mountains of Lower
California; in winter found at lower levels, and casually east to Arizona.
Distribution in California.—A summer resident of Transition and Boreal
zones throughout the State, save in the Monterey section, where replaced by J. o.
pinosus. An irregular breeder at intermediate levels (e. g. Santa Margarita—Swarth);
and a casual breeder at lower levels (Stanford University—Snyder; Berkeley—Wy the).
In winter found at all lower levels including the deserts (sparingly) and the Channel
Islands.
Authorities.—Newberry (Struthus oregonus), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. iv.,
1857, p. 88, part (n. California in summer); Anthony, Zoe, vol. i, October, 1890, p. 238
(Wilson’s Peak; orig. desc.); Kaeding, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 80
(Calif. ; distr., habits, crit.) ; Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1908, p. 95 (habits,
desc. nests and eggs, etc.); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, p. 82
(food); Dwight, Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., vol. xxxviii., 1918, p. 291, col. pl. (distr.,
variation, crit.).
ONE’S FIRST encounter with Junco in the Southland is likely to
take place on some little oak-sprinkled ridge, the coolest of that section.
First one bird, then another, will quit the ground, most unexpectedly to
you, and take refuge in a live oak tree. It’s a game of hide-and-seek
henceforth with you for “‘it,’’ unless you resolutely sit down and efface
2901
Taken in Fresno County
The Oregon Juncoes
yourself until such time as the birds are ready to
play a game of their own choosing.
There is a jovial restlessness about these
birds in flock which is contagious. Their
every movement is accompanied by a
happy titter, and the pursuit of neces-
sities is never so stern that a saucy
dare from one of their number will
not send the whole company off pell-
mell like a rout of school-boys.
Whenever a Junco starts to wing, it
flashes a white signal in the lateral
tail-feathers; and this convenient
“recognition mark”’ enables the birds
to keep track of each other through-
out the maddest gambols in brush-lot
or tree-top.
In the early days of March the
Juncoes gather now and again for a
grand concert. The males mount
the bush-tops and hold forth in rival
strains, while the females lurk under
cover and take counsel of their
hearts. Junco’s song is a sweet
little tinkling trill, not very preten-
: tious, but tender and winsome.
a Interspersed with this is a variety of
sipping and suckling notes, whose
SIERRA JUNCO, FEMALE Photo by the Author 1365 are hard to discern. Now and
THIS IS THE MOTHER OF THE ‘‘PHOTOPHOBIC”’ INFANTS then, also, a forcible kissing sound
DESCRIBED IN THE TEXT
may be heard, evidently a note of
repulsion instead of attraction, for it is employed in the breeding season
to frighten enemies. During the progress of the concert some dashing
young fellow, unable fully to express his emotion in song, runs amuck,
and goes charging about through the woodsy mazes in a fine frenzy—
without, however, quite spilling his brains. Others catch the excitement
and the company breaks up in a mad whirl of amorous pursuit.
But before the songs are altogether sung out, or “‘life’s great de-
cision’”’ made, the companies begin to climb the hillsides. Up, up they
will go with the ascending season, so that Junco’s year may be appro-
priately described as mountain climbing. Now and again a pair will
pause, marriage can no longer be deferred; or else the coolness of a suitable
292
The Oregon Juncoes
locality betrays them into a belief that they are high enough for happi-
ness. So we have chance nestings at Stanford University! or Cazadero.?
But the bulk of the species ascends until the upper Transition levels of
the higher mountains are reached. A pause is made here for nesting,
while the hardier individuals push on for the higher levels. Not im-
possibly, nesting is conducted at two levels by the same pair of birds,
6000-8000 in May, 8000-11000 in June or July. And when the last
brood of babies is raised, the whole family goes climbing in good earnest.
It is a heartening sight to one sitting on the crest of a radiating ridge,
as at timberline on Shasta, to see the happy Juncoes go trouping by,
brood after brood, for forage on the upper levels, or wherever the least
green thing will grow.
Juncoes are rigeopathic, or cold-loving, by the same token that
they are photophobic. I had a curious illustration of this in an experi-
ment conducted at the Simpson Meadows on the Middle Fork of the
King’s River (alt. 6500). A nest had been found in an unusually exposed
situation; viz., on the level ground with only the protection of scattered
1W. K. Fisher, Condor, Vol. VI., 1904, p. 108.
2 Joseph Mailliard, Condor, Vol. X., 1908, p. 133.
Taken in Inyo County
Photo by the Author
NESTING SITE OF SIERRA JUNCO,
NEAR “BUGHUNTERS’ CAMP”
(Alt. 10,000).
to
G
The Oregon Juncoes
herbage, instead of the customary deep shade of the forest. In order,
if possible, to catch the female brooding in full light, I cut away or tied
down all the surrounding foliage which would cast a shadow. The sun
was warm but not to say hot. The result, however, was that the mother
bird flushed at the earliest provocation, and the babies, not nearly half
grown, were left momentarily to suffer. Finally, the most forward of the
brood (of three) made a determined effort to better his condition, and, to
my amazement, scrambled up the side of the nest and boldly over. I
Taken in Modoc County Photo by the Author
A NESTING SITE IN THE WARNER MOUNTAINS
CONTAINS NEST SHOWN IN SUCCEEDING CUT
replaced him and stood back to photograph a possible repetition of the
act. This was promptly forthcoming. The youngster scrambled up
again and tumbled over the brim of the nest, and lay helplessly kicking,
for it was unusually high above the ground. Of course I promptly took
pity on them and provided shade. But these youngsters were still almost
naked, and this precocious determination to attain shade or liberty, or
both, was, I insist, most amazing.
The variety and interest of Junco’s nesting habits are scarcely
exceeded by those of any other bird. In general, the birds appear to be
204
: '
The Oregon Juncoes
Taken in Modoc County Photo by the Author
A FULL CRADLE
guided by some thought of seclusion or protection in their choice of nesting
sites. Steep hillsides or little banks are, therefore, favorite places, for
here the bird may excavate a cool grotto in the earth, and allow the
drapery of the hillside,—mosses and running vines, to festoon and guard
the approaches. In the foothills the upper banks of road-cuttings are
frequently occupied, while in mountain meadows I have seen haystacks
in whose disheveled sides the Juncoes sheltered their young. In default
of suitable banks the birds will trust themselves to the density of vege-
tation in unmowed orchards, weed-lots, and meadows. Brush-piles
afford coveted shelter, as well as small patches of mountain sage, a shaded
stretch of heather, or even an accumulation of pine needles upon the
ground. Once I found a bird which occupied a carefully chosen fern
arbor in the midst of a collection of whitened bones, evidently the mortal
remains of a defunct horse. The situation was delightfully gruesome,
and, touched no doubt with vanity, the owner sat for her portrait at
four feet, a la Bernhardt.
Juncoes keep very quiet during the nesting season until disturbed,
295
The Oregon Juncoes
and they are very close sitters. When nearly stepped on the bird bursts
off, and if there are young, crawls and tumbles along the ground within a
few feet of the intruder, displaying wings and tail in a most appealing
manner. The ¢tssizks of both birds are incessantly repeated and the whole
woodside is set agog with apprehension.
If one posts himself in a suspected locality not too near the nest, it
is only a question of time till the solicitude of the nursing mother will
Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce
A NEST FROM THE SAN BERNARDINOS
triumph over fear. One such I traced to a charming mossy bank, over-
looking a woodland pool; but on the first occasion it took the parent bird
exactly half an hour to go through all the feints and preliminaries before
she ventured on the final plunge. There were half-grown babies in this
nest, and since we were in summer camp (at Glacier, near the foot of
Mt. Baker), I resolved to make friends of this promising family with a
view to portraiture.
As I sat next day watching my Juncoes, and waiting for the sun to get
around and light up the vicinity of the nest, the call to dinner sounded.
290
The Oregon Juncoes
The mother bird, not without much misgiving and remonstrance, had just
visited her babies, so I rose to go; but as I did so, caught sight of a stout
garter snake, who lay watching the scene from a distance of fully twenty
feet, a wicked gleam of intelligence in his eye. With quick suspicion of
his purpose, I seized stones and hurled at his retreating form; but the
ground was rough and he managed to escape into a large brush-pile. At
table I ate hurriedly, listening the while for the faintest note of trouble.
When it came, a quick outcry from both parents, instead of premonitory
notes of discovery, I sprang to my feet, clutched a stick, and rushed down
to the spring. Alas for us! Satan had found our Eden! The nest was
emptied and the snake lay coiled over it in the act of swallowing one of
the little birds. Not daring to strike, I seized him by the throat and re-
leased the baby Junco, whose rump only had disappeared into the devour-
ing jaws. Then with the stick I made snake’s-head jelly on a rock and
flung the loathsome reptile away. But it was all too late. One young
bird lay drowned upon the bottom of the pool, and the other (I think
there were only two) soon died of fright and the laceration of the hinder
parts attendant upon ophidian deglutition. It was all so horrible! the
malignant plan, the stealthy approach, the sudden alarm, the wanton
destruction of the fledglings, the grief of the agonized parents, the remorse
of the helper who came too late! Is it any wonder that our forebears have
pictured the arch-enemy as a serpent?
The Sierra Junco in California deserves to be called the Sierra Club
bird. On the annual pilgrimage of its members this famous organization
of mountaineers move about in a perfect halo of disturbed and protesting
Juncoes. And as often as the vacationers, two hundred strong, deploy
for the night over a lily-sprinkled meadow, a dozen pairs of Juncoes go
sleepless, or else abandon impossible charges. At the Vidette Camp in
1913 the ladies showed me four cold eggs in a nest so deeply recessed in
the bank of Bubb’s Creek as to be entirely concealed from the vertical gaze.
Buried in the ground as she was, the bird had endured the frequent
proximity of the women passing to and from the creek, not three feet
away, without betraying her trust, until at last one lady inadvertently
emptied her half-drained drinking cup by a back-flip and sent the water
square across the entrance of this hidden domicile. Thereupon its indig-
nant mistress emerged, never to return. And of all the nests shown to
the bird-man that season by the courtesies of a hundred pairs of eyes,
fully three-fourths were those of Junco oreganus thurbert.
The Oregon Juncoes
No. 51c_ Point Pinos Junco
A. O. U. No. 567d. Junco oreganus pinosus Loomis.
Description.—Adults: Very similar to those of J. 0. oreganus, and matching
them fully as to rufescence of back, etc., but black of male possibly a little less intense,
especially on throat and chest. Doubtfully different!—merely a sedentary stock
occupying the ancient stronghold of the (sub) species oreganus, and exhibiting the two
differential characters (really one) of a sedentary form, viz., the shorter wing and tail.
Nesting.— Nest and eggs much as in preceding form.
Range.—The Transitional areas of the Santa Cruz district, breeding from San
Bruno (Ray) in San Mateo County south to Big Creek (Jenkins), Monterey County,
irregularly east in winter at lower levels. The breeding ranges of pinosus and thurberi
appear to inosculate deeply upon the northeast.
Authorities.—Vigors (Fringilla hyemalis), Zoology of Captain Beechey's
Voyage, 1839, p. 20; Loomzs, Auk, vol. x., 1893, p. 47 (Point Pinos; orig. desc.) ; zbid., Auk,
vol. xi., 1894, p. 265, col. pl.; Kaeding, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i, 1899, p. 80
(distr., habits, etc.); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, p. 82
(food); Dwight, Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., vol. xxxviii., 1918, p. 291 (distr., variation,
crit.).
THE RACE pinosus, stranded upon the hills of Monterey and Santa
Cruz counties, exemplifies a phenomenon which should be clearly under-
stood by the student of western bird-life. If we are to give this ten-
dency a name—we may call it chorophily (y@e0s, a place, a definite
region, @tkéo, | love). By this we mean that attachment to a given
place or region which prevents a bird (or other animal) from forsaking its
ancestral home. In the strictest sense the term might apply as well to
migrants which repair to definite homes or narrow ranges both in summer
and in winter. (For example, we have at Los Colibris a Dwarf Hermit
Thrush who returns to us regularly in winter. The Lord knows where he
nests,—perhaps on Vancouver Island—but he spends six months on our
narrow acre in closer attendance than a [purely hypothetical] house cat.)
But for the purposes of our discussion we will confine the term to such
species or forms as are not only non-migratory, but which succeed in
resisting the migratory impulse manifested by their congeneric and con-
specific fellows. The Belding Sparrow, the Salt Marsh Song Sparrow, the
Point Pinos Junco are such species.
The case is all the more remarkable with J. 0. pinosus, for the related
forms, J. 0. thurbert, couest, and oreganus, have shifted notably within
historic times. They are invading the Northland with rapid stride. But
J. 0. pinosus has found, long since, in the coastal regions of Monterey
and Santa Cruz counties, the humid coolness which the species loves.
Abundant fogs and towering redwood forests are assured blessings.
Wherefore, pinosus will not go questing.
There is something pathetic in this loyalty on the part of a few birds
298
The Gray-headed Junco
belonging to a species whose other members are notorious wanderers.
There must be something very attractive about the coasts of Monterey!
Those whose opinions coincide with that expressed by pinosus should feel
greatly flattered. No doubt they do; and we shall look to them or to some
gifted member of the Santa Cruz tribe to prepare a life history of the Point
Pinos Junco which shall be worth while. All that an outsider may know,
so far, is that the subspecies is just appreciably different in appearance.
No differences in song or nesting or winter behavior have yet been
described, but such doubtless exist.
No. 52
Gray-headed Junco
A. O. U. No. 570b. Junco caniceps (Woodhouse).
Description.—A dult (sexes alike): Head and neck all around, chest and rump,
neutral gray, darker above, lighter below, shading on breast and sides into dull white
or buffy white of remaining underparts; lores and area about base of bill narrowly
black; back walnut-brown; wings chiefly fuscous; the coverts gray; the outer web of
scapulars tinged with brown; two outer pairs of rectrices entirely and third pair largely
white. Bill pinkish in life (drying pale brown); irides brown; tarsus pale brown,
feet darker. Length about 161.3 (6.35); wing 84.6 (3.33); tail 66.6 (2.62); bill 10.9
(.47); tarsus 20.6 (.81). Females smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; foreparts definitely gray, and back warm
reddish brown; underparts shaded without abrupt contrast.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest and eggs not certainly dis-
tinguishable from those of preceding species.
General Range.—The northernmost form of an allied group which includes
J. phaeonotus: breeds in Utah and southern Wyoming, south to northern New Mexico;
winters at lower levels to northern Mexico and casually to southern California.
Occurrence in California.—Three records: Pasadena, Oct. 26, 1894 (Grinnell) ;
Julia, San Diego County, common, Nov. 18 to Dec. 3, 1906 (A. P. Smith); Oak Glen,
San Bernardino Mts., March 4, 1922 (A. J. van Rossem).
Authorities.—Grinnell, Pasadena Acad. Sci. Pub., no. ii., 1898, p. 38 (Pasadena,
Oct. 26, 1894); Trippe, in Coues’ Birds of the Northwest, 1874, p. 144 (Colorado;
habits, song, etc.); A. P. Smith, Condor, vol. ix., 1907, p. 199 (Julian); Rockwell and
Wetmore, Auk, vol. xxxi., 1914, p. 325, fig. (Colorado; habits, nest and eggs); Dwight,
Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., vol. xxxviii., 1918, p. 299, col. pl. (distr., variation, crit.);
Dickey, Condor, vol. xxiv., 1922, p. 137 (San Bernardino Mts.).
THE. GRAY-HEADED JUNCO is an invader from the central
Rocky Mountains and from the lesser ranges of Utah and Nevada. His
mistake in wintering in California is more noticeable than that of Junco
299
The Western Tree Sparrow
hyemalis; for in doing so he forsakes the traditional southeasterly trend
of the autumn migrations, and turns westward. Of course we warmly
applaud such effort while we speculate upon the mysterious causes which
lead up to it.
The slaty gray of the foreparts in caniceps is different enough from
thurbert’s smart black to attract the attention of a novice, and the possi-
bility of the stranger’s presence gives zest to a review of every local flock
of Juncoes in southern California.
No. 53
Western Tree Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 559a. Spizella arborea ochracea Brewster.
Description.—Adults: Pileum, a malar streak, a streak behind eye, and a
small patch on side of chest, cinnamon-rufous or hazel; superciliary stripe and re-
maining portions of head and neck light neutral gray; throat and chest of same shade
superficially but duller by virtue of concealed dusky; an ill-defined spot of dusky in
center of lower chest; remaining underparts dull white, washed on sides with brownish;
general color of upperparts light buffy grayish brown; much outcropping black on
back, scapulars, and tertials; some rusty edging on back-feathers, scapulars, and great-
er wing-coverts; middle and greater wing-coverts tipped with white, forming two
conspicuous bands; flight-feathers grayish dusky margined with whitish and buffy;
the rectrices with narrow whitish edgings. Bill blackish above, yellow tipped with
dusky below; legs brown, feet darker; iris brown. Jn winter the cinnamon-rufous of
crown is slightly veiled, especially along median area, by ashy skirtings of feathers,
and the buffy of upperparts inclines to strengthen. Length about 152.4 (6.00); wing
76 (3.00); tail 68 (2.68); bill 10 (.39); tarsus 20.8 (.82).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; resembles Western Chipping Sparrow
but much larger; white wing-bars with chestnut crown distinctive.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: On the ground or in low
bushes; composed of bark-strips, grasses, moss, etc., heavily lined with feathers. Eggs:
3 to 6; pale bluish green, finely and heavily and almost uniformly marked with reddish
brown (vinaceous russet). Av. size 19 x 14 (.75 X .55).
Range of Sp7zella arborea —Northern North America, south in winter to southern
border states.
Range of S. a. ochracea—Western North America, breeding from the Anderson
River west to Bering Sea, and south to mountains of central British Columbia. In
winter south through the Western States east of the Cascade-Sierra divide, south to
Arizona and Texas, east to eastern Kansas.
Occurrence in California.—One record: specimen taken by Captain Feilner
at Fort Crook, Shasta County. Probably a rare winter visitor in northeastern portion
of State.
Authorities.— Henshaw, Rep. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1879, p. 296; Townsend,
Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., x., 1887, p. 218; Cooper, J.G., Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 206; Grinnell,
Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p. 118.
300
The Western Tree Sparrow
“THE sight of the first Tree Sparrow in the fall serves perfectly to
call up a vision of impending winter. Here are the hurrying blasts, the
leaden skies, the piling snow-drifts, all ready to make the beholder shiver.
But here, too, in some unburied weed patch, or thicket of rose-briars, is a
company of Tree Sparrows, stout-hearted and cold-defying, setting up a
merry tinkling chorus, as eloquent of good cheer as a crackling Yule-log.
How many times has the bird-man hastened out after some cruel cold snap,
thinking, ‘Surely this
will settle for my birds,’
only to have his fears re-
buked by a troop of these
hardy Norsemen revel-
ling in some back pas-
ture as if they had found
their Valhalla on this
side the icy gates. Ho!
brothers! here is food in
these capsules of mus-
tard and cockle; here is
wine distilled from the
rose-hips; here is shelter
in the weedy mazes, or
under the soft blanket
of the snow. What ho!
Lift the light song! Pass
round the cup again!
Let mighty cheer pre-
vail!”’ (Birds of Ohio).
The claim of the
Western Tree Sparrow
to a place upon the Cali-
fornia list still rests upon
the solitary specimen
taken by Feilner at Fort
Crook, in Shasta Coun-
ty, in 1879. Because of
the milder climate of the
Pacific Coast region,
these hardy birds do not
come so far south in
winter as do their east-
ern compatriots, and WESTERN TREE SPARROW
The Western Chipping Sparrow
they are rare even in northern Washington. At the same time, it is
highly probable that northern California has enjoyed several unrecorded
visitations, and a recurrence is always a lively possibility. During its
Southland forays, the bird’s food, consisting, as it does, of grass- and weed-
seed and dried berries, is found near the ground; and so, for the season,
the name Tree Sparrow seems inconsistent. When persistently annoyed,
however, the flock will rise to the tree-tops in straggling fashion, and
there either await the withdrawal of the intruder, or else make off at a
good height.
The song of the Tree Sparrow is sweet and tuneful, affording a
pleasing contrast to the monotonous ditty of the Western Chipping Spar-
row. Snatches of song may be heard, indeed, on almost any mild day in
winter; but the spring awakening assures a more pretentious effort. A
common form runs, Swee-ho, sweet, sweet, sweet, with notes of a most
flattering tenderness. But we may only guess at the bird’s full powers,
for the home-making is in Alaska.
No. 54
Western Chipping Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 560a. Spizella passerina arizonz Coues.
Synonyms.—Currry. HArr-BirD.
Description.— Adult male in breeding plumage: Crown bright chestnut (auburn
or hazel); continuation on hindhead sharply streaked with black; extreme forehead
narrowly black and divided by white line; a white superciliary and a narrow black
line through eye; rump neutral gray; nuchal collar (crossed centrally by black streaks)
neutral gray shading on sides of head and neck and sides into dull white of under-
parts; back and scapulars wood-brown, or avellaneous, heavily streaked with black;
wings and tail fuscous, blackening on exposed tips of tertiaries and unexposed portions
of wing-coverts; lesser coverts grayish olive to fuscous; middle and greater coverts
tipped with white or buffy white, forming two inconspicuous bars. _ Bill black in highest
plumage only; otherwise brown above and much lighter to pale below; legs light brown,
feet darker. Adult female in spring: Much like adult male and sometimes indis-
tinguishable, but usually chestnut of crown largely mixed with black shaft-streaks
and brownish or buffy skirtings. Yearling females in spring are scarcely chestnut
on crown—merely a more intense wood-brown. Jn fall and winter: Hazel of crown
much admixed with black and buffy; remaining plumage softer and more blended,
with increase of grayish brown. Jmmature birds are like adults in autumn, but crown
without chestnut,—exactly like back, and sides of head, including superciliary, tinged
with buffy. Juvenals are like immatures, but less rufescent, more grayish or flaxen,
and are heavily streaked with dusky on breast and sides. Length of adult male
146-152.4 (5.75-6.00); wing 72 (2.84); tail 61 (2.41); bill 9.6 (.38); tarsus 17 (.67). Fe-
males a little less.
302
A Warm Day in the Yosemite
The Western Chipping Sparrow is panting on her nest
From a photograph by the Author
Ay
i
The Western Chipping Sparrow
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; chestnut of crown and whitish super-
ciliary distinctive; adult unmarked below. Young birds of the year heavily streaked
above on a pinkish brown ground.
Nesting.— Nest: A compact or careless structure of weed-stems, grasses and
(most commonly and often exclusively) rootlets, heavily lined with horsehair, placed
at moderate heights in bushes or trees, indifferently in riparian shrubbery, orchard
trees, or evergreens. Eggs: 3 to 5, commonly 4; bluish green (pale niagara green),
sharply and sparingly spotted and marked, chiefly in ring about larger end, with brown-
ish black, paling variously, according to depth below surface, to deep dull lavender
or vinaceous lilac. Av. size 17 x 12.7 (.67 x .50). Season: April-July; two broods.
Taken in Fresno County
Photo by the Author
A TYPICAL VALLEY-FLOOR NESTING SITE
Range of Spizella passerina.—North America from southern and western Can-
ada south to Nicaragua.
Range of S. p. arizone.—Western North America. Breeds from the southern
border of the United States, chiefly in the mountains north of the Yukon Valley and
the Mackenzie (Fort Good Hope) east to eastern Colorado, western Manitoba, etc.
Winters from southern California to Cape San Lucas and south over the Mexican
plateau. 5
Distribution in California.—Breeds locally in Upper Sonoran zone west of
the Sierras, and almost everywhere in Transition zones up to limit of trees in Boreal.
SO)
The Western Chipping Sparrow
WESTERN CHIPPING
SPARROWS
Qs
Also found attendant upon culture in valleys, even in Lower Sonoran. Occurs reg-
ularly upon the timbered islands of the Santa Barbara group. Winters sparingly
in the San Diego district.
Authorities.—Heermann (Emberiza socialis), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser.
2, ii., 1853, p. 265; Cooper, J. G., Orn. Calif., 1870, pp. 207-208 (habits); Belding,
Occ. Papers, Calif. Acad. Sci., 2, 1890, pp. 155-156 (migration); Judd, Biol. Surv. Bull.,
no. 15, I901, pp. 76-78 (part) (food); Beal, Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, pp. 80-82
(food); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 78 (on coastal islands).
AN OBSCURE little fellow he is to eye, a skit done in faded browns,
with a chestnut crown which still does not differentiate the owner from
a withered flower-cluster of wintry creosote, nor from a fallen fir cone on
the flanks of Shasta. We used to call him domestica, and rejoiced to think
304
The Western Chipping Sparrow
that at a given season he would make free with our lawns, or appear in the
back yard to claim a share of the crumbs. Later the name socialis came
into vogue, and this, too, expressed the bird’s friendliness toward folks,
rather than any gregarious tendency. Then the relentless law of priority
inflicted the name of passerina upon us, and we have no way to record our
appreciation of the bird’s homely trustfulness.
The naming of birds is a highly artificial process at best, and as
often misleading as instructive. Spzzella, little sparrow, is excellent:
passerina, sparrowlike, is a silly reduplication; while
arizone, of the desert, is rather inept as applied to
the Western Chipping Sparrow in California, since
the bird appears sparingly in our deserts only in
the winter season. In the northern interior, say
in eastern Washington, the bird is quite
characteristic of the sage-brush deserts, or
desert fringes; but in California the Chip-
ping Sparrow has three principal breeding
associations: culture, including parks,
orchards and lawns; river fringes, espe-
cially of the upper levels; and evergreen
timber. The last division requires
further distinction, for this Sparrow
is not a bird of the forest depths, but
only of the parks and openings,—the
forest borders, whether these be of
second-growth redwood in the log-
ged-off areas of Humboldt County, a
yellow pine grove in the central
Sierras, or the upper timbered levels
lying along both sides of the Sierra
crests. The Chipping Sparrow,
therefore, is a bird of extreme ‘“‘toler-
ance,’ for at the same time it is
enduring the high temperatures (oc-
casionally up to 110 degrees) of the
lower Sonoran orchards in Los Ange-
les County, the chilly sea fogs of
humid Transition in Del Norte
County, and the nightly frosts of the
11,000 foot level on Mount Whitney.
Yet for all this, there is no evidence
of incipient change in plumage, nor
Taken in San Diego County Photo by Donald R. Dickey
WESTERN CHIPPING SPARROW, NEST AND YOUNG
The Western Chipping Sparrow
of any tendency to split up into subspecies. The alleged paling of
“arizone”’ is a slight character at best, and it is passing strange that the
Chipping Sparrow’s plumage has not become resaturated during the
bird’s attendance upon the humid forests which stretch from Monterey
to British Columbia, nor further bleached in winter upon the burning
sands of the Mohave and Colorado deserts.
Whatever the weather, Chippy returns to us about the first of April,
posts himself on the tip of an evergreen branch, like a brave little Christ-
mas candle, and proceeds to sputter, in the same part. Of all homely
sounds the monotonous trill of the Western Chipping Sparrow is the most
homely,—and the most easily forgivable. As music it scarcely ranks
above the rattle of castanets; but the little singer pours out his soul full
earnestly, and his ardor often leads him to sustained effort throughout
the sultry hours when more brilliant vocalists are sulking in the shade;
and for this we come to prize his homely ditty like the sound of plashing
waters.
Two Chipping Sparrow songs heard in a northern locality deserve
special mention. One likened itself in our ears to a tool being ground on a
small emery wheel. The wheel has a rough place on its periphery which
strikes against the tool with additional force and serves to mark a single
revolution, but the continuous burr which underlies the accented points, or
trill-crests, is satisfied by this comparison alone. The other effort, a pecu-
liar buzz of varying intensity, carries forward the same idea of continuous
sound, but the comparison changes. In this the song appears to pour
from the tiny throat without effort, and its movement is as though an
unseen hand controlled an electric buzz, whose activity varies with the
amount of ‘“‘juice’’ turned on: zzzzzzzzzzt, zzz2222zzzt, 2222zzzzzzt, ZZZLZ
LLM LLM LEELA LLL
In mountain camps the song of the Chipping Sparrow sometimes re-
quires careful distinction from that of the Sierra Junco (Junco oreganus
thurberi). Chippy’s trill is never musical, but Junco’s song occasionally
emulates it In woodenness.
Chippy’s nest is a frail affair at best, although it is often elaborately
constructed of fine twigs, rootlets, and grasses, with a plentiful lining of
horsehair. In some instances the last-named material is employed
exclusively. An orchard branch or a sycamore bough is a favorite situa-
tion in the low country, a horizontal branch of fir or redwood in the wet
country, and a bristling pine sapling undoubtedly has preference in the
Sierras. Rose thickets are always popular, and where the bird frankly
forsakes the wilds, ornamental shrubbery and vines are chosen. The nests
are often so loosely related to their immediate surroundings as to give the
impression of having been constructed elsewhere, and then moved bodily
306
The Western Chipping Sparrow
to their present sites. Some are set as loosely as feathers upon the tips
of evergreen branches, and a heavy storm in season is sure to bring down
a shower of Chippies’ nests.
Eggs are laid during April, May, or June, according to level. They
are among the most familiar objects in Nature, and particular descrip-
tion of them ought to be unnecessary. But every person who knows that
we are interested in birds has to stop us on the street to tell about the
“cunningest little nest, you know, with four of the cutest oY Bolla
on,’ we say; ‘‘were the eggs blue?” “Yes.” “With dots on them?”’
“Why, yes; how did you know?”
Incubation lasts only ten days, and two broods are usually raised
in each season. Chipping Sparrows are very devoted parents and the
sitting female will sometimes allow herself to be taken in the hand. The
male bird is not less sedulous in the care of the young, and he sometimes
exercises a fatherly oversight of the first batch of babies, while his mate
is preparing for the June crop.
Taken in Mariposa County
Photo by the Author
A WARM DAY IN YOSEMITE
The Western Chipping Sparrow
The nest with young figured here was found on the 15th day of June
in the Yosemite Valley. It was placed four feet up in a wild rose thicket,
and not over five feet from the main traveled road. The day threatened
to be an unusually warm
one, and already at nine
o'clock in the morning
the mother bird was
found standing upon the
brim of the nest shield-
ing her chicks, with out-
stretched wings, from
the sun’s rays. At ten
o'clock, when we re-
turned with the cameras,
the situation was worse,
heatwise, but at that I
had to tear away the
cover to get enough light
on the nest. The mother
bird returned presently,
and finding the heat in-
tolerable, fluttered and
crowded until she had
forced the last baby out
of the nest and down the Taken in Mariposa County Photo by the Author
stem where there was “THEY WOULD NOT ‘LOOK PLEASANT, PLEASE’ ”
shade. One youngster
got the idea too thoroughly and disappeared in the depths of the bushes,
but the other three we succeeded in coaxing up one by one until they
would sit decently upon the hand. They would not “look pleasant,
please,’ and were decidedly relieved when the ordeal was over and they
could bolt into the shade. They simply would not stay in the nest even
when the sun declined. That tie was broken. The mother bird re-
peatedly settled into the nest and made coaxing sounds, though whether
with intention to induce a return on the part of her erring youngsters, or
merely to deceive me, | could not tell. As she sat thus, the male parent
lighted on the side of the nest and offered to feed, but he was promptly
driven away by his mate with manifest reproaches for his stupidity.
Seeing the jig was up anyway, the mother hunted up her favorite son,
snuggled close, and settled down to a defiant nap.
308
The Black-chinned Sparrow
No. 55
Black-chinned Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 565. Spizella atrogularis (Cabanis).
Description.—Adult (sexes alike): Middle of back and scapulars grayish
brown (sayal brown or wood-brown), heavily streaked with blackish (quite as in other
Spizelle); region about base of bill—the face—black, shading posteriorly, save on
chin and upper throat, where abruptly defined from the neutral gray of the remaining
plumage; the gray darkest above, where sometimes washed with dull brownish; shading
below toward white or grayish white of middle belly and crissum; lower tail-coverts
white, broadly streaked with gray; wings and tail fuscous with vague edgings of brown-
ish gray. Bill reddish brown, darkening on tip; tarsus brown, feet dusky brownish.
Immature birds lack the black of face, and the black of the adult female—never quite
so strong as that of the male—is probably not attained before the second season.
Young birds are faintly streaked below. Length of adult about 146 (5.75); wing 62
(2.45); tail 66 (2.60); bill 9.3 (.37); tarsus 18.8 (.74).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black face against gray ground distinctive;
gray of upperparts in abrupt contrast with saddle of streaky ‘‘sparrow color’’; light
bill; chaparral-haunting habits.
Nesting.— Nest: A compact cup of dried grasses, lined—or not—with horse-
hair; placed in sage or other shrub of the dwarf chaparral, often well concealed. Eggs:
3 or 4; of two types, both light bluish green (pale niagara green), the one unmarked,
the other sparingly spotted and marked with dull brown and brownish black. Avy.
size 16.5 x 12.7 (.65 x .50). Season: May—June; one brood.
General Range.—‘‘Breeds in desert and coast ranges of southern California,
Arizona, and southern New Mexico to northern Lower California, and south over
the Mexican tableland to Hidalgo, Puebla, Mexico; Jalisco and Michoacan; winters
in the southern part of its breeding range and south to Cape San Lucas’’ (A. O. U.).
Distribution in California.— Breeds in the chaparral of mountain sides through-
out the San Diego district, northwestward at least to northeastern San Luis Obispo
County (the Wreden Ranch); and on the southeastern desert ranges north at least
to Silver Creek in the White Mountains (May 28, 1919). Recorded casually in Mon-
terey County (June 25, 1894, by Rollo H. Beck); and in Alameda County near Contra
Costa line (May 27, 1899, by D. A. Cohen). Only one recorded occurrence in winter;
San Clemente Island, Dec. 5, 1908, by C. B. Linton.
Authorities.—Gunn, Orn. and Ool., vol. x., Feb., 1885, p. 30 (Colton); Cozes,
Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1866, p. 87 (Ft. Whipple, Ariz.; habits; crit.); Morcom,
Bull. Ridgway Orn. Club, vol. ii., 1887, p. 49; Fisher, N. Am. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, p. 92
(Panamint Mts., Walker Pass, Owens Valley, etc.); Wallett, Pac. Coast Avifauna,
no. 7, 1912, p. 81 (s. Calif.; nesting dates, etc.); Grinnell and Swarth, Univ. Calif.
Pub. Zool., vol. x., 1913, p. 273 (habits, nests and eggs, song, etc.).
TSEET chweet chweet chweet trrrrr, came from the flanking chaparral
high up on the hillside. Never did I name a bird with more instant confi-
dence on the basis of its song alone, than I did this one, heard at evening
as the motor labored up the lower reaches of the San Jacinto River. Its
399
The Black-chinned Sparrow
quality was entirely new, but its cadence was Spizelline. We declared
camp at once, and a charming spot we found, under the live oak trees at a
little remove across the river. We called it Black-chin Camp, of course,
although the Black-chinned Hummers were there to dispute honors with
atrogularis. The night dragged all too slowly with the memory of the un-
seen singer to haunt the
professional conscience,
and the no less disturb-
ing promise of early so-
lution in the morning.
True to all the tra-
ditions of hospitality,
our host called us in time
for breakfast (although
he would not get it for
us). Shrill, vibrant, pen-
etrating, with the incis-
iveness of a whip-crack,
but infinitely sweeter,
comes each note, accel-
erando, until the trill is
reached. Here the singer
becomes disheartened,
and lets his melody peter
EE Sei out to an inglorious fin-
Taken in Santa Barbara County Photo by the Author ish. Alternating irregu-
NESTING HAUNT OF THE BLACK-CHINNED SPARROW larly with this song is
another which is little
more than a simple (and altogether different) trill. This phrase begins
with a single inspirated note, those which follow are just distinct enough
to be separated by the ear, while the terminal portion becomes rapid and
diminuendo, as before. This echo song, moreover, is oftenest terminated,
after the tiniest interval, by a single cheep or tsweet of characteristic qual-
ity. It is as though the singer had signed his name with a flourish to a
performance which we should not otherwise have recognized.
It must have been this alternate, or echo song, of which Grinnell
could say: ‘The general impression is of a weak song. It certainly does
not carry far; on the contrary a bird may be singing close at hand and
give the impression of a great distance.”"! Of the major song I can only
testify that it has extraordinary carrying power, and that I have heard
it distinctly (the bird being meanwhile under observation by 8-powers)
1 Grinnell-Swarth, ‘‘ Birds and Mammals of San Jacinto,’’ U. of C., Publ..in Zool., Vol. 10. 1913, p. 275.
310
The Black-chinned Sparrow
at a quarter of a mile. Once known, it can never be forgotten; and many
a chaparral-covered hillside, which otherwise would have had no distinc-
tion, is forever impressed on memory by the quaintly sweet brank brank
brank brank trrrr of this modest and all too distant singer.
The behavior of the Black-chinned Sparrow is worth recording. As
a singer he performs conscientiously, and with an eye single to duty. He
chooses elevated stations, a yucca stalk, the tip of the tallest chamisal,
or, rarely,a tree. He is quite demure in manner, sitting pensive or turning
calmly in the intervals which succeed his song. But every five or ten
minutes, prudence enjoins that he shift his station, even though it be to
another of equal prominence. If we approach, he will retire, singing
distantly, or else con- . ————
clude the concert
abruptly.
Not from him shall
we receive any informa-
tion as to the dainty
nest, placed at a height
of a foot or so, in one of
the thickest bushes of
the hillside. And if we
flush the female, sitting
tight till close approach,
she will disappear upon
the instant, and as like
as not for good. As a
confirmed odlogist, | am
inclined to resent this
reticence, and to set it
down to contumacy
rather than caution. The
three or four tiny blue-
green eggs, with or with-
out spots and dots of
cinnamon or sepia, are
annoyingly like those of
Spizella passerina. Who
knows?
One would like to
see the parent bird. itl
And if there were dan- Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce
ger of Brewer’s Sparrows NEST AND EGGS OF BLACK-CHINNED SPARROW
Bui
The Brewer Sparrow
being present (fortunately there is very little), the situation would be
hopeless.
Like so many of the chaparral- and sage-haunting species, the Black-
chinned Sparrow colonizes loosely. Here on a hillside may be found half a
dozen pairs, and upon the heels of this good fortune, a silence of a dozen
miles, or forty, may ensue. The time to study Black-chinned Sparrows is
not when you will, but when you can.
No. 56
Brewer’s Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 562. Spizella breweri Cassin.
Description.— Adults: Upperparts light grayish brown, grayer—nearly light
neutral gray—on nuchal collar; brightest brown on back; everywhere (save on remiges
and rectrices) streaked with black or dusky, narrowly on crown, more broadly on back
and scapulars, less distinctly on rump; wing-coverts and tertials varied by edgings
of brownish buff; flight-feathers and rectrices dark grayish brown or dusky, with some
edging of light grayish brown; a broad pale buffy superciliary stripe, scarcely contrast-
ing with surroundings; underparts dull whitish, tinged on sides and across breast
by pale buffy gray. Bill pale brown, darkening on tip and along culmen; feet pale
brown; iris brown. Young birds show more of an ochraceous element upon the wings,
and are heavily streaked upon the breast and sides with dusky. Length 135 (5.30):
wing 62 (2.44); tail 60.5 (2.38); bill 9.6 (.38); tarsus 17.3 (.68).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; general streaked appearance; absence of
distinguishing marks practically distinctive; sage-haunting habits.
Nesting.— Nest: A compact cup of twigs, weed-stems, and rootlets, lined,
if possible, with horsehair; placed in bushes, often well concealed in sage, greasewood,
or atriplex. Eggs: 3 or 4, very rarely 5; light bluish green (light niagara green to
pale nile blue), spotted about the larger end (sometimes confluent in ring) with rich
reddish brown (liver-brown). Av. of 26 specimens in the M. C. O. collection, 16.6 x 12
(.655 x .472). Season: May—July, according to elevation; usually one brood.
General Range.—Sage-brush plains of the West, breeding from the southern
portion of the Southwestern States north to southeastern British Columbia, and east
to western Nebraska; south in winter through Lower California, and in Mexico to
Jalisco.
Distribution in California.—Breeds in high Upper Sonoran and Transition
zones, chiefly east of the Sierras and locally in Upper Sonoran in the great interior
valley or elsewhere,—Fresno County (Tyler); Sespe (Peyton); Carrizo Plains (Swarth).
Also a summer or late summer visitor and possible breeder in the Boreal zone to the
limit of trees,—White Mountains at alt. 10,000, May 26 and 27, 1919; Warner Moun-
Bye.
The Brewer Sparrow
tains at alt. 8500, July 8, 1912; Cottonwood Lakes (Inyo County) at alt. 11,000,
July 10, 1911, etc. Winters sparingly in the San Diegan district, and along the Colo-
rado River; has occurred also in winter at Fresno (Tyler), and casually at Redwood
City (Littlejohn).
Authorities.—Heermann (Emberiza pallida), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser.
2, li., 1853, p. 265; Cassin, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1856, p. 40 (desc. of brewert);
Ridgway, Orn. 40th Parallel, 1877, p. 480 (song) ; Grinnell, Auk, vol. xxii., 1905, p. 386;
Peyton, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 207 (nests); Tyler, Condor, vol. xii., 1910, pp. 193-195
(nesting, habits, etc.).
IT IS never quite fair to say that Nature produces a creature which
harmonizes perfectly with its surroundings, for the moment we yield
tribute of admiration to one creature, we discover amid
the same circumstances another as nearly perfect but
entirely different. When we consider the Sage Spar-
row, we think that Nature cannot improve much upon
his soft grays by way of fitness for his desert
environment; but when we come upon the Brewer
Sparrow, we are ready to wager that here the dame
has done her utmost to produce a bird of non-
committal appearance. Mere brown might have
been conspicuous by default, but brownish,
broken up by hazy streakings of other brownish
or dusky—call it what you will—has given us a
bird which, so far as plumage is concerned, may
be said to have no mark of distinction whatever
—just bird.
The Sage Sparrow fits into the gray-green
massy scheme of color harmony in the artemisia,
while Brewer’s fits into the somber, brown-and-
streaky scheme of its twigs and branches. To
carry out the comparison, do not look for brewer
early in the season, when the breath of the rain
rises from the ground and the air is astir; he is
there, of course, but disregard him. Wait,
rather, until the season is advanced, when the in-
comparable sun of Yakima has filled the sage-
brush full to overflowing, and it begins to ooze out
heat in drowsy, indolent waves. Then listen:
Weeeezzz, tubitubitubitubitub, the first part an in- ats ;
5 O 9 age Taken in San Bernardino County
spired trill, and the remainder an exquisitely modu- Photo by Wright M. Pierce
lated expirated trill in descending cadence. BREWER SPARROW
SHG}
The Brewer Sparrow
Taken in the Warner Mountains Photo by the Author
WHERE THE BREWER SPARROW SPENDS HIS SUMMER VACATION
Instantly one conceives a great respect for this plain dot in feathers,
whose very existence may have passed unnoticed before. The descending
strain of the common song has, in some individuals, all the fine shading
heard in certain imported canaries. Pitch is conceded by infinitesimal
gradations, whereby the singer, from some heaven of fancy, brings us
down gently to a topmost twig of earthly attainment. Nor does the song
in other forms lack variety. In fact, a midday chorus of Brewer Sparrows
is a treat which makes a tramp in the sage memorable.
The range of Brewer’s Sparrow in the breeding season is nearly
coextensive with that of Artemisia tridentata, the ‘‘sage’’ par excellence.
Inasmuch as this plant has a considerable altitudinal range, the bird
enjoys also a decided change of air. J. S. Appleton found Brewer Spar-
rows breeding at Simi (alt. 800 feet), May 21st and 28th, 1899; while I
took a set of four eggs on the 28th of June, 1911, at an elevation of 8600
feet, on the east flank of the Sierras, in Inyo County. However, an
occurrence at a similar level (8500) on the Warner Mountains was on
July 8th, and marked the close of the breeding season, with its attendant
SIF
The Harris Sparrow
emancipation from lower level duties. At the Cottonwood Lakes (alt.
11,000) in Inyo County, the species made its “‘vacation’”’ appearance
on the 1oth day of July (1911).
It is not impossible that the Brewer Sparrow nests twice in a season,
once at a lower level, and again several thousand feet higher. The species
nests in April further north, but there seem to be no breeding records
for that month in California.
Neither the nest nor the eggs of Brewer’s Sparrow are in themselves
certainly distinguishable from those of its congener (.S. passerina ari-
zone); but its nest, in my experience, is invariably placed in a small
bush, a sage-bush, at a height of not over one or two, or at most, three,
feet from the ground. Records of nesting in fruit trees I distrust; but
there is no doubt that Mr. Tyler did discover a unique and interesting
situation near Clover, in Fresno County.! An isolated colony of these
birds found an attractive summer home in a vineyard having a south
exposure. The curious fact in this connection is that the birds chose
for nesting sites only such vines as were dwarfed and yellowed, whether
because of the presence of some blight or through lack of soil. Mr.
Tyler checked up on this phenomenon for several successive years,
and came to know the afflicted specimens as “‘Brewer vines.” When
the vines in this vineyard were cured, the colony deserted in favor of
another having blighted members.
No. 57
Harris’s Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 553. Zonotrichia querula (Nuttall).
Description.—Adult (sexes alike): Top of head, region about base of bill,
broadly, and throat black; the black continued on chest, but broken up and scattered
upon center and sides of breast; hinder portion of cheeks, auricular region, and sides
of neck, pale buffy brown, or rarely plain gray; nape and dab on side of neck, chiefly
Prout’s brown;rump and upper tail-coverts plain drab; remaining upperparts ‘‘streaked-
sparrow-color,’’ i. e., drab heavily streaked with black and with marginings of lighter,
more buffy, brown; wings dusky, margined with grayish or pale rusty, the middle and
greater coverts tipped with white; tail dusky with narrow tips of white (in unworn
plumage only); sides grayish brown or dull ochraceous, vaguely streaked with dusky;
the sides of breast occasionally with admixture of rusty brown among black streaks;
tibia dusky, under tail-coverts pale ochraceous buff; remaining underparts white.
Bill light reddish brown, lightening below; feet and legs light brown (after drying,
darker). Immaturity is shown by reduction of blacks, the feathers of the pileum being
tipped with white, thus presenting a scaled appearance, and those of throat admixed
1 John G. Tyler in ‘‘ The Condor,” Vol. XII., Nov., 1910, pp. 193-195.
315
The Harris Sparrow
with white. Length about 190 (7.49); wing 89 (3.51); tail 84 (3.31); bill 13 (.52);
tarsus 24.4 (.96). Females somewhat smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Large Sparrow size; black of face and throat distinctive;
light bill; bush-haunting habits. Will probably be found, if at all, associating with
the other Zonotrichias.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest (as described by Raine): On
ground at foot of tree; composed of grass and fine bark; lined with dry grass. Eggs:
“Creamy white, spotted chiefly at the larger end with rusty brown and lilac’’ (Raine).
Av. 22.4 x 16.8 (.88 x .66). It is noteworthy that the account referred to above, found
in Cat. Canadian Birds, by John and James M. Macoun (Ottawa, 1909, p. 510), is the
only one we yet possess of the nesting of this mysterious bird.
General Range.—West central North America (the plains region north to
Mackenzie), breeding from Saskatchewan north probably to the limit of trees, in mi-
gration west to central Montana, east to eastern Illinois; winters from northern Kansas
and western Missouri south to southern Texas; casual in the Pacific Coast states and
in Ohio.
Occurrence in California.—Three records: Hayward, Oct. 27, 1900 (Emer-
son); San Clemente Island, Oct. 15, 1917 (Linton); Berkeley, bird seen repeatedly
between Dec. 25, 1912, and Feb. 11, 1913 (A. S. Allen).
Authorities——Emerson, Condor, vol. ii., 1900, p. 145 (at Hayward); Linton,
Condor, vol. x., 1908, p. 84 (San Clemente Id.); Allen, A. S., Condor, vol. xvii., 1915,
p- 116 (at Berkeley).
IT IS ground for chuckling satisfaction on the part of Californian
bird-lovers that all the species and subspecies of Zonotrichia, six in num-
ber, should have registered in the Golden State. It is pure graciousness
on the part of querula, for its summer home lies in British Columbia, east
of the Rocky Mountain system; and to reach us it must surmount heights
which are no part of its wonted scheme of things. Those few which do
appear so far south and west—there are only three instances of record—
have doubtless become involved in the moving hordes of gambeli which
annually sweep south regardless of obstacles.
Of the Harris Sparrow on its native heath comparatively little is
yet known. It frequents the “‘land of little sticks,”’ right to the edge of
the Barrens, and its nests are said to be placed on the ground at the base
of some small tree,—willow or birch.
An observer at one of querula’s way stations, in Manitoba, notes
that its spring song consists chiefly of three whistled repetitions of the
same note. ‘The performance was disappointingly short, but the general
impression gathered was, that whoever happens to hear the full song of
the Hooded Sparrow will know one of the sweetest of bird melodies.
During their spring visit the Blackhoods often uttered three clear whist-
ling notes, and on one occasion a soft blue-bird-like warble was added
to this.”’!
1“The Birds of Manitoba,"’ by Ernest E. Thompson; Proc. U. S. Natl. Mus., Vol. XIII. (1891), p. 598.
316
The Golden-crowned Sparrow
No. 58
Golden-crowned Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 557. Zonotrichia coronata (Pallas).
Description.—Adults: A broad crown-patch pyrite yellow, changing abruptly
to ashy gray on occiput; this bounded on each side by broad stripe of silky black,
meeting fellow on forehead; remaining upperparts grayish brown, broadly streaked
with black on back, more or less edged with dull reddish brown (wood-brown, or sayal
brown) on back, wing-coverts and tertials, glossed with olive on rump and tail; middle
and greater coverts tipped with white, forming conspicuous bars; chin, throat, sides
of head, and breast smoky gray (light smoky gray on throat to light grayish olive on
breast), with obscure vermiculations of dusky, shading into whitish of belly; sides
washed with buffy brown which becomes pure on flanks and crissum. Bill blackish
above, paler below; feet pale; iris brown. Immature: Without definite head-stripe;
crown broadly dull olive-yellow (between citrine and olive lake), clearest on forehead,
elsewhere sharply flecked with blackish in wedge-shaped marks, giving way to grayish
brown or dull chestnut behind, and to blackish on sides (variably according to age?);
washes of underparts strengthened. Length of adult male about 190.5 (7.50); wing
79 (3.11); tail 76 (3); bill 12.2 (.48); depth at base 8 (.32); tarsus 24 (.95). Females
a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; yellow of crown distinctive in any plumage.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest and eggs not well described,
but doubtless much as in following species.
General Range.—Pacific Coast region, breeding from central British Columbia
north to the Kowak River in Alaska; wintering casually from Puget Sound, and regu-
larly from central Oregon south to northern Lower California; in migrations irregularly
eastward to Alberta and Nevada, or even Colorado; accidental in Wisconsin.
Distribution in California.—Common in winter, but subject to great local
variation in numbers, throughout the State but chiefly west of the Sierran divide.
Occurs on the Santa Barbara Islands, and casually upon the deserts;—Yermo (Lamb);
Palm Canyon, Jan. 27, 1913; a desultory lingerer in spring,—Pasadena, May 9 (Grin-
nell); Shandon, May 13, 1912; Farallons, June 2, 1911.
Authorities.—Audubon (Emberiza atricapilla), Ornith. Biography, vol. v., 1839,
pp. 47-48; Mazlliard, J., Condor, vol. iii., 1901, pp. 78-79 (song); Fisher, W. K., Condor,
vol. ili., 1901, p. 79 (song); Beal, Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, pp. 78-79 (food) ; Bassett,
Condor, vol. xxii., 1920, pp. 136-137, 3 figs. (song variations).
GOLD is, of course, the proper color for a crown, and it is a rash bird
which would flaunt any other shade of yellow in the face of our deter-
mined generalization. Nevertheless, the ‘‘gold”’ of coronata’s crown is not
golden at all, but pyrite yellow, a shade produced by an admixture of
about equal parts of yellow and black. And so far is coronata from being a
rash bird (save for the shotgun, which is ‘‘no fair’’), it will probably take
the reader about three years to determine the correctness of my state-
ment. For regal, though he be, this sparrow is very discreet in the matter
317
The Golden-crowned Sparrow
of public appearances, and does not cultivate the public eye. The peren-
nial interest, therefore, of a winter company of skulking Crown Sparrows,
chiefly nuttalli and gambeli, lies in the effort to determine whether there
are any Golden-crowns among them.
Zonotrichias, whether migrating or wintering, are all coquettishly
retiring, and the first hint of danger sends them scuttling into the brush.
If one presses up to the edge of the brush, he may hear an uncanny rust-
ling among the leaves and branches as the birds retreat, but not a single
note is uttered. Left to themselves, the birds become sociable, with many
zinks, common to the genus; and if unusually merry, in the springtime, the
Golden-crowns indulge a sweet preparatory hoo hee which reminds one
both of the White-crowned (Z. leucophrys) and White-throated (Z. albi-
collis) Sparrows. We expect more, but save for modifications, presently
to be described, these tuning up notes are all that the bird has to offer;
and Mr. Grinnell,1 in the northern breeding home of the bird, notes only
their ‘‘extremely sad quavering song of two syllables.”
The question of the song of this bird having been raised in the columns
of the Condor, Mr. Joseph Mailliard replied in part as follows :2
“Tts song, if it may be dignified by such a title, consists of three notes
given in a descending scale with intervals of thirds, or to express it differ-
ently, sol, mi, do. The sound is that of a very high whistle, in fact so
high that in imitating the bird it is necessary for me to make it with the
tongue against the roof of the mouth, the lips apart. The notes are given
very softly and yet are penetrating.
“The song is given when the bird is either on the top of a low bush or
within the bush near the outside. As the two species (Z. coronata and
Z. 1. gambeli) invariably flock together during their residence in this
neighborhood [San Geronimo, Marin Co.j, and as it is very difficult to dis-
tinguish the immature gambeli from coronata at any distance, when both
kinds are banded together, especially when partly hidden by foliage, a
great deal of watching was necessary to enable me to establish the identity
of the songster. * * *
“This song only seems to be given in certain states of the weather,
notably before or after a rain, and is repeated again and again, often being
taken up by other birds of the same species within call. People living
in country towns often call this the rain-bird, and have asked me what
bird it was that made these sounds.”
The author’s notes record both the two-syllabled and the three-
syllabled songs, the former oftenest given with rising inflection, like that of
the eastern White-throat, the latter in descending scale, notes of marvelous
1‘ Birds of Kotzebue Sound Region,” p. 51.
2 The Condor, Vol. III., May, 1901, pp. 78, 79.
gI8
The White-crowned Sparrow
purity, save as the last is sometimes slurred through the suppressed emo-
tions of asigh. ‘Oh, dear me,” the bird says; and because he really does
say that, I make no apologies to Prof. W. K. Fisher, who first recorded
the fact in the Condor.
Golden-crowns have the familiar nasal tss, the keep-in-touch note
common to so many sparrows, and they have also a high-pitched chirp, or
ischip, neither so metallic nor so emphatic as that of leucophrys, nor so
rich as that of the Fox Sparrows.
As for the “‘rain-bird”’ tradition, one may remark that the bird hails
from the rainy coasts of Alaska and is likely to feel more at home with us
in wet weather. We have wet weather of our own, in Humboldt County,
for example, but the reports of birds nesting in California seem to lack
confirmation. I encountered a handsome male near the landing place
on the Southeast Farallon, June 2, 1911, but, seduced by the companion-
ship of such rarities as Magnolia Warbler, Redstart, Ovenbird, Lazuli
Bunting, and Sooty Fox Sparrow, he was in no wise accountable for his
behavior.
No. 59
White-crowned Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 554. Zonotrichia leucophrys (Forster).
Description.—Adult male: A broad crown-stripe of pure white, bounded by
lateral stripes of black, which meet in front and invade lores (but not deeply); a short
superciliary, involving eyelid but cut off in front by loral black, this in turn bounded
by a post-ocular stripe of black—thus making a seven-banded pattern of alternating
black and white for the hindhead; nape, continuous with sides of head and neck and
anterior underparts, light neutral gray, changing to white on throat and belly, and
to buffy brown on sides, flanks, and crissum; coloration of remaining upperparts like-
wise neutral gray, heavily streaked upon back and scapulars with dark grayish brown
(mars brown to vandyke brown) and some whitish, changing posteriorly to grayish
drab in which the brown element gains in intensity; upper tail-coverts, therefore,
buffy brown; wings and tail brownish fuscous; the flight-feathers and rectrices edged
with pale grayish brown, the inner feathers of the greater coverts and the exposed
outer webs of tertials edged with. reddish brown (snuff-brown to Prout’s brown);
the middle and greater coverts tipped with white, forming two fairly conspicuous
bars; axillaries and bend of wing white. Bill cinnamon brownish, darkening on tip;
iris brown; tarsus. pale brown; feet darker. Adult female: Much like adult male and
often indistinguishable, but usually somewhat duller, the head-stripes tinged with
brownish, and the whites of the head less pure; the cheeks tinged with brownish and the
grays of the upperparts less pure,—more brownish. Immature birds: Somewhat like
adults, but without black, and with total substitution of brownish gray for neutral
1Vol. III., 1901, p. 79.
ol)
The White-crowned Sparrow
Taken at the Cottonwood Lakes, all. 11,000 ; Photo by the Author
SUNRISE IN THE SIERRAS
gray; lateral crown-stripes rich brown (dark mars brown or dark chestnut), the in-
cluded area buffy brown; streaks of back darker; and wings with slight increase of
whitish edgings. Young birds are recognizably similar to immatures, but the crown-
stripes are broader, grayish brown spotted with black, and the whitish underparts
are sharply streaked with dusky. Length of adult male, 165-177.8 (6.50-7.00); wing
80 (3.15); tail 75 (2.96); bill 11.4 (.45); tarsus 23.4 (.92). Females average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; black-and-white striping of head; white
of throat not abruptly defined; lighter and grayer than Zonotrichia gambel1, but black
lores absolutely distinctive.
Nesting.— Nest: A sturdy cup of grasses, weed-stems and trash, on the ground,
or else a bulky mass of twigs, bark and miscellany, copiously lined with fine, dead
grasses, placed at moderate heights (1 to 3 feet up), in bushes or thickets. Eggs:
3 to 5; pale bluish green (lichen green to palest niagara green), moderately or heavily
sprinkled and spotted, or, rarely, mottled with brown (verona brown, or Rood’s
brown, or mars brown); markings show tendency to form cloud-cap or, more rarely,
cumulus; ground-color sometimes practically buried under pigment. 42 Sierra-taken
eggs in M. C. O. collection show limits of 18.8-23.9 x 15.2-18.3 (.74-.94 by .60-.72)
and average 21.3 x 16.5 (.84 x .65). Season: May 20—July 20; one or two broods.
General Range of the Zonotrichia leucophrys group (including Z. gambeli, now
reckoned a separate species).—North America from the limit of trees south in winter
to the southern border states and Mexico. Breeds in the elevated and cooler regions
320
The White-crowned Sparrow
of the West from Santa Barbara County, California, north to Alaska, and in the East
from Vermont to Labrador and southern Greenland.
Range of Z. leucophrys——In the breeding season occupies a discontinuous
range consisting of the Boreal zone in some of the highest mountains of the West,
and the eastern British Provinces from the west side of Hudson Bay southeast to
northern New England and northeast to Greenland; the western breeding range in-
cludes the Sierras from southern Oregon south to Tulare County, the Uintah and
Wasatch ranges, the San Francisco Mountains in Arizona, and the Rocky Mountains
from Wyoming south to southern New Mexico. Winters from northern Lower Cali-
fornia, southern Kansas, and the valley of the Ohio, south to southern New Mexico.
Distribution in California.—Breeds at timberline in the Sierras from Mt.
Shasta south to Surretta Meadows in Tulare County (Grinnell); also in the Warner
Mountains, and irregularly at lower altitudes, e. g., valley floor of the Yosemite, alt.
c. 4000 feet (June 10, 1914), even down to Upper Sonoran zone, Paoha Island, Mono
Lake (June 3, 1919). In migrations passes chiefly west of the Sierra Nevada divide,
at least north of Los Angeles County. Not found in the State in winter.
Authorities.—Newberry, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. vi., pt. iv., 1857, p. 87
(part); Henshaw, Rep. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1878, p. 185 (nesting) ; Belding, Occ. Papers,
Calif. Acad. Sci., 2, 1890, pp. 148-149 (nesting); Condor, vol. ii., 1900, p. 134 (range);
Ray, Auk, vol. xx., 1903, p. 188 (nest and eggs); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., 12,
IQI4, pp. 167-168; Dawson, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 28.
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF WHITE-CROWNED SPARROW
A GROUND NEST AT TIMBERLINE
321
The White-crowned Sparrow
PURE QUALITY pertains to the White-crowned Sparrow. He is
chieftain of his gens, or clan. His central crown-stripe is purest white,
and the bordering bands of black are, if possible, a little blacker, certainly
a little silkier, than those which adorn the lesser members of his race.
Moreover, the black invades the lores, and this mark is accepted, in this
instance at least, as conclusive evidence of superiority.
Two special circumstances conspire to raise leucophrys to preémi-
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
“SNOW-BOUND MEADOWS”
A NESTING HAUNT OF THE WHITE-CROWNED SPARROW
nence in our regard. In the first place, we do not see him in winter.
Winter is at best a time of let-down, a time of vulgar flocking, a time
of sordid scrambling for food. It is, therefore, a time of disillusionment
for bird-lovers. Picture a company of our favorite film stars crowded
together in a restaurant, a cafeteria perhaps, with only ten minutes in
which to bolt a cup of coffee, sandwich, and a piece of pie, before the
stage starts for Caesar’s Camp in Francisquita Canyon, L. A.! Ah, well
322
for us, no doubt, that
the White-crowned
Sparrow conducts his
winter business in
Chihuahua, beyond our
troubled ken.
But the thing which
endears the chieftain to
us most is his choice of
the high Sierras for a
summer home. Here is
an expression of taste
which meets our unqual-
ified approval. The
birds gather dignity
from the mountains, and
they grace in turn the
wildest fastnesses, the
snow-bound meadows,
and the crystal brooks
of “‘timberline.” When
a bird really prefers to
wrest a living from re-
luctant snow-drifts, to
pay court to ladies
beside roaring cataracts,
or to sing lullabies from
the vantage of storm-
twisted pines, it is a sign
that his heart is in the
right place, and that all
his actions must be
viewed indulgently.
Only the Rosy Finch de-
serves a higher place in
our regard, and he, alas!
does not sing.
No matter if you have
heard the ditties of gam-
The White-crowned Sparrow
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
THE CHIEFTAIN
beli or nuttalli at the lower levels a thousand times, or a million times, I
commend to you the sweet, courageous lay of leucophrys, sung at the
11,000 foot level. It has in it the sprightliness of springing heather,
323
The White-crowned Sparrow
the bright, compelling cheer of sunshine battling with glaciers for im-
prisoned waters, and a little of the wistfulness, withal, of whispering
pines. The song is none so varied, and its cadences might seem prosy
in the realm of Philomel. I do not know. But if I were a Lady Leuco-
phrys, and dwelt beside a frozen mere, I should ask my lord to sing in
just such satisfying tones.
An examination of the song of Z. leuwcophrys raises the question
whether the characteristics of bird notes are purely hereditary; or, as
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
“A VERY STURDY NEST IN THE LEAFLESS BRANCHES OF THE WILLOWS”
in the case of human speech, partly cultural, that is, derived from asso-
ciation with others not of one’s own gens. At any rate, the resemblance
—I will not say dependence—of the song of leucophrys to that of the
Passerella iliaca group is very suggestive. The resemblance is not
slavish, but whether in phrasing or in tonal quality, there is much to
hint at a blood relationship. Now and then it takes a nice discrimination
to separate the two songs: Oh hee sween’tie chup itchin’ from a White-
crown’s throat is like enough to the O ree rick’it loop iteer’ of the Slate-
colored Sparrow.
324
The White-crowned Sparrow
Taken in Inyo County Photo by the Author
A DWARF WILLOW NESTING SITE
Or, perhaps, and I propose this with the greatest diffidence, there
is a tendency toward homoplasy in song. A uniform environment
reacting upon diverse organisms tends to produce like results. Compare
the plumage and general appearance of the Pacific Fulmar and, say,
the California Gull. They look alike, but they hail from evolutionary
branches of early and vast divergence. Again, the climate of the Pacific
humid coastal region, as we know, makes for general suppression of
song, and especially of tonal quality. Per contra, the invigorating air of
the high Sierras may exert a uniformly stimulating influence upon two
sparrows so different as Zonotrichia and Passerella. Be that as it may,
these two are the authoritative interpreters of the Sierran wilderness.
In nesting the White-crowned Sparrows usually crowd the season
at the upper levels. There is good need for this too, for occasionally the
season is so delayed by heavy snows that the osier patches are only
being released in July. At such a time the birds will erect a very sturdy
nest in the leafless branches of the willows, trusting to the belated bushes
to provide a leafy screen before the young have hatched. So rank is
this mountain growth, however, that if the season be a little more for-
325
The Gambel Sparrow
ward, the birds will build openly on the tops of descending branches, in
order, apparently, to escape the smother of foliage. Again, nests will
be placed upon the ground in the general protection of the dwarf sage,
whose density the casual footstep oftenest avoids.
A nest of these birds at timberline is worth examination, for it is
a doughty castle, and a mighty resister of cold. Composed externally
of stout willow twigs, bark, and grasses, the interior is lined with finest
grasses, and a bit of hair, if possible. In one example before me, one
taken at the Upper Cottonwood Lakes, July 3rd, 1911, the nesting hollow,
which is three inches across by two inches deep, occupies only about one-
twentieth of the total bulk of the structure. The eggs are intended to
be frost-proof, and are, no doubt, after incubation has begun; but I have
seen nests deserted because the first-laid eggs were frozen.
The most anomalous set of our experience was taken on the floor of
the Yosemite Valley, some four thousand feet below the ordinary breeding
level frequented by these birds. It was as though the floor of the valley
had subsided, and the birds, loth to forsake their ancestral home, had
gone down with it to this unconscionable depth. But the Yosemite
floor is anomalous anyway, and the White-crowns had for company
other cheerful exiles, such as Hermit Thrush, Hermit Warbler, and
Lincoln Sparrow.
No. 60
Gambel’s Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 554a. Zonotrichia gambeli gambeli (Nuttall).
Synonyms.—INTERMEDIATE-CROWNED SPARROW. INTERMEDIATE SPARROW.
Description.—Similar to Z. leucophrys, but general tone of coloration darker
throughout,—the posterior underparts, especially, much deeper brown; the flanks
Saccardo’s umber instead of wood-brown; axillars and bend of wing pale yellow; lores,
broadly continuous with superciliary stripe, white. Measurements averaging a little
less: Males: wing 79 (3.12); tail 71 (2.80); bill 10.7 (.42); tarsus 22.9 (.90).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; lores not black; slightly larger and general
coloration lighter than in Z. g. nuttalli; white crown-stripe brighter. The commonest
winter bird in southern and interior California.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest and eggs much as in typical
form.
General Range of Z. g. gambeliimBreeds from mountains of northern Mon-
tana north between the coast mountains of British Columbia and Alaska and the
326
The Gambel Sparrow
interior plains to northern Mackenzie, and west to limit of trees in northwestern
Alaska; winters from northern California and Utah south to Lower California and
Mazatlan, Mexico; casually east during migrations to the Great Plains in lowa, Kan-
sas. etc.
Distribution in California.—Abundant in winter in the valleys and deserts
of southern California; in lesser numbers northward to San Francisco Bay and through-
out the great interior valley. Excessively common, especially east of the Sierras,
during migrations. Apparently does not occur in the humid coastal region north of
San Francisco Bay.
Authorities—Gambel, Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, i., 1847, pp.
50-51 (part); Henshaw, Rep. Orn. Wheeler Surv., 1876, p. 241; Ridgway, Auk, vol. vii.,
1890, p. 96 (crit.); Beal, Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, pp. 75-77 (part) (food); Tyler,
Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, pp. 81-82 (habits); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool.,
no. 12, 1914, pp. 168-170 (spring molt); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917,
Pp. 77 (on coastal islands).
EVEN as I sharpen my pencils prepared to “‘do”’ the Crown Sparrows
this crispish, bright October morning, the saucy rascals themselves are
besieging my studio with song. Their tuneful cohorts occupy every
point of vantage, the fence palings, the sage clumps, the lower branches
of the pepper tree. JI am quite beset. And how shall a bird-man write
soberly of breeding ranges or interscapular areas (very necessary to an
understanding of lewcophrys) amidst such a clatter of whistled hee hoos
and drawling recitative! I believe they are only half in earnest, the
courageous pretenders! A door flung open would send them madly
scurrying for cover, | warrant. A hush, a burst of wings, and thenceforth
Taken at Pasadena Photo by Donald R. Dickey
GAMBEL SPARROW, IMMATURE
SAY
The Gambel Sparrow
nothing but dzinks and
titters from the skulking
host. That would
never do. I[ will surren-
der at discretion instead
—surrender and play the
part of Burns’ chiel.1
Whee hee hee hee
wheooo hee; wheeoo he—
suddenly broken off;
Hoo hooee; wheeoo hoo
che wee che wee hee; chee
oo chee chee wee chee.
These imitations are
very stupid, of course—
about as expressive of
Zonotrichian melody as
a naked wire dummy is
of a man. The joy of
life, the tuneful modu-
lations, the vocal slide,
the clear fluting, and
the languorous content,
all are gone out of them.
Suffice to say that the
Gambel Sparrow has
manifest advantage in
song over his prosaic
cousin nuttalli, while he
fails to measure quite up
, iA este aes “ to the clear resonances
Taken at Pasadena Photo by Donald R. Dickey of Jeucophrys.
THE VANGUARD OF THE FRIENDLY HOST It is as flocking birds
that we know these ubiquitous Crowners best. They feed beside the
road or in the edges of fields, stealing out from cover one by one, not
without misgiving dzimks, until the ground is covered with them. Ata
sound, at a suspicion even, the flock rises noisily and bolts for shelter.
Secure in the depths of weed or bush, they wait silently until danger is
past, or if it does not pass, they begin to edge away or depart by ones
or twos or dozens for more distant fields. It is always provoking to the
bird-student, consciously guiltless of intent to harm, to have these prosy
1“The chiel’s amang them takin’ notes.”
328
The Gambel Sparrow
creatures, drabs now, treat him as though he were a hawk or the bearer
of a blunderbuss. There are a hundred birds lurking in this copse, but
as soon as one of them knows himself discovered, he dashes off like mad,
or as though there were a price upon his head.
Yet these same wild savages will respond to cultivation, after a
fashion. To secure the flock pictures shown herewith, we first built
a shallow bathing pool of cement sunk flush with the ground, then threw
out crumbs for bait. But Mrs. D. soon discovered their fondness for
corn meal, and thenceforth the Crown Sparrows became regular pen-
sioners at our door. The average daily attendance of these birds was
in the thirties, but I have counted as high as 47 feeding at one time
within ten feet of the kitchen door. A rank bush of achania, which at
first afforded the birds dense cover, and to which they retreated under
frequent alarm, soon showed such bad effects from the constant attrition
of their tiny feet, that we were obliged to cut it back severely, and so
destroy its immediate value as a covert. As it was, the bush was nearly
Taken at Los Colibris Photo by the Author
FEASTING ON CORN MEAL
The Gambel Sparrow
ruined, but the sport we had watching the antics of the sparrows amply
repaid any such loss.
The first to approach the feast were the young chaps, reckless
fellows, whose loss, apparently, didn’t matter so much to the community.
Then modest mothers ventured out, believing themselves safe where
their sons could go. Finally, when security was an established fact,
an old male, some chieftain, brilliant in alternating plumes of black and
Taken at Los Coltbris Photo by the Author
STILL SUSPICIOUS
white, strutted out. Before him the sedulous gleaners gave way, or if
they did not move fast enough to suit his lordship, he charged viciously
at the crowd and saw it flee in dismay. Gallantry, apparently, is a thing
reserved for springtime.
It would be difficult to exaggerate the abundance of Intermediate
Crown Sparrows, at least in southern California. In most sections
they are more abundant in winter than any other bird, and in some
localities I am persuaded that they outnumber, excluding the House
Finch, all other species combined. In migrations, too, they are excessive-
ly common; and although, like the White-crowned Sparrows, they are
destined for a romantic setting in the breeding season, an ice-bound
park in the Selkirks, or a pine-clad lake in the Yukon, they content
themselves with very humble surroundings en route. At the height
GIO
y
v
ne
S
Q
oe
ae)
eis
f=] oe
ons
LON
BA
S 2 &
a} es)
BS Ss
Q c
MN 2
3
5) B
:
3
OS
From a photograph, Cop
The Nuttall Sparrow
of the migrations the dullest stretch of sage-brush swarms with Crown
Sparrows; and the local population of Brewer Sparrows, Desert Sparrows,
and the like, must dread this annual inundation of hungry pilgrims.
No. 60a Nuttall’s Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 554b. Zonotrichia gambeli nuttalli Ridgway.
Synonyms.—Formerly called GAMBEL’s SPARROW. WHITE-CROWNED SPARROW
(name properly confined to Z. leucophrys). CROWN SPARROW.
Description.—Adulis: Like preceding, but general tone of coloration some-
what darker; streaks of back and scapulars deepest brown or blackish; general ground-
color of upperparts light olive-gray; median crown-stripe narrower; white of central
underparts less pure; axillars and bend of wing more strongly yellow. Bill yellowish
with dark tip. Jmmatures: Correspondingly darker than those of Z. leucophrys; the
upperparts toned with light olive-buff; the underparts somewhat tinged with yellowish.
Young birds: Similar to those of Z. leucophrys, but much darker,—brownish above,
buffy below. Length of adult males, 150-170 (5.90-6.70); wing 75 (2.95); tail 72 (2.83);
bill 11 (.43); tarsus 23.5 (.93). Females smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; black-and-white striping of crown dis-
tinctive in range; darker than preceding; lores not black.
Nesting.— Nest: A well wrought, deeply-cupped mass of weed-stems, grasses,
dead ferns, moss, or any vegetable waste, carefully lined with fine grasses or horse-
hair; placed on ground well concealed, or low in bushes. Measures outside 5-7 inches
(mm 127-178) over all, by 3% or 4 (mm 88.9 or 101.6) in depth; inside 214 to 3 inches
(mm 57.2 to 76) across, by 1% to 2 (mm 38 to 50.8) in depth. Eggs: 3 or 4; much
as in Z. leucophrys, but ground-color brighter, and markings both ruddier (cameo-
brown to chocolate) and heavier, with more frequent appearance of mottling. Av.
of 70 specimens from Humboldt County (M. C. O. Coll.) 20.7 x 16 (.815 x .62); ex-
treme 18.5-22.4 by 14.7-16.5 (.73-.88 by .58-.65). Season: April-July; one or two
broods.
Range of Z. g. nuttalli—Breeds in the Pacific Coast district from Port Simpson,
British Columbia, to Santa Barbara, California; winters occasionally on Puget Sound,
but chiefly from central Oregon south to Santa Margarita Island, Lower California.
Distribution in California.—Chiefly resident along the Pacific Coast, narrowly
but regularly south of the Golden Gate, presumably to Point Conception, with an
isolated station at Santa Barbara (Bowles), more broadly throughout the humid
Transition area north of San Francisco Bay. The western portion of the State is
inundated by winter visitors, but these are either confounded with local birds or lost
to notice (in the interior and the San Diegan district) in the crowd of Gambel Spar-
rows (Z. g. gambeli)—proportions in winter as compared with Gambel’s quite vari-
able.
Authorities.—Nuttall (Fringilla leucophrys), Manual Orn., ed. 2, vol. i., 1840,
Pp. 553 (part); Palmer, T. S., Auk, vol. ix., 1892, p. 310 (range); Ridgway, Auk, vol. xvi.,
1899, pp. 36-37 (renaming of nuttalli); Judd, Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 15, 1901, pp. 70-72
(food) ; Bolander, Condor, vol. viii., 1906, pp. 73-74; Beal, Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910,
PP. 75-77 (part) (food); Hubbs, Auk, vol. xxxv., 1918, pp. 321-326 (range in Calif.).
SSL
The Nuttall Sparrow
WHEN you enter a bit of shrub-
bery at the edge of town in April or
May, your intrusion is almost sure
to be questioned by a military gen-
tleman in a gray cloak with black-
and-white trimmings. Your business
may be personal, not public, but
somehow you feel as if the authority
of the law had been invoked, and
that you would better be careful how
you conduct yourself in the presence
of this military person. Usually re-
tiring, the Nuttall Sparrow courts
exposure where the welfare of his
family is in question, and a metallic
scolding note, zzzk, or dzink, is made
to do incessant service on such occa-
sions. A thoroughly aroused pair,
worms in beak, and crests uplifted,
may voice their suspicions for half an
hour from fir-tip and brush-pile,
without once disclosing the where-
abouts of their young.
Nuttall’s Sparrow is the familiar
spirit of brush-lots, fence tangles, Taken in Seattle Photo by the Author
berry patches, and half-open situa- NUTTALL SPARROW, FEMALE
tions in general. He is among the
last to quit the confines of the city
before the advancing ranks of apartment houses and sky-scrapers, and he
maintains stoutly any vantage ground of vacant lot, disordered hedge-
row, or neglected swamplet left to him. Even Golden Gate Park boasts
its breeding population of Nuttall Sparrows; and I have known them to
invade Union Square in the heyday of the spring migration. With the
local Song Sparrow he shares the honor of being the commonest sparrow in
the northwestern coastal strip of California; and in some places, no doubt
because of his less slavish attachment to water, nuttalli is more abundant
than Melospiza.
As a songster this sparrow is not a conspicuous success, although he
works at his trade with commendable diligence. He chooses a prominent
station, such as the topmost sprig of a redwood sapling, and holds forth at
regular intervals in a prosy, iterative ditty, from which the slight musical
quality vanishes with distance. Hee ho, chee weé, chee weé chee wééé and
a)5)
S32
The Nuttall Sparrow
Hee, wudge, 1-wudge 1-wudge 1-wéééé are vocalized examples. The prelim-
inary hee ho is sometimes clear and sweet enough to prepare one’s ear for
the Vesper Sparrow’s strain, but the succeeding syllables are tasteless, and
the trill with which the effort concludes has a wooden quality which we
may overlook in a friend, but should certainly ridicule in a stranger. No
doubt the fogs and bracing breezes which characterize our western coasts
Taken in Washington Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF NUTTALL SPARROW ON GROUND
are alike discouraging to vocal effort. At that, however, there is a notice-
able improvement in quality from north to south; and I am sure that the
birds of San Francisco Bay sing more sweetly than do those of Puget
Sound. I hazard it as a sober guess that if our ears were infallible, we
could tell within a few miles the locality from which our wintering birds
hail.
Gambel and Nuttall Sparrows mingle more or less in winter, at least
from San Francisco southward; and it is idle to try to separate them.
They are jolly fellows in a crowd; and if to the general excitement of early
springtime is added the special interest of bedtime, the noise these rascals
can make is fairly deafening. There is always hilarious discussion of
the merits of upper and lower berths; and when to their jostling notes—
woods woods a woods—are added sharp dzinks from the grouches, the
resulting babel compares favorably with Passer domesticus in Bedlam.
The local Nuttalls are nesting in late March or early April, before
SIS)
The Nuttall Sparrow
the northbound migrants have extricated themselves, or passed over their
heads. First nests are likely to be placed upon or near the ground, but
as the season advances the birds prefer the depths of low thickets, or
saplings, or even ferns. In the southern part of the range cypress trees
are effected, and one observer! records a nest thirty-five feet up in a
cypress. Of course two or three broods are raised in a season. The
M. C. O. has a set of three eggs taken on the 31st of October (1901) by
C. I. Clay on Humboldt Bay.
Taken in Humboldt County Photo by the Author
GATHERING CRUMBS IN CAMP
The nests themselves are usually substantial and often beautiful
affairs. The birds use almost any sort of material that comes to hand,—
bark-strips, twigs, grasses, bits of paper, rags, horsehair, and rootlets;
but good taste is almost invariably exercised. A nest before me is deco-
rated profusely with nodding grass-stems in flower, and the effect is as
dainty as that of a Parisian bonnet. The eggs, three or four, rarely five in
number, are of a handsome light green or bluish green shade, and are
heavily dotted, spotted, blotched or clouded with reddish brown.
Young birds lack the parti-colored head-stripes of the adult, although
the pattern is sketched in browns; and they are best identified by the
unfailing solicitude of the parents, which attends their every movement.
They are rather bumptious little creatures for all; a company of them
romping about a pasture fence brings a wholesome recollection of school-
boy days, and there are girls among them, too, for my! how they giggle!
1 Louis Bolander, ‘‘The Condor,”’ Vol. VIII., May, 1906, p. 74.
JS4
The White-throated Sparrow
No. 61
White-throated Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 558. Zonotrichia albicollis (Gmelin).
Synonym.—PEaApopy Birp.
Description.—Adult male: Pileum black, parted by a median stripe which is
white, or with some admixture of brownish posteriorly; a broad superciliary, yellow
anteriorly and white posteriorly; a post-ocular streak of black; throat white, abruptly
cut off below and bounded on sides (or not) by blackish rictal streak; malar region,
sides of neck, chest, and sides of breast neutral gray, darkest on sides of neck, shading
posteriorly into dull brownish buffy of sides and flanks, and whitish of central under-
parts; remaining upperparts dull brownish gray or drab, purest on rump and upper
tail-coverts; on the back highly varied by central black streaks and marginings of brown-
ish red (snuff-brown to Prout’s brown); the edge of wing yellow; the axillars white,
tinged with yellow; the middle and greater coverts tipped with white, forming bars.
Bill dusky above, paler below; irides brown; tarsi pale brown, feet a little darker.
Adult female: Like male and not always distinguishable, but usually somewhat
duller; the black of head admixed with brownish; the whites tinged with buffy; the
yellow over lores paler; the cheeks darker, more brownish. Immature birds: Like
dullest adult females, but still duller; the lateral crown-stripes more brown than black;
the whites more deeply tinged with buffy; the supraloral yellow duller; the white of
throat less pure and not sharply defined; the chest obscurely fine-barred with dusky.
Length of adult male about 171.5 (6.75); wing 75 (2.95); tail 73 (2.87); bill 11.4 (.45);
tarsus 23.5 (.93). Female a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size. Yellow spot over and in front of eye;
white throat sharply outlined against gray or blackish, distinctive.
Nesting.— Nest: Does not breed in California. Nest and eggs much as in
Z. leucophrys; but ground-color of eggs whitish or grayish white or dull bluish white,
instead of pale bluish green.
General Range.—Eastern North America, breeding from Massachusetts,
the mountains of Pennsylvania, central Wisconsin and northeastern Wyoming, north
to Great Bear Lake, Labrador, etc.; south in winter to Florida and northeastern Mex-
ico. Counted a straggler in Oregon, Utah, and Colorado, but may be of regular occur-
rence in southern California.
Occurrence in California.—A rare but probably a regular winter visitor.
Records from fourteen localities, all of them west of the Sierran divide, have been
assembled by Grinnell. During the author’s residence in Santa Barbara, they have
been recorded three different seasons, viz.: 1915 (in numbers), 1918-19, and 1919-20.
Authorities.—Emerson, Zoe, vol.i., 1890, p. 45 (Hayward); Bryant, W. E.,
ibid., p. 46 (San Francisco); McGregor, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 52
(Santa Rosa); Grinnell, Pasadena Acad. Sci. Pub., vol. ii., 1898, p. 37 (Los Angeles) ;
Wythe, Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, p. 101, vol. xxiii., 1921, p. 68 (Berkeley) ;Grinnell, Pac.
Coast Avifauna, no. 11, 1915, pp. 117-118 (summary of records to 1915).
SS)
WHITE-THROATED SPARROW
The Song Sparrows
DR. GRINNELL started out to keep a record of the California occur-
rences of the White-throated Sparrow, but the effort has become em-
barrassed with success; and we no longer know whether this year’s first
appearance will be the steenty-steenth or the umpty-umpth. It may bea
ruddier back or a flash of yellow on the lores, or the white throat itself,
clearly outlined against the surrounding dingy gray, which will first
attract your notice. But sometimes, if you will search diligently enough
among the assembled millions of the winter Zonotrichias, you will see a
White-throat. Do not be too easily satisfied about that white throat
either. Remember that the white must be sharply defined, not shading
off imperceptibly, as in adult leuwcophrys or coronata.
My own luck came so easily that I blush to record it, an adult bird
feeding, on the 8th of December, 1915, just outside my north study win-
dow, at a distance of eight feet. They were rather common at Santa
Barbara that winter, but try as I might, I could not pull off a singing
match between albicollis and coronata; and | do not know to this day
which of them shrills with most haunting sweetness.
In the East, where White-throat lets himself out, he is quite a famous
singer. ‘‘In springtime the song proper is perfected, as we suppose, before
the birds leave for the higher latitudes. It consists normally of six drawl-
ing, mournful, whistled notes, of which the last three or four have a
slightly tremulous quality. The initiatory note is either much lower or a
little higher than the others, which are given on one key or else descend
by fractional tones. The whole may be represented as, Oh dear, dear,
de-e-ear, de-e-ear, de-ear, or Hoo, he-ew, he-ew, he-e-e-ew, he-e-ew, he-e-ew.
Most western writers, when consulted upon this point, dutifully repeat the
tradition, said to have originated in New England, that the bird says
‘Peabody, peabody, peabody, and hence is properly called the Peabody
Bird. One cannot predict what may happen further north or east, but I
lift the voice of one crying in the wilderness that the bird does not utter
anything remotely resembling the word Peabody while in Ohio.”’ (Birds
of Ohio.)
No. 62
Song Sparrow
EUPHONIAS and Pyrrhuloxias and Volatinias are very beautiful, no
doubt, but there is a little brown-streaked bird of modest mien whose
image is conjured up by the word “‘home,”’ and whose homely, honest song
SOM
The Song Sparrows
would bring glad tears to the eyes of any
American wandering amid tropic delights.
Disregarding for the nonce those subtle and
fleeting characters of difference which oblige
us in California to speak of the Song Spar-
rows, let us fix our attention upon the bird
itself, the Song Sparrow. For where is the
bird-lover whose face does not unconsciously
relax, or whose heart does not turn tender
at the mere
mention of
this magic
name, Song
Sparrow! He
is the poet of
common day.
He is the
familiar of
childhood; for
knowledge of
Photo by Donald R. Dickey J
him comes at
SONG SPARROW ON ° °
ROSE BUSH a time of life
when one can
poke about
without rebuke in little cool dingles, or,
perchance, accompany recreant water-
courses in their perilous journeys to the sea.
Familiar he surely is to most of us
even though his close dependence upon
water and cover prevents reckless flights in
the open, after the manner of Linnets and
Goldfinches, or the special consolation of brickbats affected by Passer
domesticus. Although his coat is normally striped like the weedy mazes, or
like the pattern of light on the cattails, which he oftenest inhabits, it bears
eloquent testimony elsewhere to the power of sun or shade. On the burn-
ing beaches of the Salton Sink our Song Sparrow is bleached to the color
of a pale cinder,—ash with a few streaks of ochre. In the redwood forests
of Mendocino the same bird looks like a wood-brown fragment of a
mouldering log, streaked or blackened by rain. Everywhere he is in har-
mony with nature, as if he knew her secrets and were admitted to her
counsels.
Water loving, as a species, throughout their American range, the
338
Taken in Pasadena
The Song Sparrows
Song Sparrows of California are even more notably attached to water.
Only in the extreme Northwest, where conditions of humidity are wide-
spread, do they suffer themselves to range above half a mile or so from
some stream or swamp or saline marsh. A plot of their distribution in
summer, therefore, would look like a partial blue print of our hydrographic
system. Only a partial one, however, for Melospiza is unaccountably
absent from considerable and well-watered areas of our State. Thus, there
are no resident Sparrows in the Sacramento Valley; and they are
exceedingly scarce in the western foothills of the Sierras. Even in the
interior the bird exhibits a strong aquatic tendency. Not only will the
bird build its nests in tussocks entirely surrounded by water, but it will
itself plash about carelessly in shallow water; and it sometimes seizes and
devours small minnows. This hydrophilous tendency has become espec-
ially fixed in the saline marshes bordering upon San Francisco Bay. The
extreme example is found in the Alameda Song Sparrow (M. m. pusillula),
which scarcely deserts the salicornia barrens for a single hour, and which
rears its young, as it gleans its
living, on the brink of the
tide channels.
Silver-tongue is
alsomambindasotethe
ground and contig-
uous levels.
When hiding he
does not seek the
depths of the fol-
Taken in Pasadena Photo by Donald R. Dickey
“HIS COAT IS NORMALLY STRIPED LIKE THE WEEDY MAZES"
SY
The Song Sparrows
iage in trees, but skulks among the dead leaves on the ground, or threads
his way through log heaps. If driven from one covert the bird dashes to
another with an odd, jerking flight, working its tail like a pump-handle as
though to assist progress. Ordinarily the bird is not fearful, although
retiring in disposition. Bug-catching claims a great deal of attention, and
the tules, at least, must be very grateful for the incessant purging of insect
pests, especially grubs, which is contrived by this indefatigable gardener.
The Song Sparrow is not above scratching for a living either. At this task
he kicks with both feet,
after the fashion ap-
proved by Pzpilo and
others. He makes a bus-
iness of it, too, for every
once in a while a clod
flies out behind as
though it had been flung
from a buzz-saw.
An unending suc-
cession of weed-seed goes
to make up the bill-of-
fare, and occasionally, of
course, a little fallen
grain. Once I sat behind
a blind on the margin of
a shallow lake and baited
up the ducks with wheat
for photographic pur-
poses. The ducks came
readily enough, but a
Song Sparrow consti-
tuted herself mistress of
ceremonies and inter-
fered with my plan sadly.
The Song Sparrow hap-
pened to know there was
a caged monster inside
that blind, whereas the
larger birds merely sus-
pected it. Every once
: in a while, therefore, the
Taken in Santa Barbara County Photo by the Author Sparrow came near My
“MEANWHILE, MANAGED TO SECURE A VERY COMFORTABLE MEAL" blind and set up a great
370
The Song Sparrows
outcry, as though I were
pulling her hair or some-
thing, and the fowls scat-
tered for their lives.
Once the Sparrow flew
over their heads yelling
bloody murder! And
that time the wheat-eat-
ers were so scared it took
them ten minutes to re-
cover. The Sparrow,
meanwhile, managed to
secure a very comfort-
able meal. Now wasn’t
that clever!
It is as a songster,
however, that we know
this sparrow best. | Sil-
ver-tongue’s melody is
like sunshine, bountiful
and free and ever grate-
ful. Mounting some bush
or upturned root, he
greets his childish listen-
ers with ‘‘Peace, peace,
peace be unto you, my
children.” And that is
his message to all the
world, “Peace and good-
will.” Once on Puget
Sound, we sat storm-
bound at the mouth of ee ’
our tent, and, mindful Taken in Ventura Photo by Donald R. Dickey
of the unused cameras, SAN DIEGO SONG SPARROW, MOTHER AND BROOD
grumbled at the eternal
drizzle. Whereupon the local poet flitted to a favorite perch on a stump
hard by, and, throwing back his head, sang, with sympathetic earnestness,
“Cheer up! Cheer up! Count your many mercies now.’ Of course he
did say exactly that, and the childish emphasis he put upon the last word
set us to laughing, my partner and me, until there was no more thought
of complaint.
341
The Song Sparrows
Taken in Santa Barbara Photo by the Author
“THE FIRST TO RESPOND”
Even in winter the _ brave-
hearted bird avails himself of the
slightest pretext—the passing of
clouds or a rise in temperature—to
mount a bush and rehearse his cheer-
ful lay. The song is not continuous,
but it is frequently repeated through
periods of several minutes, and is
followed by little intervals of placid
contemplation.
But no matter how gentle a
bird’s disposition may be, there is
ample use, alack! for the note of
warning and distrust. When, there-
fore, the Song Sparrow’s nesting
haunts are invaded, the bird emits
a chtp or chirp, still musical, indeed,
but very anxious. In winter, resi-
dent birds deny themselves even this
characteristic cry; and, except for
the occasional outbursts of full song,
they are limited to a high nasal fss,
which seems to serve the purpose of
a flocking, or recognition, call. Song
Sparrows are not really gregarious
birds; nor are they even seen in close
proximity save in mating time, but
they like to assure themselves, never-
theless, that a dozen of their fellows
are within call against a time of need.
Song Sparrows are among the
very first to respond when the bird-
man ‘‘screeps” like a mishandled
nestling, in the depths of the swamp.
If he is well hidden, the reeds are soon astir with excited quest and still
more excited chirps of baffled inquiry. Even when the hoax has been
discovered, the incensed house-mother will scarcely forgive, but publishes
her discomposure to the swamp for an hour afterwards.
Save in favored localities, such as the margins of a tule swamp, nests
of the California Song Sparrows are not obtrusively common. ‘‘Back
East,’ in a season of all around nesting, about one-fifth of the nests found
would be those of the Song Sparrow. Not so in the West, for where
342
The Song Sparrows
cover is scarce, the bird is also; and where cover abounds, it is likely to
be so heavy as to make discovery difficult or well-nigh impossible. Nest-
ing begins ordinarily about April first, though in the extreme South nests
have been recorded in February. First nests are likely to be placed low,
either upon the ground, well covered with old vines or grasses, or else in
a tussock of grass in a swamp. As the season advances and cover in-
creases, any site near water is welcomed,—brush heaps, vine tangles,
dense saplings, or even trees up to twenty feet. Incubation requires only
twelve days and the young are ready to fly in as many more, so that a
devoted pair is able to raise two or three and sometimes four broods in
a season.
At this rate we should be overrun with Song Sparrows if there were
not so many agencies to hold the species in check. A young Song Sparrow
is the choice morsel of everything that preys,—cats, skunks, weasels,
chipmunks, foxes, Sharp-shinned Hawks, Crows, Magpies, Blue-fronted
Jays, and garter snakes. How would this motley company fare were it
not for the annual crop of Song Sparrows? And the wonder of it is that
the brave heart holds out and sings its song of trust and love with the
ruins of three nests behind it and the harvest not yet past.
Other enemies they have, no doubt, beyond our ken. On April 7th,
1917, an M. C. O. collector took a singing male San Diego Song Sparrow
from a low stump west of Santa Barbara. Judge of our astonishment
to find three ticks of the common variety firmly embedded in the flesh
of the bird’s head. The largest insect was swelled to the size of a currant,
and the three together would eventually, I should suppose, have caused
the bird’s death.
No. 62a Yakutat Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581n. Melospiza melodia caurina Ridgway.
Description.—Adults (sexes alike): Like the next to be described, but larger
and darker, the streaks of underparts and sides of breast blackish centrally, their
edgings dark grayish brown, the white of underparts sordid, tinged with gray. Bill
longer and slenderer.
Nesting of Melospiza melodia.— Nest: A substantial structure of twigs, weed-
stems, grasses, coiled bark-strips, ferns, dead leaves, etc.; lined carefully with fine
dead grass, rootlets, or horsehair; placed indifferently in bushes or on the ground,
or, more rarely, in crannies, excavations in stumps, or low in trees. Eggs: 3 to 6;
in California usually 3 or 4; greenish-, grayish-, or bluish-white, spotted sparingly
or heavily or blotched with reddish browns—types exceedingly variable, but ap-
parently without local significance beyond the fact that those of races from arid re-
gions tend toward paleness, and those from humid regions toward depth and intensity
of color. Av. size of species about 21 x 15.5 (.83 x .61), but varies roughly with that
FFB.
The Song Sparrows
of parent bird. Eggs of pusillula, for example, are notably smaller than those of
caurina, etc. Season: April (March, saltonis) —July; two or three broods.
General Range of Welospiza melodia—North America from Alaska and central
eastern Canada south to southern border of Mexican plateau.
Range of WW. m. caurina.—Breeds along the coast of the St. Elias district in
Alaska from Yakutat Bay to Lituya Bay (Ridgway); winters on the coasts and islands
of southeastern Alaska (vicinity of Juneau: Swarth); and irregularly southward.
Occurrence in California.—Two records: Eureka, Feb. 20, 1910, by C. I.
Clay (Grinnell); and Fortuna, Humboldt County, Sept. 19, 1915, by Huey.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Condor, vol. xii., 1910, p. 174 (Eureka); Swarth, Univ.
Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. vii., 1911, p. 90 (Alaska; crit.); Dickey, Condor, vol. xxiv., 1922,
p. 65 (Fortuna, Humboldt Co.).
AT THE OUTSET of our study of the particular races of Melospiza
melodia we are confronted by a form which is not only strikingly different
in appearance from any of our resident birds, but highly specialized in
habits as well. Cawrina hails from that most inhospitable coast of Alaska
which borders the St. Elias Range. And because the major valleys are
occupied by glaciers, and the smaller water-courses are too steep or too
barren to afford suitable cover, the Yakutat Song Sparrow is confined to
the narrow fringe of the sea-beaches. And because the winters here are
more severe than elsewhere, caurina forsakes its summer home, displacing
yujina in the northern portions of the latter’s range, and straggling irregu-
larly southward.
The extreme southern example, and the only recorded specimen for
California, a female (now in the M. C. O. collection), was taken February
20, 1910, near Eureka, in Humboldt County, by C. Irvin Clay. Mr. Clay
first saw the bird on January 17th, and noted it on four subsequent occa-
sions previous to capture. It haunted a certain stretch of beach, and
was so devoted to it that it would return by a circuitous route as often
as it was crowded out of bounds; and it took care when pursued to slip
along under cover of the driftwood, guiding its course by sundry peri-
scopic glimpses over logs, and taking to wing only when close pressed.
This attachment to the beach would in itself distinguish an Alaskan
visitor; but caurina is a half larger than cleonensis, the resident form, and
very much darker.
No. 62b Rusty Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581e and 581f. Melospiza melodia rufina (Bonaparte).
Synonym.—Soorty SonG Sparrow (applied to northern section of species).
Description.—Adults (sexes alike) in fresh fall plumage, and Immatures: As
compared with interior races, pattern of upperparts and sides much blended, the
344
OT he Song Sparrows rk
of parent bird. Eggs of pusilula, for example, are notably snculee than ‘those of
~ caurina, etc... Seasan; ~ April (March, saltonts) ~July; two or three broods.
General Range of Melospiza melodia.-North America {rom Alaska and rede:
_ eastern Canada south to southern border of Mexican plateau.
Range of MM. m. canrina—Breeds along the coast of the St. Elias district i
Alaska from Yakutat Bay to Lituva Bay (Ridgway); winters on the coasts and islands
of southeastern Alaska (vicinity of Juneatt: Swarth); and irregularly southward.
Occurrence in California.-Two records: Eureka, Feb. 20, 1910, by C. I.
Clay (Grinnell); and Fortuna, Humboldt County, Sept. 19, 1915, by Huey.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Condor. vol. xii., 1910, p. 174 (Eureka) ; Swarth, eee cr a
Calif. Pub. Zool:, vol. vii., 193%, p. go (Alaska; crit.); Dickey, Condor, vol. xxiv., 1922,
p. 65 (Fortuna, Humboldt Co.). 5
AT THE OUTSET of our study of the particular races of Melospiza
melodia we are confronted by a form which is not only strikingly different
in appearance from any of our resident birds, but highly specialized in
habits as well, Caurina hails from that most tahogpitanle coast of Alaska
which borders the St. Elias Range. And because the major valleys are
occupied by glaciers, and the smaller water-courses are too steep or too
barren. to afford suitable cover, the Yakutat Song Sparrow is confined to
the narrow fringe of the sea-beaches. And becatise the winters here are
more severe than elsewhere, caurina forsakes its summer home, displacing
‘yujine in the northern Ce of the latter’s range, and straggling irregu-
larly southward.
The extreme southesd par peas the misiiet recorded specimen for
California, a female {now i in cite gut ~ollection), was taken February
20, 1910, near Eureka? Teint lor inti Rea Maier Gre an Clay, Mr. Clay
first saw the bird on January 17th, and noted it on four subsequent occa-.
sions previous to capture. It haunted a certain stretch of beach, and
was so devoted to it that it would return by a circuitous route as often”
as it was crowded out of bounds; and it took care when pursued to slip
along under cover of the driftwood, guiding its course by sundry peri-
scopic glimpses over logs, and taking to wing only when close pressed.
This attachment to the beach would in itself distinguish an Alaskan
visitor; but caurina is a half larger than cleonensis, the resident form, and
very much darker.
Ne. 626 Rusty Song Sparrow
A. OW U. No. 581e and 581f. Melospiza melodia rufina (Bonaparte).
Synoenym.—Soory Sons SPapRow, cléments aHule Feb? (BSpyO" of species).
Deseription.—Adulis (sexes alilexiMartysddult/temaieige. and Immatures: As Ns
compared with interior Falienise Ak Fond upperparts and sides much blended, the *~
FE cleonensis, immature male (bottom)
The Song Sparrows
general tone of color olive-brown, reddening slightly on pileum (where sometimes
separated by a faint median line of grayish), upper tail-coverts, and edgings of wings
and tail; feathers of back and scapulars blackish centrally; a superciliary line (lightest
in front) grayish white; cheeks varied by whitish on a brown ground; below white,
clearest on chin, lower throat, and abdomen, elsewhere, especially on sides of throat,
chest, and sides, heavily streaked with warm brown (Prout’s brown to bister), heavily
washed on sides and flanks with ochraceous buffy; tibia and crissum ochraceous-
rusty with darker centers. Bill blackish above, lighter on mandible; feet dark brown-
ish. Juvenals somewhat resemble parents, but show more “‘pattern’’ above, with
heightened contrasts of black and rusty. They are more highly, finely, and uniformly
streaked below with blackish, and are tinged with yellowish buff. Length about
162.5 (6.40): wing 66 (2.60); tail 65 (2.56); bill 12.7 (.50); tarsus 17 (.67).
Remark.—A form, WM. m. morphna, has been described by Oberholser from west-
ern British Columbia and Washington. Northern specimens of rufina may average
slightly larger than those resident on Puget Sound, but the color pattern is singularly
uniform from Cross Sound south to the upper limits of Puget Sound. The subspecies
is probably non-migratory in the southern portion of its range; so that specimens
taken in California in winter hail from western Alaska; so if there is a recognizable
form morphna, there is no evidence that it invades California.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; heavy streaking of breast and sides fairly
distinctive, save for the Fox Sparrows (Passerella iliaca group), from which it may
be further distinguished by white superciliary line, smaller size, and more active
behavior.
Range of MM. m. rufina—Breeds from the coasts and islands of southeastern
Alaska south to western Washington; winters from southern British Columbia and
Washington south to the humid coast belt of California.
Occurrence in California.—Regular winter visitor in the northwestern humid
coast belt, south to San Francisco Bay; casual at Riverside (Swarth) and Claremont
(Pierce).
Authorities.—Audubon (Fringilla cinerea), Orn. Biog., vol. v., 1839, p. 22,
pl. 390, fig. 1; Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1909, p. 229 (Alaska; habits,
nest and eggs, nomencl.); Swarth, Condor, vol. xii., 1910, p. 108 (Riverside); Kellogg,
Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 120 (Tower House, Shasta Co.; crit.); Allen, Condor, vol.
XXii., 1920, p. 16 (migr.); Pierce, Condor, vol. xxii., July, 1920, p. 156.
CALIFORNIA Song Sparrows are sedentary save in the territory
east of the Sierras, where increased altitudes and lower temperatures
enforce evacuation in winter. In like manner, upon the Pacific Coast
proper a point is reached, somewhere to the north of us, where the rigors
of winter institute a migratory impulse in the Song Sparrows. The
reaction to this impact may be of two sorts: Either the birds, slightly
discommoded, move a few miles southward and rest content; or else they
may flee wildly southward until they reach some totally different environ-
ment, and one in which they feel entirely secure. These two forms of
compulsory movement do actually manifest themselves, and, probably,
every gradation between. Two races of the Song Sparrow living to the
345
Taken in Seattle
The Song Sparrows
Photo by the Author
“A BIRD OF MODEST MIEN”
north of us—viz., morph-
na, whose range ex-
tends from the Columbia
River to southernmost
Alaska; and rufina,
which occupies the
southeastern coastal
strip of Alaska north to
CrossSound—intergrade
so perfectly that some
authorities, Grinnell, for
example, decline to sepa-
rate them at all. But
the final test of differ-
ence may prove to be
other than somatic. The
degree of participation
in migration may help to
determine the difference
between hypothetical
morphna and rufina. All
we know so far is that
the Song Sparrows of
western Washington,
morphna, are partially
sedentary, perhaps
wholly so in the south-
ern portion of their
range; whereas rufina
forsakes the northern
portions of its range,—
the Cross Sound and
Sitka districts—out-
right. The probabilities
are that the migratory
movement of morphna-
rujina is, therefore, high-
ly composite, that the
southern extreme is stable, while the northern end is forced down by a
telescoping motion which projects now one element and now another of
the composite mass into northern California.
The variable character of
the material taken in winter in California supports this hypothesis, while
346
The Song Sparrows
it tends to obscure the operation of the saturating tendency, which
increases steadily from Puget Sound to Sitka. Personally, I have no
question that morphna is a valid form, and that California-taken speci-
mens hailing, let us say, from the coast of British Columbia are referable
to morphna rather than to rujfina.
No. 62ce Oregon Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581p, part. Melospiza melodia phza Fisher.
Description.—Similar to M. m. rufina, but color-pattern of upperparts less
blended, more highly developed, by reason of strengthened gray edgings and of blackish
centers on back and inner quills. Breeding birds from the Oregon coast show closer
affinities with rufina (or morphna) than with cleonensis.
Range of M/. m. phea.—Breeding and partially resident along the west coast
of Oregon and southern Washington; irregularly southward in winter.
Occurrence in California.—A winter visitor at least in extreme northern
portion of humid coast belt (W. K. Fisher), irregularly (?) southward through unde-
fined area (San Mateo County, Nov. 25, 1900, Grinnell).
Authorities.—Fisher, Condor, vol. iv., 1902, p. 36 (orig. desc.; type locality,
Gardiner, Ore.; spec. from Crescent City); Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. IT, 1915,
p. 123 (Pescadero Cr., San Mateo Co.); Brown, Auk, vol. xxxv., 1918, p. 350 (Placerita
Cafion, Los Angeles Co.).
No. 624 Mendocino Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581p, part. Melospiza melodia cleonensis McGregor.
Description.—Quite different from preceding form by reason of emerging
color-pattern; nearest like M/. m. gouldi. General tone of upperparts and sides of head
and neck, as determined by edgings, tawny olive or Saccardo’s umber; pileum (parted
by cream-buffy middle line), wing-coverts, and edgings of tail and wings Prout’s
brown; feathers of back, scapulars, and inner tertials black with tawny olive edgings;
a supraloral spot white, continued as grayish superciliary line; underparts basally
white, clear only on middle of breast; chin and throat only slightly flecked with dusky;
sides of throat, breast, and sides of breast heavily marked with rusty or tawny olive
streaks having black centers; flanks and crissum heavily tinged with clay-color and
streaked with dusky. Here begins to emerge the familiar Song Sparrow type. Length
of adult (skins) 137 (5.40); wing 60 (2.36); tail 59 (2.32); bill 11.9 (.47); tarsus 22
(.866).
Range of M. m. cleonensis (Wholly within California)—Common resident
chiefly of fresh-water marshes in humid coast belt from Crescent City south (at least)
to Mendocino City; ‘‘casual in autumn at Olema, Marin County’’ (Grinnell).
Authorities.—McGregor, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol.i., 1899, p. 87 (orig. desc. ;
Westport, Mendocino Co.); Fisher, Condor, vol. iv., 1902, p. 134 (distr.; crit.);
J. Mailliard, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 199 (habits).
IN THIS race we begin to see the approach of “saturation,” or dark-
ening of plumage, occasioned by increasing humidity, or rather by the
S4/
The Song Sparrows
corresponding withdrawal of sunlight. Yet the wonder is that the Men-
docino-Humboldt birds are not darker, for the magnificent forests of
redwood, whose trees number their rings by centuries,! are a living witness
that the region has long been one of excessive rainfall. Perhaps, after all,
Melospiza melodia is not such a “‘plastic’’ form as we had supposed. At
any rate, we get here a vivid conception of the enormous stretches of time
at Nature’s disposal, and some idea of her patience. If a thousand years
(at the least) are required to alter a shade so slightly that its recognition
is still debatable, how many millenniums must have elapsed since the
“Sooty” Song Sparrow (M. m. rufina) began to occupy the coast of Alaska!
No. 62e Marin Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581d, part. Melospiza melodia gouldi Baird.
Description.—Similar to M. m. cleonensis, but less rufescent, the black element
much stronger on feathers of back, scapulars, and exposed quills, that of pileum taking
form of streaks alternating with browns; the streaking of underparts also more de-
cidedly black, often scarcely rufescent on edges.
Range (Wholly within California)—Common resident on fresh-water marshes
and streams immediately to the north of San Francisco Bay, chiefly in Marin and
Sonoma counties; north coastwise to Gualala, Mendocino County, interiorly to Mt.
Sanhedrin, Cahto, and Ukiah, east to Vacaville and Rumsey (Yolo County) (Grin-
nell).
Authorities.—Baird, Pac. R. R. Rep., vol. ix., 1858, p. 479 (orig. desc. ; ‘‘Califor-
nia’); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1909, p. 267 (desc.; crit.).
No. 62f Samuel’s Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581d, part. Melospiza melodia samuelis (Baird).
Description.—Similar to MW. m. gouldi, but black element still further strength-
ened throughout, the streaking of breast, sides, etc., usually without trace of other
color.
Range (Wholly within California)—‘‘Abundant resident on salt marshes
along the north side of San Francisco Bay, from Larkspur, Marin County, through
Sonoma and Napa Counties to Vallejo, Solano County; also on south side of San
Pablo Bay, at Selby and Pinole, Contra Costa County.’’—Grinnell.
Authorities.—Baird (A mmodromus samuelis), Proc. Soc. Nat. Hist., vol. vi.,
1858, p. 379 (orig. desc.; Petaluma) ; McGregor, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i, 1899, p. 87
(crit.); Grinnell, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 92 (crit.); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol.
Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, p. 84, part (food).
1“Very long-lived but greatest age undetermined. * * * A tree 20 feet in diameter and 350 feet high
showed an age of 1000 years. Another tree 20 feet in diameter was 1373 years old.'’-—Sudworth, Forest Trees of the
Pacific Slope, p. 146.
348
The Song Sparrows
No. 62g Suisun Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581s. Melospiza melodia maxillaris Grinnell.
Description.—Similar to M. m. samuelis, but decidedly larger; bill much shorter,
tumescent at base. Plumage shows slight reduction of blacks, and streaking of under-
parts shows traces of rufescent bordering. As compared with M. m. heermanni,
maxillaris shows darker coloring with broader black markings, and base of maxilla
more swollen. Measurement of type, a male: wing 63.7 (2.51); tail 62 (2.44); bill
12.9 (.51); depth at base 7.6 (.30); tarsus 21.8 (.86).
Range (Wholly within California)—‘‘Common resident of the marshes sur-
rounding Suisun Bay, more particularly from the vicinity of the confluence of the
Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers west to Benicia and Port Costa where abruptly
delimited.’’—Grinnell.
Authority.—Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1909, p. 265 (Suisun;
orig. desc.).
I HAVE never seen the Suisun Song Sparrow. I suppose I never
shall. It is said to favor certain types resident a few miles up the river
rather than its neighbor, samuelis, on the Sonoma shore. A closer
attention to this fascinating subject of the subdivision of Song Sparrows
will doubtless eventuate in a pet species for every water-hole in California;
and may ultimately necessitate the establishment of a chair of Com-
parative Melospiziology at Berkeley. Heigh ho! I wonder if the simple-
hearted Song Sparrow, he of the silver tongue, suspects what a bother
he is to us poor scientists!
No. 62h Salt Marsh Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 5811. Melospiza melodia pusillula Ridgway.
Synonym.—ALAMEDA SONG SPARROW.
Description.—Similar to M. m. samuelis, but slightly smaller; spotting of
underparts slightly more rufescent upon the margins. Ridgway, in describing this
subspecies (Birds of N.& M.Am., vol. i., p. 370), claims the precise opposite, namely,
that the markings of pusillula are less rufescent; but the abundant material in the
M. V. Z. collection certainly does not sustain his contention. Immature birds are
unique in displaying a yellowish suffusion of the underparts, which character is neces-
sarily carried until the second autumn (since the species has but one annual molt).
Measurements of adult males: wing 57.9 (2.28); tail 62.5 (2.46); bill 11.2 (.44). Fe-
males average smaller.
Range (Wholly within California)—Resident on or near the southern por-
tion of San Francisco Bay, from San Francisco to West Berkeley.
Authorities.—Ridgway, Auk, vol. xvi., 1899, p. 35 (orig. desc.; Alameda Co.) ;
McGregor, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 87 (desc.; crit.) ; Grinnell, Condor,
vol. ili., 1901, p. 92 (habits; crit.) ; Cohen, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 185 (nesting dates).
THE RECOGNITION of a dwarf race, pusillula, from the marshes
of San Francisco Bay was a clever piece of work, and the race so dis-
379
The Song Sparrows
Taken in Santa Barbara Photo by the Author
SONG SPARROW ABOVE SALICORNIA
NoT M. m. pusillula, but M. m. cooperi IN A BRACKISH MARSH,
“THE ESTERO”
tinguished is the more
interesting because it
sets at defiance one of
the foremost canons of
Song Sparrowdom; viz.,
that individuals shall in-
crease in size northerly.
Thus, the San Diego
Song Sparrow, M. m.
cooperi, has a wing
length of mm 63; rufina
of British Columbia,
mm 68; caurina from
Yakutat Bay, mm 72;
and the giant sanaka
from the Aleutians, mm
85. The Aleutian Song
Sparrow is, thus, more
than twice as big a bird
as ours in southern Cali-
fornia. Pusillula’s wing
length, as given by Pro-
fessor Robert Ridgway,
the original describer, is
only mm 58.4.
Life with pusillula has
been reduced to very
simple terms. ‘There’
in a salt marsh, is just
the same as ‘here,’ so
where is the use of fash-
ing one’s self about quick
transportation? No
need; ergo, arrested wing
development; that is,
shorter wings.
That substantially uniform conditions have prevailed for ages in
the marshes of San Francisco Bay, there can be no doubt. Today an
intricate system of tidal arteries and capillaries supplies moisture to
acres of salicornia, a succulent round-stemmed plant growing in rank
profusion to a height of one or two feet; and each of these sodden acres
harbors a legion of molluscs, nemertines and crustaceans. There is
GIO
The Song Sparrows
nothing else to speak of—a dreary waste, of interest chiefly to Rails and
Salt Marsh Song Sparrows. The latter haunt the oozy slopes of the
tide-guts and snatch dainties from a salty menu, keeping a sharp eye,
meanwhile, not to get their toes nipped by lurking crabs. Their bibs
get pretty badly stuck up with salicornia juice and the ever generous
odze; but brackish pools are ever handy for ablution and a chance at
minnows besides. Then in the springtime, because the salicornia is
really impossible, the Lord sends a little green bush for a nesting site.
The bush must have a Latin name, but it is unknown to the deponent.
It is ordained to be a little greener and a little taller than the salicornia,
and if it suits the Song Sparrow, as it certainly does, we will call it the
Salt Marsh Song Sparrow Nesting Bush (or Busha pusillule for short,
if our Latin friends insist). Anyhow, all one has to do during the first
week in April is to visit every little green bush growing in the San Fran-
cisco marshes, and gather Salt Marsh Song Sparrows’ eggs, or “‘infor-
mation,’ according to the state of his development. The nests are there,
and the information easy—also uniform. The eggs are, of course,
indistinguishable from those of other forms; but the nests are unique, in
that they are composed of plastic or sodden strands of some sort of marsh
waste which, upon drying, forms a sturdy and uncommonly durable
structure.
No. 62i Santa Cruz Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581d, part. Melospiza melodia santzcrucis Grinnell.
Description.— Most like the next to be described, but smaller. Also similar
to M. m. pusillula, but much larger; the juvenal but not the immature (final autumnal)
plumage suffused with buffy yellow; the contrast in this regard between two adjacent
“‘races’’ of one species, and those existing continuously within sight of each other,
gives food for reflection. Measurements of males (orig. desc.): wing 61.2 (2.41);
tail 67.5 (2.66); bill 11.4 (.45). Females smaller.
Range (Wholly in California).—Resident chiefly on fresh-water marshes and
along streams in the Santa Cruz district, from San Francisco south to the Sur River
in Monterey County, east to include the Santa Clara valley, and north to Berkeley,
south interiorly to Shandon and Santa Margarita in San Luis Obispo County (where
shading into M. m. coopert).
Authorities.—Grinnell, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 92 (orig. desc.; Palo Alto);
ibid., Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, I915, p. 125 (range; crit.).
No. 62) San Diego Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581m. Melospiza melodia cooperi Ridgway.
Description.—A dults (sexes alike) and Immatures: Above and on sides mingled
olive-gray, olive-buff, rusty red, and black, the olive-gray element strongest anteriorly,
the olive-buff posteriorly, the black element existing centrally on feathers, sharpest
on pileum, broadest on back, scapulars, and exposed portions of tertials, the rusty
element, as Prout’s brown, bordering feathers of pileum, exposed portion of greater
SH!
The Song Sparrows
wing-coverts, and outer edging of tertials, as dull cinnamon, on exposed edges of flight-
feathers and rectrices; underparts basally white, clearest on chin, throat, and middle
of breast; sides of throat, chest, sides, flanks, and posterior portions strongly tinged
Taken in San Diego Photo by Donald R. Dickey
NEST AND EGGS OF SAN DIEGO SONG SPARROW IN THISTLES
with buffy or pinkish buff, and heavily streaked with black or blackish, more or less
tinged and bordered with rusty; pattern of head obscurely 12-radial, by reason of crown
parted by gray median line, white ‘‘eyebrows’’ (supraloral region, continued as gray
35?
The Song Sparrows
superciliary), dusky lores and cheek (the latter mingled with whitish), buffy malar
stripe, blackish submaxillary stripes, and white chin. Juvenals: Somewhat like
adults, but olive-gray of upperparts wanting; margining of feathers chiefly pale clay-
color; underparts suffused with pale ochraceous buffy; the black streaks much narrower.
Bill blackish above, lighter below; feet and tarsi light brown. Measurements, adult
male (after Grinnell): wing 62.7 (2.47); tail 71.4 (2.81); bill 11.9 (.27). Females
average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; the 12-radial pattern of head, with striped
appearance above serves to distinguish from birds of the Passerella group. Somewhat
like the Lincoln Sparrow (Melospiza lincolni), but longer and more coarsely patterned—
the streaks below much broader and tending to confluence on sides of throat.
Range.—Resident in the San Diego district, broadly defined, from southern
San Luis Obispo County and the Cuyama valley south to San Quentin, Lower Cali-
fornia, east to the desert divides, and even invading both the Mohave (Victorville,
Yermo) and Colorado deserts (mouth of Palm Canyon) (Grinnell and Swarth).
Authorities.—Cooper (Melospiza heermanni, part), Orn. Cal., 1870, p. 212;
Fisher, N. Am. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, p. 100; Ridgway, Auk, vol. xvi, 1899, p. 35 (orig.
desc.; San Diego); Myers, Condor, vol. xii., 1910, p. 165 (method of feeding young);
Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 84 (distr.; nesting dates); Grinnell and
Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. x., 1913, p. 279 (crit.).
No. 62k San Clemente Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581i. Melospiza melodia clementze C. H. Townsend.
Description.—Similar to M. m. cooperz, but much paler; the olive-gray element
of the upperparts greatly increased, the blacks reduced, and reds faded; streaks on
underparts finer, the buffy suffusion much reduced, the remainder more pinkish.
Size (after Ridgway): wing 64.8 (2.55); tail 64 (2.52); culmen 12.2 (.48); tarsus 21.8
(.86).
Range (Wholly within California)——Common resident on San Clemente
Island; also apparently the resident bird of San Miguel and Santa Rosa islands.
Authorities.—Cooper (Melospiza heermanni, part), Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci.,
vol. iv., 1870, p. 78); Townsend, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. xiii., 1890, p. 139 (San
Clemente Id.; orig. desc.) ; Grinnell, Pasadena Acad. Sci. Pub., no. 1, 1897, p. 18 (habits;
song); Grinnell and Daggett, Auk, vol. xx., 1903, p. 34 (crit.); Howell, Pac. Coast
Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 81 (distr.; syn., etc.).
No. 621 Santa Barbara Island Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581th. Melospiza melodia graminea C. H. Townsend.
Description.—Very similar to M. m. clemente, but somewhat smaller: wing
60.2 (2.37); tail 56.1 (2.21); culmen 12.2 (.48); tarsus 21.3 (.84).
Range (Wholly within California) —‘‘Common resident on Santa Barbara
Island; less numerous and of more local occurrence on Santa Cruz Island.’’—Grinnell.
Authorities.—Cooper (Melospiza heermanni, part), Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci.,
vol. iv., 1870, p. 78; Townsend, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. xiii., 1890, p. 139 (Santa
Barbara Id.; orig. desc.); Grinnell, Pasadena Acad. Sci. Pub., no. I, 1897, p. 6 (nests
and eggs; habits); J. Mailliard, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 44 (Santa
Cruz Id.); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 80 (distr., syn., etc.).
SO}
The Song Sparrows
Taken in Santa Barbara Photo by the Author
A SANTA BARBARA SONG SPARROW
No. 62m Heermann’s Song Sparrow
IT IS NATURAL enough
that these short-winged birds
of comparatively limited
powers of flight should have
become differentiated on the
islands of the Santa Barbara
group. There is no apparent
reason, however, why the
smaller form, graminea,
should be found on the small-
est and the largest islands,
Santa Barbara and Santa
Cruz, widely separated as
they are; or why this form
should interrupt the range of
clementae, which is ascribed
to San Miguel and Santa
Rosa as well as to San Cle-
mente Island. The prob-
ability is that the resem-
blances found are adventi-
tious, and that the stocks on
San Clemente and San
Miguel are of a degree of
separation as ancient as
that obtaining between either
and its more immediate
neighbors. It is a_ pretty
problem, and we cannot pre-
tend to be on the way toward
a solution.
A. O. U. No. 581c. Melospiza melodia heermanni Baird.
Description.—Similar to M. m. cooperi, but slightly grayer, especially on sides
of neck; the streaking of underparts more extensively bordered or suffused with rusty;
the buffy suffusion of streaked areas reduced or wanting except posteriorly. Very
slightly larger.
Range (Wholly within California).—Resident along streams and over flooded
lands of the Tulare depression, from about the latitude of Fresno south to Ft. Tejon,
JI4
|
|
:
The Song Sparrows
and east well into the Sierra foothills, intergrading indeterminably with mailliardi
on the north; may retire partially and irregularly south in winter, but probably not
to Nevada.
Authorities.—Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 478 (Tejon
Valley; orig. desc.); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1909, p. 266 (distr.;
crit.) ; zbid., Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 110 (distr., habits, etc.) ; Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric.,
Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, p. 84 (food); Swarth, Condor, vol. xiii, 1911, pp. 161,
163 (distr.).
HEERMANN’S Song Sparrow is characteristically, though not
exclusively, a dweller in cattails. The flooded areas tributary to the
San Joaquin River afford abundant cover of this special sort, and Melo-
spiza is as much a bird of the reeds as is Agelaius or Botaurus. It is
always good fun to bury one’s self in the heart of the reeds, then turn
loose the distress notes known as “‘screeping,’’ the master call of the
winged wild. Song Sparrows are the first to respond. From one to
a dozen will gather within a minute, peeping, prying, dashing, searching,
anxious for the welfare of their little ones, or merely curious as to the
source of the strange noise. And always they scold—that, at least,
is safe—tswewp, squib, or tsirb. The note is as definite as a dinner bell;
but no human lips can pronounce it. Frowsy females stop to upbraid
the stranger, although undelivered packages of worms muffle their
voices (goop, goop, is neither dignified nor intimidating); less ruffled
fathers grasp a cattail firmly in both feet, and speculate intently upon
the intruder’s identity and intentions. The sound of infantile slaughter
seems to proceed from those lips kissing a hand; but no slaughter results.
Perhaps he is calling the cows—or perhaps he is not quite right in the
head. It is evidently a false alarm, and we might as well go back to
bug-catching. And so the little people of the green forest steal away
again, disappointed or amused, according to their wont.
No. 62n Mailliard’s Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581c, part. Melospiza melodia mailliardi Grinnell.
Synonym.—MopeEsto SONG SPARROW.
Description.—Very similar to M. m. heermanni, but slightly darker, com-
parable to M. m. maxillaris in this respect. Proportions of bill as in heermanni. A
very “‘light’’ form which no one but a “‘speciation specialist’’ could discern.
Range (Wholly within California)——‘‘Common resident in the vicinity of
the confluence of the Tuolumne and San Joaquin Rivers, Stanislaus County, and thence
north at least to Tracy Lake, San Joaquin County.’’—Grinnell.
Authority.—Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. vii., 1911, p. 197 (near
Modesto; orig. desc.) ; zbid., Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 110 (distr.).
Shoe)
The Song Sparrows
No. 620 Merrill’s Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581k. Melospiza melodia merrilli Brewster.
Description.—Similar to M. m. fallax (next to be described), but darker
and much more rufescent, intermediate toward the coastal types. Prevailing tone
of upperparts grayish olive, changing to olive-gray anteriorly, the black element much
subdued; the rufous element strong on pileum and wing-and-tail-skirtings; streaks of
underparts heavy and broad, chiefly rusty, but with some dusky centering; flanks
and crissum washed with pale clay-color.
Range of M. m. merrilli—‘‘Northwestern United States. Breeds from Fort
Sherman, Idaho, west and south through Washington and Oregon east of the Cascades
to Shasta County, California; winters south to Nevada, Utah, Arizona, and Sonora.”’
—A. O. U. Committee.
Occurrence in California.—Winter visitor to northern California east of the
humid coastal belt, irregularly southward over area not clearly determined. One
record from Mohave Desert (Victorville, by J. Mailliard and J. Grinnell). Said to
breed in Shasta County (Ridgway).
Authorities.—McGregor (Melospiza melodia ingersolli), Bull. Cooper Orn.
Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 35 (Battle Creek, Shasta Co.); Ridgway, Birds N. and Mid.
Am., vol. i., 1901, p. 361 (crit. com. upon Calif. spec.).
No. 62p Rocky Mountain Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581a, part; No. 581b, part. Melospiza melodia fallax (Baird).
Description.—Somewhat similar to M. m. cooperi, but much lighter, more
grayish, the black element much reduced, confined to centers of feathers on pileum
and in jugular streak; the rufous of wing-edgings, etc., lighter; the streaks of under-
parts chiefly rusty; the 12-radial pattern of head usually more sharply defined.
Range of MM. m. fallax.—The breeding range of fallax presumably bounds that
of merrilli and fisherella upon the eastward, and so includes the Rocky Mountains
in Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, and Montana, south to northern New Mexico; winters
south to western Texas, northern Mexico, and southern California.
Occurrence in California.—I mperfectly made out, but occurs at least sparingly
in winter in southeastern and southern portions of State, probably west to Santa
Barbara.
Authorities.—Oberholser, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., xxiv., 1911, p. 252 (nomencl.) ;
Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p. 127 (status in Calif.); Saunders, Pac.
Coast Avifauna, no. 14, 1921, p. 129, fig. 29 (Mont.; habits, nest and eggs, etc).
No. 62g Modoc Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581b, part. Melospiza melodia fisherella Oberholser.
Description.—Said by its describer to differ from M. m. fallax in its darker
upperparts, more blackish brown streaks of under surface, heavier bill, and shorter
wing. There is undoubtedly justice in this claim, especially as regards specimens
from the extreme western part of the assigned range, viz., the Siskiyou district. Never-
theless, the change is so slight and so gradual that it is a pity to obscure the fact of
the close relationship existing between the breeding birds of interior northern Cali-
fornia and the Rocky Mountains by a difference in nomenclature.
356
The Song Sparrows
Range of WV. m. fisherella——Breeds in the plateau region of northeastern Cali-
fornia, northern Nevada, and southeastern Oregon; winters south at least to the
Colorado Desert.
Distribution in California.—Breeds regularly in the Modoc region of north-
eastern California, west to Sisson (or wherever merrilli may be supposed to take its
place), southward east of the Sierran divide through Owens Valley to Lone Pine and
Ash Creek; winters commonly on the southeastern deserts and in the Colorado River
valley.
Authorities.—Fisher, N. Am. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, p. 99 (Owens Valley);
H. C. Bryant, Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 204 (food); Oberholser, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash.,
vol. xxiv., I91I, p. 251 (Honey Lake, near Milford, Calif.; orig. desc.); Mailliard,
Condor, vol. xxi., 1919, p. 75 (nest and eggs).
THIS LARGE, pale form from the northeastern portion of the
State is typical of those northern interior varieties, merrilli, fallax,
and the rest, which by reason of the more severe winters overtaking their
breeding ranges, are obliged to shift southward each autumn. Their
winter ranges are as yet imperfectly made out, but fisherella and fallax
are likely to occur at that season almost anywhere in the southern portion
of the State, and especially in the vicinity of water-holes upon the Mohave
and Colorado deserts, or in the valley of the Colorado River. In such
situations they are easily distinguishable from the resident saltonis by
their darker plumage. Elsewhere, that is, west of the Sierro-San-San
Mountain system, they are distinguishable from resident races by their
large size, by their lighter, browner plumage, and more blended pattern.
A hardier, darker bird, merrilli, invades the northern portion of the
State in winter, but to a degree still problematical.
The Modoc Song Sparrow on his native heath differs in behavior
by no appreciable quality from his less travelled fellows; but one fancies
that he is more modest and reticent in his winter home.
On the 17th of June, 1912, I was hunting through the willows which
line the east shore of Goose Lake, in Modoc County. The east boundary
of the patch was formed by a narrow-gauge railroad of recent construc-
tion. Hard by the site of an abandoned construction camp I most
unexpectedly flushed a Modoc Song Sparrow from a massive paper-
wasp nest, which sat in a stark, naked willow about five feet up. The
Sparrow’s nest, of rather flimsy construction, had been sunk deeply
into the fragile, papery structure on one side; and the exterior construc-
tion on that side was shielded and harmonized by a plentiful supply
of scraps from a newspaper printed in modern Greek. The bird must
have been moved, | think, rather by patriotism than by a taste for the
classics, for an exposed paragraph mentions John Bull, Champ Clark,
KANSAS (whose emphatic royalty everyone concedes), and Uncle
Sam. These proper names are mercifully Anglicized (or Romanized),
SOM
The Song Sparrows
but the next line contains reference to Tapt, who, as presidential incum-
bent had evidently been received into full communion by the patriotic
Greeks. This exhibit of Vespa-Graeca-Melospizine architecture, to-
gether with the five eggs which it contained, now reposes in the collection
of the Museum of Comparative Odlogy, and it constitutes one of her
proudest trophies.
No. 62r Salton Sink Song Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 581a, part. Melospiza melodia saltonis Grinnell.
Description.—A bleached race, retaining only the barest outlines of the familiar
Song Sparrow pattern: the black element nearly suppressed, appearing only on exposed
portions of tertials; general tone of upperparts smoke-gray; the rufous element both
above and below lighter and brighter brown (nearest sayal brown); the whites of
underparts clearer and more extended. Juvenal birds share the bleached appearance
of their parents, and are very slightly streaked, often only upon chest and back. Meas-
urements of type, an adult male (after Grinnell): wing 58.8 (2.315); tail 67.2 (2.646);
culmen 10.5 (:41); tarsus 20.7 (.815).
Range of M. m. saltonis—Resident in Lower Sonoran zone from southern
Nevada and southwestern Utah south to southeastern Arizona, southeastern Cali-
fornia, northeastern Lower California, and Sonora.
Distribution in California.—Resident in the Colorado Valley tributary to
Salton Sink, in the Imperial Valley, and along the valley of the Colorado; casual on
the Mohave Desert (Oro Grande, Feb. 17, 18, 1918, by Wright M. Pierce).
Authorities.—Coues (Melospiza fallax), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1866,
p: 88 (Colo. Valley; s. Calif.); Cooper, Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 215 (Colo. Valley); Grinnell,
Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1909, p. 268 (Mecca; orig. desc.); zbid., vol. xii., 1914,
p. 174 (Colo. R.; habits, crit.).
NATURE has played another of her practical jokes, and this time
the victim is one of our beloved Song Sparrows. Snaring him with the
lure of one of those cattail patches, which somehow manage to survive both
in the Salton Sink and along the overflow lagoons of the Colorado River,
she has soaked our friend with her eternal sunshine until he is bleached
out almost beyond recognition. The blacks of a normal Song Sparrow’s
plumage have been reduced almost to the vanishing point, the browns
are faded to palest tawny, and the grays are browned and blended.
One is irresistibly moved to call him ‘‘Sandy’’; and the discovery that
this desert rat can chirp and sing and covet and wive with the lustiest
provokes one, somehow, to disrespectful mirth.
Dr. Grinnell notes! that this sparrow is characteristic of the arrow-
weed association in the Colorado River Valley, and that it is almost
as fond of the young willows. The annual floods of this river, which
occur in May and early June, defer the nesting of the sparrow accordingly;
1“*An Account of the Mammals and Birds of the Lower Colorado Valley,”’ U. of C. Pub. in Zool., 1914, p. 17.
358
za :
but the next line contains reference fe Tugs, who, as presidential incum-
bent had evidently been received ints +s Yall communion by the patriotic
Greeks. This exhibit of Ve po, Lathes Melospizine architecture, to-
gether with the five eggs which i “estiaied, now reposes in the collection
of the Museum of Cosiparstivs ¢aeey. aad it constitutes one of her
proudest trophies. f
No. 62r Salton Sink Sang Spacnae
AO: Ne: sos oe causes melodia saltonis Grinnell.
Descriptio. fy sa i s=iee only the barest outlines of the familiar
Song Spariiow palwecie Gar tte clelne geariy suporessed, appearing only on exposed
ports OE eRe: 3 a sexrearts sinoke-gray; the rufous element both
; be tava. (aearest saval brown); the whites of
‘pemiat fords share the bleached appearance
often only upon chest. and back. Meas-
\: Wing $8.8 (2.215); tail 67.2 (2.646);
# ix (eer Soporan zone from southern
¥ te southeastern Arizona, southeastern -Cali-.
sGiri. aint Sonora:
ioe — —-Reotdent in the Colorado Valley ae to
gaye es yin? al the ow | of the Colorado; casual on
; UL i=l right } ierce
s Sparr WW Wri ht M. Pierce).
Aiport ties. ~tiawen (MY elosd eed Bey ae Nat. Sci. Phila., 1866,
ee ae ae As Ceaper, Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 215 (Colo. Valley); Grinnell,
Furl, wal. x, tgog, p. 268 (Mecca; orig. desc.); 2bzd., vol. xii., 1914,
Lj Hetits, erit,):
“ATURE has piayed another of her practical jokes, and this time
the victim is ore of our beloved Song Sparrows. Snaring him with the
lure of one of these cattail patches, which somehow manage to survive both
in the Salton Sink and along the overflow lagoons of the Colorado River,
she has soake) Gur friend with her eternal sunshine until he is bleached
out alewet bevond recognition. The blacks of a normal Song Sparrow's
giumage have been reduced almost to the vanishing point, the browns
ave faded to palest tawny, and the grays are browned and blended.
(ine ja irresistibly maved tu call hing “‘Sandy’’; and the discovery that
this desert rat can chirps and sing and covet and wive. with the lustiest
prevuhes ane, wenchow, to disrespectful. mirth.
it. Ceinnell antes: that this sparrow ts characteristic of the-arrow- ——
‘Mend aseociation i the Colorado River Valley, and that it is almost |
ai fewi ef the young willows. The annual floods of this river, which =
ewwur i in May azei curiv June, defer the nesting of the sparrow accordingly;
To iq Sere: of tie Meeaiiais ind Bids of tite Lower Colorado Valley,” Unof CoPub. in Zool. 71914, Biles
258
.
The Lincoln Sparrows
and the nests, when they are built, are placed well above the mud of
last year’s high-water mark. In the vicinity of the Salton Sea, nesting
occurs in March, and February nests in the same region are a strong
probability.
Comparison of an extended series of Song Sparrows’ eggs in the
collections of the M. C. O. shows the eggs of M. m. saltonis to be brighter
as to ground and decidedly lighter as to spotting than those of the eastern
Song Sparrow. The difference, though unmistakable, is very much
less than exists between the birds themselves; and one hesitates to affirm
any bleaching action in the case of the eggs.
No. 63
Lincoln’s Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 583. Melospiza lincolni lincolni (Audubon).
Synonym.—LINcoLn’s SONG SPARROW.
Description.—Adults (sexes alike): Above grayish olive, sharply streaked
with black, the streaks broadest on back and scapulars; the feathers of pileum bor-
dered with rusty and olive-gray; exposed edgings of wings and tail pale cinnamo-
meous; pattern of head obscurely 12-rayed; below, throat and belly white, the former
never quite immaculate, but with small arrow-shaped black marks; sides of head and
neck and remaining underparts, including a well-defined band across chest, creamy
buff, everywhere marked by elongated and sharply-defined black streaks; occasionally
a dusky spot on center of breast. Bill blackish above, lighter below; feet and tarsi
light brownish. Juvenals: Much like adult, but more heavily streaked and with
buffy duller, more diffused. Adults measure: length about 146.1 (5.75); wing 63 (2.48);
tail 53.6 (2.11); bill 10.2 (.40).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; bears general resemblance to Song Sparrow,
from which it is distinguished by sharply-defined buffy chest-band, and by narrower,
sharper streaks of breast and sides.
Nesting.— Nest: On the ground or in tussock of swamp, rarely low in bushes;
a cup of twisted grasses, well concealed. Eggs: 4 or 5; pale bluish green, spotted
and blotched, uniformly or in cloud-cap or wreath, with reddish brown (burnt umber).
Av. of 5 eggs from Mono County (M. C. O.): 19.3 x 13.97 (.76 x .55). Av. of 5 eggs
from Salt Lake Co., Utah: 16.5 x 13.7 (.65 x .54). Season: June; one brood.
Range of Melospiza lincolni—North America.
Range of W. 1. lincolni—As above, except northwest coast district in Alaska.
Breeds in Boreal zone, from limit of trees in Alaska and British Columbia south to
northern Minnesota, northern New York, etc., and in the Sierra-Cascade and Rocky
Mountain systems south to southern California and New Mexico; winters from southern
California, Oklahoma, and the Gulf States south to Guatemala.
Distribution in California.—Breeds in mountain meadows of the Lower
Boreal zone in the higher ranges throughout the State. Recorded from the San
Jacintos, the San Bernardinos, the Sierras (including Shasta), the Warners, the Trini-
359
The Lincoln Sparrows
ties, the Yolla Bollies, and associated ranges. Winters in southern California, north
at least to the San Joaquin Valley, and on the islands.
Authorities.—Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 482 (Ft. Tejon,
etc.); Heermann (Peucea lincolnii), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. x., 1859, p. 49; Judd,
U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 15, 1901, p. 86 (food); Grinnell, Univ. Calif.
Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1908, p. 98 (habits; crit.) ; Pierce, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 34 (San
Bernardino Mts.; desc. nest and eggs.)
No. 63a Forbush’s Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 583a. Melospiza lincolni gracilis (Kittlitz).
Description.—Closely resembles the foregoing form, but alleged to be darker,
more broadly marked with black above and below; upper plumage more olivaceous.
Nesting.— Does not breed in California. Nest and eggs probably indistinguish-
able from those of preceding race.
Range of WW. /. gracilis —Breeds in Northwest—west coast district in Alaska
from Prince William Sound south (at least) to Sitka; winters south to southern portion
of Lower California.
Occurrence in California.—Winters at lower levels, commonly in the north-
west humid coast district, more sparingly southwest of the Sierras, and upon the deserts
to the Mexican line. Range imperfectly distinguished from that of M. 1. lincolnt.
Authorities.—McGregor (Melospiza lincolni striata), Bull. Cooper Orn. Club,
I, 1899, p. 35 (Calif. localities) ; Grinnell, Auk, vol. xxi., 1904, p. 274 (syn., meas., crit.) ;
Oberholser, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xix., 1906, p. 42 (nomencl.); Grinnell, Univ.
Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1909, p. 231 (Alaska; habits, nest, etc.).
WITH the possible exception of the Nelson Sparrow (Ammospizac.
nelsoni), Melospiza lincolni is the shyest of Californian finches,—shyest,
that is, in winter, when all but birds of the sedentary species are treading
on strange ground, and feel the need of acting circumspectly. Although
so inconspicuously dressed that it could well afford to rely upon its
protective coloration, the winter Lincoln skulks and freezes, hides behind
plant stems, or at a word dives into the depths of the thickest cover.
The bird seems to possess an almost uncanny consciousness of the human
eye ,and it begins to evade upon the instant of recognition, as though struck
by the beam of a burning-glass. Once, in the valley of the Colorado
River, I caught sight of a Lincoln Sparrow in a naked mesquite tree some
twenty feet away. Instead of flying, the bird became instantly motion-
less, “‘froze’’ to a rigidity never before witnessed in a Passerine bird.
Its conduct puzzled me, so that I advanced, retreated, and circled half
way around it several times, but the bird never moved a muscle, save to
bat an eyelid, slowly and painfully. Altogether it behaved like a fore-
doomed victim whose arch enemy, the Sharp-shin (Accipiter velox),
has his deadly eye upon it. And forty years of acquaintance with the
Lincoln Song Sparrow in winter and on migrations will scarcely yield
360
Taken in Yosemite
Photo by the Author
“THE VISION OF YOSEMITE FALLS”
LINCOLN SPARROWS ARE NESTING
IN THE FOREGROUND
The Lincoln Sparrows
The Lincoln Sparrows
one more than fleeting glimpses, baffling disappearances, or strained
moments of maddening unnaturalness.
Quite: different is the story of the Lincoln Sparrow in his summer
home, an emerald meadow in the Sierras, or a lush-bound cienaga in one
of the southern ranges. There he bursts upon you in a torrent of music,
a flood which leaves you fairly gasping. This little, slinking, bird-afraid-
of-his-shadow gets all at once the courage of mighty convictions, when
he has the mountain to back him; and though he still skulks and evades,
it is henceforth rather as a modest hero shunning the plaudits of an
unrestrained admi-
ration.
The song of the Lin-
coln Sparrow is of a
distinctly musical order,
being gushing, viva-
cious, and wren-like in
quality, rather than lisp-
ing and wooden, as are
so many of our sparrow
songs. Indeed, the bird
shows a much stronger
relationship in song to
the Purple Finch than
it does to its immediate
congeners, the Song
Sparrows. The principal
strain is gurgling,
rolling, and spon-
taneous, and the _ bird
has ever the trick of
adding two or three in-
consequential notes at
the end of his ditty,
quite in approved Purple
Finch fashion. Linkup,
tinkup perly werly willie
willie weeee (dim.) says
one; Riggle, jiggle, eet
eet eet eer oor, another.
Che willy willy willy che
quill; Lee lee lee quilly
| Taken in Yosemite Photo by the Author
LINCOLN’S CATHEDRAL willy willy, and other
The Lincoln Sparrows
such, come with full force and fresh-
ness at a hundred yards to the
listeners of the trail around Bluff
Lake in the San Bernardinos, or at
Camp Ahwahnee in the Yosemite.
Indeed, how could any creature,
however trivial, gaze upon the sub-
limities unfolded along the hallowed
reaches of the Merced without burst-
ing into song! Be that as it may, I
shall never recall the vision of Yo-
semite Falls, as seen from the road
just below the village, without
hearing the wild music of the Lincoln
Song Sparrows sounding like a
pibroch above the solemn thunders
of this majesty. And if one set out
to collect a photographic series of
favorite haunts of the Lincoln Spar-
row, he would have a muster roll of
California’s finest: Tahquitz Ridge,
the Simpson Meadows, the Yo-
semite, the eastern flank of the
Warners, Sisson, and Mt. Shasta—these are a few of the trysting
places of /incolni within the author’s experience. And these are but
a drop in the bucket as compared with the uncharted multitude of
beauty spots which the careful taste of l/incolni has honored.
Nests of the Lincoln Sparrow are hidden at the base of bush clumps
or grass tussocks, in the depths of the localswamp. The female slips off as
unobtrusively as a mouse, and threads the mazes in swift pedal retreat be-
fore taking to wing. The youngsters, too, according to Mr. Aretas
Saunders! move over the ground with astonishing proficiency before ever
they are able to fly.
After the young have quitted the nest the solicitude of the parents
becomes very manifest. The birds follow one about with soft little chips
of remonstrance, and they are very jealous of avian intruders. The
scolding note has nothing of the sharpness exhibited by the Song Sparrow
(M. melodia), nor of the asperity of the Junco, although it most resembles
that of the latter in its residual quality, as in the frequency of its utter-
ance. The bird occasionally erects its crown feathers in inquiry or
excitement, as do Chipping Sparrow, White-crowned Sparrow, and others.
Once, in a more northern swamp, on the flanks of Mt. Rainier, I had
LINCOLN
SPARROW
1“The Condor,” Vol. XII., Nov., 1910, p. 198. 303
Gree phets
The Lincoln Sparrows
opportunity to compare lincolnt and melodia (morphna) at short range.
Singularly enough, the jealous Lincoln, who had just furiously evicted a
Yellow Warbler from the home nesting tree, allowed the Song Sparrow to
sit unchallenged at a foot’s remove. Lincolni was not only the smaller
bird, but it was more lightly colored, and it had a sharp-cut streakiness
of plumage which does not characterize melodia. A comparison of many
examples, however, showed the similarity of head pattern between the
Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce
NEST AND EGGS OF LINCOLN SONG SPARROW
two sparrows to be very noticeable, while the buffy tinge of the Lincoln’s
breast would appear to be one of its least constant marks.
The claims to recognition of an alleged subspecies, M. /. striata
Brewster, are not at all impressive. Granting the validity of the meager
characters claimed, as between breeding specimens from Alaska and those
of our own mountains, the attempt to distinguish winter specimens breaks
down utterly; and you may report either /incolnt or striata from Berkeley
or San Diego, according to the state of your digestion or the prevailing
fashion in eyelashes. If the latter are worn drooping this year, you
pretend to see more streaks; that’s all.
364
The Lincoln Sparrows
opportunity to compare lincolni and meledia ( (morphna) at ee renee Pi
Singularly enough, the jealous Lincoln, who had just furiously evicted a —
Yellow Warbler from the home nesting tree, allowed the Song Sparrow to
sit unchallenged at a foot’s remove. Lincolnt was not only the smaller
bird, but it was more lightly colored, and it had a sharp-cut streakiness
of plumage which does not characterize melodia, A comparison of many
examples, however, showed the similarity of head pattern between the
Yaken in Sax Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce
NEST AND EGGS OF LINCOLN SONG SPARROW
two sparrows to be very noticeable, while-the buffy tinge of the Lincoln’s
breast would appear to be one of its least constant marks
The claims to recognition of an alleged Subspecies. M. 1. striata
Brewster, are not at all impressive. Granting the validity of the meager
characters claimed, as between breeding specimens from Alaska and those
oj our own mountains, the attempt to distinguish winter specimens breaks _
down utterly; and you may report either /incolni or striata from Berkeley
or San Diego, according to the state of your digestion or the prevailing
fashion in eyelashes. If the latter are worn drooping this year, you
pretend to see more streaks; that’s all.
JO4
The Fox Sparrows
No. 64
Swamp Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 584. Melospiza georgiana (Latham).
Synonym.—Swamp SONG SPARROW.
Description.—A dults (sexes alike): Crown hazel; exposed edges of wings and
tail (strongest on greater wing-coverts) hazel, paling to cinnamomeous; remaining
upper plumage black, bordered by brownish buffy or olivaceous, the blacks strongest
on forehead, occiput, upper back, and scapulars; the cervix invaded by gray, contin-
uous with sides of neck and breast; a clear gray superciliary stripe bordering the bay;
chin and throat and breast, centrally, white; the remaining under plumage heavily
washed with brownish gray, changing to brownish buffy on flanks and crissal region.
Bill dark above, lighter below; feet and tarsi light brown. Immature birds, even in
the second year (?), lack the hazel crown, having black with rusty edgings instead,
and are much more strongly brownish below and on sides. Adult males measure:
length about 142.2 (5.60); wing 62.5 (2.46); tail 59.2 (2.33); bill 11.7 (.46); tarsus
21.6 (.85). Females are smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; a Song-Sparrow-like bird, unmarked below;
chestnut crown of adult with swamp-loving habits distinctive.
General Range.—North America, chiefly east of the Great Plains. Breeds
from west central Alberta, central Keewatin, and Newfoundland south irregularly
to West Virginia, central Ohio, and northern Missouri; winters from about its southern
breeding range south to the Gulf and into Mexico. Accidental in Colorado, Utah,
Arizona, and now California.
Occurrence in California.—One specimen taken Nov. I, 1921, near Keeler,
Inyo County, by Mrs. May Canfield and Laurence M. Huey, now in the Dickey
Collection (J 1797).
Authority.—Dickey, Condor, vol. xxiv., 1922, p. 136 (Keeler, Inyo Co.).
ISN’T this splendid! Think of coming two thousand miles from
home just to be enrolled in the California Society, Ltd! Well; some of
the rest of us have done as much, and they didn’t shoot us for it—yet.
It was rather a mistake, though—no; of course I don’t mean that. I
mean it was a mistake for this little bird to suppose that we needed
Song Sparrows in California. Why, we already have twenty varieties
on our hands; and if we needed more, Dr. Grinnell could attend to it.
Birdie, I guess you got what was coming to you—‘‘J 1797”!
No. 65
Fox Sparrow
No. 65 Fox-colored Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585. Passerella iliaca iliaca (Merrem).
Synonym.—EAstTERN Fox SPARROW.
Description.—A dult (sexes alike): In general hazel brown, mingled with slaty
gray and olivaceous above, and sharply outlined against white ground upon under-
305
The Fox Sparrows
parts, the rufous element clearest, cinnamon-rufous, on upper tail-coverts and tail;
also nearly pure upon auriculars, sides of throat, and spotting of chest; deepening
upon sides, where present in broad streaks having dusky centers, and upon back where
broadly margined with olivaceous gray; wings chiefly russet, with dusky brown cen-
tering of feathers; edge of wing and extreme tips of median and greater coverts whitish;
crown, cervix, and sides of neck slaty gray (light mouse-gray or olivaceous gray),
tipped more or less, especially upon crown, with rufous, and showing tendency to
streaking; rump olivaceous gray; underparts white, immaculate on abdomen, chin,
and lower throat, crossed on upper throat with an irregular chain of rufous spots,
marked boldly on chest with rufous, and across breast and often along sides of breast
with sharp sagittate marks of dusky; a touch of white on either side of the head above
the lores persisting throughout the species. Bill (drying) reddish horn-color above,
lighter below; feet (drying) light brown. Specimens differ chiefly in the strength and
diffusion of the olivaceous gray element of the upperparts. Length 165.1-184.15
(6.50-7.25); wing 88.5 (3.48); tail 71.7 (2.82); culmen 11.6 (.46); depth of bill 9.4
(.37); width at base 8.2 (.32); tarsus 24.2 (.95).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; distinguishable from all other sparrows
by the generous streaking of underparts and sides, and from all other subspecies
by the brightness of its reds.
Nesting of Passerella iliaca— Nest: A bulky structure composed externally
of coarse twigs, and bark-strips, with leaves or moss, internally of fine grasses or even fur,
feathers, etc.; placed low or at moderate heights in bushes, thickets, saplings, etc.,
or even upon the ground without attempt at concealment. Eggs: 3 or 4 in the South;
4 or 5 in the North; rounded ovate; pale niagara green or greenish gray, spotted,
sometimes uniformly and heavily, or else sparingly, or blotched or cloud-capped
(rarely, if ever, wreathed), with reddish brown (burnt umber or cameo-brown to deep
chocolate). Av. size 22.35 x 16.5 (.88 x .65). Extremes 20.3-25.4 by 15.5-17.8 (.80-
1.00 by .61-.70). Season: May-July; two broods. While the material available
does not justify an attempt to define subspecific distinctions in the eggs of Fox Spar-
rows, there is a rough correlation in size between the eggs and the parent birds, and a
tendency toward brighter as-well as heavier coloring in the case of the Alaskan coastal
races.
Range of Passerella iliaca—North America, but chiefly western, breeding north
of the United States and in the mountains of the West; wintering south to the Gulf
States and southern California.
Range of P. 7. i/iaca—Breeds in the Boreal zones of Canada and northern Alaska,
except the southwestern portion, from the limit of trees south to northern Manitoba and
the Magdalen Islands; winters in the eastern United States from about Latitude 40°
south to the Gulf, and in the West casually upon the southern coast of Alaska south to
California.
Occurrence in California.—Rare or casual midwinter visitant; reported from
widely scattered localities, chiefly southern.
Authorities.—Coues, Birds of the Northwest, 1874, p. 161 (‘Accidental in
California, spec. in Mus. S. I.’’); Henshaw, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, vol. ili., 1878, p. 7
(crit.); Nelson, Rep. Nat. Hist. Coll. Alaska, 1887, p. 195 (habits, song, nest and
eggs, etc.); W. E. Bryant, Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci., 2nd ser., vol. ii., 1889, p. 90 (Poway,
San Diego Co.); Judd, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 15, 1901, p. 87 (food);
Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 114, figs. (occurrence in Calif., distr.,
desc., crit.).
366
(qo3) asails
tinolutnt
arenipilut
iznsdgsye
haan 15 rae Ss
24a
'
parts, the rufous element clearest, cinnarmon-rufous, on upper tail-coverts and tail;
also nearly pure upon auriculars. sides of throat, and spotting of chest; deepening
upon sides, where present in broad streaks having dusky centers, and upon back where
broadly margined with olivaceous gray; wings chiefly russet, with dusky brown cen-
tering of feathers; edge of wing and extreme tips of median and greater coverts whitish;
crown, cervix, and sides of neck slaty gray. (light mouse-gray or olivaceous gray),
tipped more or !éss, especially upon crown, with rufous, and showing tendency to
streaking; rump olivaceous gray; underparts white, immaculate on abdomen, chin,
and lower throat, crossed on upper throat with an irregular chain of rufous spots,
marked boldly on chest with rufous, and across breast and often along sides of breast
with sharp ségittate marks of dusky; a touch of white on either side of the head above
the lores persisting throughout the species, Bill (drying) reddish horn-color above,
lighter below; feet (drying) light brown. Specimens differ chiefly in the strength and
diffusion of the olivaceous gray element of the upperparts. Length 165.1-184.15
(6.50-7.25); wing 88.5 (4.48); tail 71.7 (2.82); culmen 11.6 (46); depth of bill 9.4
(37); width at base 8.2 (.32): tarsus 24.2 (.95).
Recognition Marke.—Sparrow size;. distinguishable from all other sparrows
by the genercus stveaking of underparts and sides, and from all other subspecies
by the brightness of its reds. *
Nesting of Passerelle dicca.— Nest: A bulky structure composed externally
af coarse twigs. and bark-strips. with leaves or moss, internally of fine grasses or even fur,
feathers, ete.; placed low or at moderate heights in bushes, thickets, saplings, etc.,
or even upon the ground without attempt at concealment. .Eggs: 3 or 4 in the South;
4 or 5 in the North; rounded ovate; pale niagara green or greenish gray, spotted,
sometimes uniformly and heavily, or else sparingly, or blotched or cloud-capped
(rarely, if ever, wreathed), with reddish brown (burnt umber or cameo-brown to deep
chocolate). Av. size 22.35 x 16.5 (.88 x .65). Extremes 20.3-25.4 by 15.5-17.8 (.80-
1.00 by .61-.70), Season: May-July; two broods. While the material available
does not justify an . -A Selection of Fox: Sparrows the eggs of Fox Spar-
rows, there is a rough correlation in About ¥ Ti P abe éggs and the parent birds, and a
tendency toward brighter as-well as heavi f like size in the case of the Alaskan coastal
races. ‘
Range of Passerelia tliaca—North America, but chiefly western, breeding north
of the United States and in the mountains of the West; wintering south to the Gulf
States and southern California. Z
Range of P. 7. iliaca.—Breeds in the Boreal zones of Canada and northern Alaska,
except the scuthwestern portion, from the limit of trees south to northern Manitoba and
the Magdalen Islands; winters in the eastern United States from about Latitude 40°
south to the Gulf, and in the West casualiv upon the southern coast of Alaska south to
California.
Occurrence in California.—Rare or casual midwinter visitant; reported from
widely scattered localities, chiefly southern.
Authorities —Cowes, Rirds of the Northwest, 1874, p. 161 (‘‘Accidental in
California, spec. in Mus. $8. 1.19: Henshaw, Bull. Nutt.'Orn, Club, vol. iti., 7878, p. 7
(erit.); Nelson, Rep. Nat. Hist. Coll. Alaska. 1887, p. 195 (habits, song, nest and
eggs, etc.); W. E& Bryant, Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci., 2nd ser., vol. i., 1889, p. 90 (Poway,
San Diege Co.); Judd, U.S. Dept. Apri -iliaca’ (top) Bull,, no. £5, r9g0t, p. 87 (food);
Swarth, Univ. Cali, Pub. Zool.,.wel, xxi, 1920, p. 114, figs, (occurrence in Calif., distr...
aest., Crit.) SU
: fuliginosa
= 66 stephensi
The Fox Sparrows
No. 65a Alberta Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585a, part. Passerella iliaca altivagans Riley.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. iliaca, but darker and duller, the pattern of the
upper plumage almost completely blended; hence, upper tail-coverts and exposed
surfaces of folded tail and wings russet; remaining upperparts, including pileum and
sides of neck, mingled olive-brown and slaty; spotting of underparts and streaking
of sides broader, more copious (invading lower throat), and darker, sepia. Mandible
yellow, darkening on tip. Measurements: wing 81 (3.19); tail 76 (2.99); bill 10.6
(.42); depth of bill 9.4 (.37); width 7.9 (.31); tarsus 23.1 (.91). :
Range of P. 7. altivagans—Breeding in central Alberta in an ill-defined area
lying between the range of z/iaca upon the northeast and schistacea upon the west and
south.
Occurrence in California.—‘‘Rare winter visitant to the northeastern section
of the State, casually south to Los Angeles County.’’—(Grinnell).
Authorities.—Riley, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xxiv., 1911, p. 235 (orig.
desc., type locality Moose Branch of Smoky R., Alberta; spec. from Fort Crook,
Shasta Co., Calif.); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 119, figs. (occur-
rence in Calif., distr., desc., crit.).
No. 65b Shumagin Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585a. Passerella iliaca unalaschcensis (Gmelin).
Description.—Somewhat similar to P. 72. zliaca, but much darker and pattern
completely blended; spotting of underparts much heavier and darker, brown. In
particular: Upperparts, including pileum, sides of neck, and sides of breast, olive-
brown, becoming more rufescent, cinnamon-brown on upper tail-coverts and exposed
upper surfaces of wings and tail; underparts white, heavily and broadly streaked with
dark brown (Prout’s brown or mummy-brown to sepia). The spots invade the chin,
but are sparse upon chin, lower throat, and abdomen. Measurements: wing 83.6
(3.29); tail 76.2 (3.00); culmen 12 (.47); depth 10 (.39); width 8.7 (.34); tarsus 25.2
(.99).
Range of P. 7. unalaschcensis—Breeding in the Alaska peninsula, Unalaska,
and the Shumagin Islands; south in winter through western California to San Diego
County.
Distribution in California.—Imperfectly determined, but occurs in winter
in widely scattered localities west of the Sierras, chiefly southerly.
Authorities.—Osgood, N. Am. Fauna, no. 24, 1904, p. 76 (crit.; unalaschcensis
and iliaca regarded as specifically distinct); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi.,
1920, p. 127, figs. (occurrence in Calif., distr., desc., crit.).
No. 65c Kadiak Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585f, part. Passerella iliaca insularis Ridgway.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. unalaschcensis, but slightly darker and more
rufescent throughout, and with heavier spotting below. Size scarcely different.
Range of P. i. insularis—Breeding range central upon Kadiak Islands (line of
demarcation from sinuosa upon the north undefined); wintering south to southern
California.
367
The Fox Sparrows
Occurrence in California.—‘‘Fairly common winter visitant south through
the interior west of the Sierras, and chiefly east and south of the humid coast belt,
to the San Diegan district and the Santa Barbara Islands.’’—(Grinnell).
Authorities.—Oberholser, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. xxii., 1900, p. 232
(Santa Catalina Id.); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 132, figs.
(occurrence in Calif., distr., desc., crit.).
No. 65d Valdez Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585f, part. Passerella iliaca sinuosa Grinnell.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. insularis, but still darker (as compared with
unalaschcensis) and less rufescent.
Range of P. 7. sinuosa.—Breeding range central upon the islands and shores
of Prince William Sound, Alaska; wintering south to southern California.
Occurrence in California.—Winter resident, apparently well distributed, but
no records from southeastern portion of State.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1910, p. 405 (orig.
desc., type locality Knight Id., Prince Wm. Sd., Alaska; habits, nest and eggs, crit.;
Calif. in winter); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 135, figs. (occurrence
in Calif., distr., desc., crit.); Mazlliard, Condor, vol. xxiii., 1921, p. 180 (migr. in Calif.).
No. 65e Yakutat Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585f, part. Passerella iliaca annectens Ridgway.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. sinuosa, but still darker, although more rufescent;
increase of spotting on underparts tends to coalescence on sides and flanks and across
chest. Also similar to P. 7. townsendi, but less rufescent; a little smaller every way.
Range of P. 7. annectens.—Coast of Alaska, breeding centrally about Yakutat
Bay, but also south to Cross Sound; winters south to California.
Occurrence in California.x—Common winter resident, chiefly confined to the
humid coast belt, but also east to Placer County (Adams) and San Diego County
(Bishop).
Authorities.—Vigors, Ornithology, in the Zoology of Captain Beechey’s
Voyage, 1839, p. 19 (desc. of a fox sparrow [Fringilla meruloides] from Monterey that
has been argued to be the same as the bird now called Passerella iliaca annectens) ;
Grinnell, Condor, vol. iv., 1902, p. 44 (crit.); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi.,
1920, p. 140, figs. (occurrence in Calif., distr., desc., crit.); Allen, Condor, vol. xxii.,
1920, p. 16 (return of a bird to the same winter home).
No. 65f Townsend’s Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585g. Passerella iliaca townsendi (Audubon).
Description.—Similar to P. 7. annectens, but more rufescent. Also similar
to P. 1. fuliginosa, but lighter and redder. In particular: Above and on sides reddish
brown, bister, brightening (Prout’s brown) on upper tail-coverts and exposed surfaces
of wings and tail; underparts white but heavily and broadly streaked with bister,
the streaking often involving the entire throat and abdomen. Smaller: wing 78.6
(3.09); tail 71.4 (2.81); culmen 11.6 (.456); depth at base 9.1 (.358); width 7.6 (.30);
tarsus 25 (.98).
368
The Fox Sparrows
Range of P. 7. townsendi.—Southeastern Alaska; breeds on the coasts and islands
from Cross Sound south to Dixon entrance; winters south to Monterey, California.
Occurrence in California.—Winter resident in the northwestern humid coast
strip, south to Pacific Grove.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1909, p. 232 (Alaska;
habits, nest and eggs, etc.); Willett, Auk, vol. xxxii., 1915, p. 305 (Alaska; desc. nests,
dates of nesting); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 144, figs. (occurrence
in Calif., distr., desc., crit.).
No. 65g Sooty Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585e. Passerella iliaca fuliginosa Ridgway.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. townsendi, but plumage much darker and less
rufescent; also averaging larger. In this form nearly all semblance of distinction in
the streaking of the underparts has been lost. The bird is scarcely ‘‘sooty,’’ but it is
of a very dark and nearly uniform brown. Larger: wing 82 (3.23); tail 76.1 (2.99);
culmen 11.9 (.47); depth of bill at base 10.6 (.417), width 8 (.315); tarsus 26 (1.02).
Range of P. 7. fuliginosa.—‘‘Northwest coast strip. Breeds on the coast of
British Columbia, Vancouver Island, and northwestern Washington; winters south
along the coast to San Francisco, California’ (A. O. U.).
Occurrence in California.—Sparingly resident through the humid coast belt
south to San Francisco.
Authority.—Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 149, figs.
(occurrence in Calif., distr., desc., crit.).
THE ‘LIBERTY of difference’ is the most fascinating aspect of
bird-life, as it is one of the most engaging qualities in our fellow-men.
How beings of like origin may become different under the altered circum-
stances of life, and the certainty that they will change under the varying
impact of experience, this it is which gives zest to research and which
makes bird study a reflex of life itself. The tendency to vary is one
of the fundamental and familiar qualities of life. Species, genera,
families, orders,—all are the result of progressively divergent movements
of variation. But if the outcome in the manifold diversity of the living
is agreeable to us, the beginnings of difference must exert a tenfold
fascination. The detection of these beginnings is, indeed, the flattering
evidence of our own progress. Just as Millet could recognize twenty-
two shades of green where a layman saw only two, so the specialist in
animal variation sees a world of related beauty, a realm of historical
order, where the layman sees only vague confusion, or a dull array of
uncomprehended names.
For practical purposes there is only one Fox Sparrow. Pages might
be written about the Fox Sparrow, pages alike true of birds from Anti-
costi or the Yukon or Kadiak or the San Jacinto Mountains,—pages in
which no sense of difference should be allowed to intrude itself upon the
369
The Fox Sparrows
lay mind. Yet to the student the outstanding joy of acquaintance with
the Fox Sparrow is the recognition of differences. Fox Sparrows from
Kadiak Island are different from Fox Sparrows in the Warner Mountains.
How? and why? Well, that would take a volume to tell; and the best
half of the facts would still have to be guessed at. All we can do is
to outline or summarize.
The extremes of difference manifested within the ranks of the
“species” Passerella iliaca would undoubtedly be sufficient to justify
separation into distinct species, provided no intermediate specimens,
no ‘“‘missing links,’’ or intergrades, existed. But these do exist in un-
broken perfection, and we have, instead of, say, three separable species of
Fox Sparrows, a group of ten or a dozen (sixteen according to Mr. Swarth)
incipient species, each exhibiting certain tendencies or directions of
growth, and each entitled to some sort of distinctive recognition, yet
each surrounded by an aura of intergrades, an assemblage of “‘transitional
forms,’’ every individual of which is just as well entitled to consideration,
to recognition, to description, as are those arbitrarily chosen by us for
distinctive attention. Hence, again, the species Passerella iliaca is one,
Taken in Berkeley Photo by Amelia S. Allen
MRS. ALLEN’S WINTER GUESTS
YAKUTAT FOX SPARROW(S?). TWO PRINTS, POSSIBLY OF SAME BIRD, COMBINED
and will continue to be such unless and until the Fox Sparrow population
of some intervening area drops out and so isolates a remoter group.
The exceeding complexity of the problem which confronts the student
in the discussion of the monotypic genus Passerella may be summarized
SO
The Fox Sparrows
in the statement that all
known geographical races
of this highly plastic
species winter, at least cas-
ually, in California. This |
includes (by seven ex- |
amples and many
intermediates) the
most highly differenti-
ated type, tliaca iliaca,
normally restricted in
winter to the eastern
United States east of
the Rocky Mountains.
The problem is also of
peculiar interest to the
Californian, not alone
because of the present
hospitality enjoyed by
this widely distributed TEED TRIVIGSHEREION
Photo by the Author
species, but because of CARROLL ISLET: A SUMMER HOME OF THE SOOTY FOX SPARROW
ancient tenure. The
Fox Sparrow not improbably originated here; or if not, it is at least
certain that the species found in California its chief asylum before the
oncoming of the great Ice Age. When the crisis was past, the birds
pressed close upon the ice monster’s retreating heels. But they did
not forget California. Every winter they steal back like jolly gray
ghosts, and occupy the fastnesses of riverside thickets, of young ever-
greens, and of hillside chaparral, in such numbers that the mind ts stag-
gered with the realization.
Let us pause a moment upon the last thought. Of the total area
of California let us say that one-tenth is exactly suited to the require-
ments of the Fox Sparrows in winter. Upon any acre of this area one
may call up, by “‘screeping’’ diligently, from one to ten birds which
may be counted. Fully half the birds fail to answer, or, responding,
are yet too shy to enroll themselves, their presence being indicated
by distant fsooks, or movement of bushes. Very vague, of course,
this method; but from it I gather that there are present on a winter’s
day in California anywhere from twenty million to two hundred million
Fox Sparrows. We are each of us, man, woman and child, entitled
to the exclusive care of, or reciprocal interest in, from five to fifty Fox
Sparrows!
37L
The Fox Sparrows
It is one thing, however, to discover our ownership and quite another
to collect our dues of opportunity for inspection, or exhibition of dis-
tinctive traits. The Fox Sparrows in winter are bafflingly modest.
Taken on Carroll Islet Photo by the Author
SOOTY FOX SPARROW IN SUMMER
Their colors blend so perfectly with the leaf-strewn ground and the
dingy stems of the under chaparral, or else with the leaf-mold and rotting
logs of the northern under forest, that search with the eyes alone is
useless. Except for the circumstance of screeping (which is the bird-
man’s trick, and ‘‘no fair’’ in a discussion of averages), meetings with
Fox Sparrows are rare or casual. But if you are much out-of-doors the
time will come, while you are footing it softly along some woodland
path, that a demure brown bird will hop out in front of you and look
unconcernedly for tid-bits before your very eyes. The bird is a little
larger than a Song Sparrow, but you will require a second glance to note
that the colors of the upperparts are smoothly blended, that the head
lacks the vague stripiness of Melospiza, and that the underparts are
spotted instead of streaked. Or, it may be, that you chance upon
3/2
The Fox Sparrows
him as he is busily scratching among the fallen alder leaves. Scratching
is hardly the word, though, for the bird leaps forward and executes an
extravagant double kick backward, landing invariably at the edge of
the cleared space. Here, without a moment’s delay, he proceeds to
glean busily, whereas you rather expected him to pause at the end of
his stunt, like the acrobat, awaiting the conventional burst of applause.
If you must needs pursue the path, he hops back into the thicket and
the show is over for that day, or, perchance, for the novice, for that
season.
It is by diligent screeping, however, that one may summon the
Fox Sparrow population for registration and review. One chooses a
humble station, partly screened, and kisses the back of the hand, in
simulation of a young bird’s distress cry. There is a rustle in the thicket,
Taken on Carroll Islet Photo by the Author
NEST, WITH YOUNG, OF SOOTY FOX SPARROW
the sound of bird-feet on branches faintly creaking, and of impinging
twigs. Presently there is a faint tsook of inquiry, and a form emerges
ten feet away, quiet, demure, attentive. Another and another appears
SHS
The Fox Sparrows
at different levels and looks mild inquiry. You are inspected critically
from all sides, but interest soon gives way to boredom. Napoo, says
one bird with a chuckle, and prepares to move away. Frantically
the bird-man renews his screeping. The birds are a trifle puzzled,
but this is not the first of nature’s mysteries which they have had to
pass up, and almost before one knows it the curious crowd has melted
away, and silence reigns again in the chaparral. It is rather humorous
and rather pitiful, for, honestly, this is about all there is to it—our
entertainment of a hundred million guests!
When it is remembered that our own Fox Sparrows nest only at
the higher levels, 6000, 8000, 10,000 feet, we may be pardoned for following
these retreating hosts northward on some vacation trip, to British Co-
lumbia or Alaska. We shall begin to overtake them first at sea-level,
on the islands of Puget Sound or along the Olympic Coast of Washington.
We are tantalized, as the tent pegs are being driven on a mossy level
just above the beach line, by certain sprightly songs bursting out now
here and now there from the copse.
We labor under a sense of avian surveillance as we gather fuel
from the beach, but the songs are too joyous and limpid to make precise
connections with anything in previous experience. It is not till the
cool of the evening, when we seek the spring, back in the depths of the
thicket, that we come upon a fair bird-maiden slyly regaling herself
upon a luscious salmon-berry, flushed to the wine-red of perfection,
while three of her suitors peal invitations to separate bowers in the
neighboring tangles. She flees guiltily on detection, but the secret is
out; we know now where these shy wood nymphs keep themselves in
summer.
The male bird is sometimes emboldened by the moment of song to
venture into the tops of willows or alders, but even here he hugs the screen
of leaves and is ready in a trice to dive into the more familiar element
of bushes. Once under cover of the protecting salal, or among the
crowding ferns, the Fox Sparrows are excelled by none in their ability
to get about with a minimum of disturbance; and the longest journeys,
such as are made necessary in the time of clamoring young, appear to
be made by slipping and sliding through the maze of intersecting stems.
The song is varied and vivacious; but, save for the opening notes, is
neither very strong nor very brilliant. The opening phrase, however,
Pewit, heu, comes as a tiny bugle call into which is distilled the essence
of all dank hollows, of all rustling leaves, of all murmuring tides, and
of all free-blowing breezes. It is the authentic voice of the little
wild.
374
Lp
Z
eget
Py
“
Oe %
aber,
Yo ey
2 > % : I
ey)
The Fox Sparrows
at different levels and lovks mild inquiry.
eee from all sides, but interest soon gives way
ps one bird with a chuckle, and
* oot own Fox Sparrows nest only at —
# ‘eet, we may be pardoned for following _
these retreating hosts sorthward on some vacation trip, to British Co-_
‘ # begin to overtake them first at sea-level,
“i of along the Olympic Coast of Washington,
test pege are being driven on a mossy level > 5
awe When it is rememtsvat. tha
the higher levels, Gocwm, Hage, sea
nk
Oe ‘
me
iat ahwowe ivy certain sprightly songs bursting out now ee.
ler aad saw pent feu che MONG.
Yee ee wrkler a sense of avian surveillance as we gather fuel
: beach. but tbe sungs are too joyous and limpid to make precise
cGnrs wil eurrthigg in previous experience. It is not till the
Etre, ee | j
: latectots. t" the depths of the
ieket. that we tanie Goan den si aba regaling herself
vy, thé wine-red of perfection,
or subee Bears heletes ASAE "8" separate bowers in the
Reghbering tanwles. She flees guiltily on detection, but the secret is
“ut; we Kaew now where these shy wood nymphs keep themselves in
shramer.
write three of ch
ihe mate tin! is sometimes emboldened by the moment of song to
haste. ‘Oca ander cover of the protecting salal, or among the
eeivaring forte, tims Fox Sparrows are excelled by none in their ability PO
te
a sliding through the maze of intersecting stems. |
wi vivacious; but, save for the opening notes, is
‘ brilfant. The opening phrase, however, —
» Mule call late which is distilled the essence ~
o8 swatting leaves, of all murmuring tides, and
it is the authentic voicé of the little ~
Cofpypight 1903 by WL? Danton
The Fox Sparrows
No. 65h Slate-colored Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585c, part. Passerella iliaca schistacea Baird.
Description.—Somewhat similar to P. 7. zliaca, but rufous spots somewhat smaller,
with tail both proportionately and absolutely longer—nearly equal to wing; rufous
element in plumage greatly reduced, persistent only on upper tail-coverts, wings,
and tail; pattern of upper plumage entirely blended; streaking of underparts about
equal in quantity, but dusky or slightly brownish instead of red. In particular:
Color of upperparts brownish gray, clearest, nearly mouse-gray on crown and sides
of neck, of specimens in worn (breeding) plumage; more rufescent, dull cinnamon-
brown, on upper tail-coverts and exposed surfaces of wings and tail; below white,
sharply streaked, especially on chest and sides, with sagittate spots of dark brown
or dusky; streaks tend to confluence on sides of throat; those of the sides are pro-
longed and enlarged posteriorly. Bill slightly smaller and darker and feet darker
than in zliaca. Measures: wing 80 (3.15); tail 77.6 (3.05); culmen 10.9 (.43); depth
of bill at base 9.5 (.37), width 8.1 (.32); tarsus 22.7 (.89).
Range of P. 7. schistacea.—As now defined, breeds in the Rocky Mountain dis-
trict from central Colorado north into the interior of British Columbia, and west
over the high Columbian plateau into Oregon and Washington; ‘‘winters south to
southwestern California, Arizona, and New Mexico, and east to Kansas’’ (A. O. U.).
Occurrence in California.—Scattered records of occurrence in fall and winter
in interior and,southern California await differentiation from those attributable to
P. 12. fulva.
Authorities.—Belding, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. i., 1879, p. 418 (Murphys,
Calaveras Co.); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, p. 85 (Fresno; occurrence,
habits); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 152, figs. (occurrence in
Calif., distr., desc., crit.).
IT IS an awkward expedient introducing for separate treatment
a Fox Sparrow race whose physical distinctions do not entitle it to any
such prominence; but the Slate-colored Fox Sparrow not only enjoys a
more extended breeding range than any other form (save dliaca proper)
but it establishes the perfect bridge of connection between our specialized
thick-billed types, which are strictly resident in California, and the
remoter coastal and interior forms. It is, therefore, an extensive neighbor
of ours, though not a resident bird. The precise area of its intergra-
dation with megarhyncha is still undetermined, but theoretically it
lies along the eastern slopes of the Cascades. Like the megarhyncha
type, again, schistacea is confined to high Transition, but the altitude
of this zone rapidly decreases as we go northward beyond the limits
of the State; so that the Slate-colored Fox Sparrow comes into contact
with civilization to a degree unrealized by any other member of this
group.
And a very civil bird he is, too. Seen in the half light of early
morning, nothing in its pose or appearance would ever induce the student
to bestow a second glance upon the evident Song Sparrow, were it not
for the sweet and powerful challenge which pours from his earnest beak.
7)
The Fox Sparrows
Oree, rickit, loopiteer, it says, with varied cadence and minor change
which give evidence of no mean ability. There is something so forth-
right and winsome about this modest bird that the listener promptly
Taken in Washington Photo by the Author
A GENTLE MOTHER
SLATE-COLORED FOX SPARROW ABOUT TO BROOD
376
The Fox Sparrows
surrenders “‘at discretion,’ and begins to ask eager questions of his
dainty captor.
As might be expected, the home life of this Quaker poet is idyllic.
In a certain aspen grove of the North a nest was located early in June;
and this, rather unusually, had been placed upon the ground instead of
being concealed in a bush. The nest was marked by its proximity to the
base of a small tree, but it stood so high, with overflowing skirts, and
without pretense of concealment, that it was plainly visible, with all
its contents, two rods away.
The female was brooding, but upon our approach she slipped quietly
off and left her three callow young to the tender mercies of the bird-man
and his big glass eye, set at four feet, while she began searching for food
upon the ground a yard or two away.
The male bird appeared once upon a bush some twenty feet away,
making no hostile demonstration but beaming, rather, a hearty con-
fidence, as who should say, ‘‘Well, I see you are getting along nicely at
home; that’s right, enjoy yourselves, and [’ll finish up this bit of hoeing
before supper.”’
The mother bird, meanwhile, was uttering no complaint of the
strange presence, preferring instead to glean food industriously from
under the carpet of green leaves. Soon she returned, hopping up daintily.
Standing upon the elevated brim of her nest she carefully surveyed her
brood without proffer of food, as though merely to assure herself of
their welfare. I “‘snapped”’ and she retreated, not hastily, as though
frightened, but quietly as matter of reasonable prudence. Again and
again, during the hour I had her under fire, she returned to her brood.
Each time she retired before the mild roar of the curtain shutter, never
hastily or nervously, but deliberately and demurely. Thrice she fed her
brood, thrusting her beak, which bore no external signs of food, deep
down into the upturned gullets of the three children. Thrice she at-
tempted to brood her babes, and very handsome and very motherly she
looked, with fluffed feathers and mildly inquisitive eye; but the necessary
movement following an exposure sent her away for a season.
When absent, she neither moped nor scolded, but discreetly set
about scratching for food, always within a range of ten or fifteen feet of
the nest. At such times she would look up trustfully and unabashed.
Upon the return she never flew, and there was nothing to advise the
waiting camerist of her approach, save the rustle of leaves as she came
hop, hopping, until she stood upon the familiar brim.
The opportunities for picture-making were simply unlimited, save
for the weakness of the leaf-diluted light. Seldom have I been stirred
to such admiration as in the case of this gentle mother schistacea. So
SH
The Fox Sparrows
demure, so even-tempered, and so kindly a bird-person, with such a
preserving air of gentle breeding, I have not often seen. It was an hour
to be long remembered.
No. 651 Warner Mountains Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585c, part. Passerella iliaca fulva Swarth.
Description.—Very similar to P. 7. schistacea, but bill larger and differently
shaped, with notable increase of basal dimensions: culmen 12.1 (.476); depth of bill
at base II.1 (.437), width at base 9.5 (.374); tail longer than wing, 82.2 (3.236), as
against 80 (3.15); other dimensions about as in schistacea.
Range of P. 7. fulua—As at present defined is wholly included within the limits
of California. Breeds in the Warner Mountains, Modoc County. Winter range
not yet defined, but a specimen (M. C. O. coll.) taken at Santa Barbara, Jan. 11,
1913, is referred by Swarth to this form.
Authorities.—Swarth, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xxxi., 1918, p. 162 (Sugar
Hill, Modoc Co.; orig. desc.); Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 158, figs.
(occurrence in Calif., distr., desc., crit.); Bendire (Passerella iliaca schistacea, part),
Auk, vol. vi., 1889, p. 113 (eastern Oregon; nest and eggs, habits, etc.).
No. 65) Thick-billed Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585c, part. Passerella iliaca megarhyncha Baird.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. fulva, but browner, amounting to an olivaceous
cast over upper plumage; bill much stouter, intermediate in this regard, as in brownness
of plumage, between fulva and brevicauda.
Range of P. 7. megarhyncha.—Breeding range undefined; may prove to be the
breeding bird of the Cascade system in Oregon and Washington, or at least of the south-
ern portion of that system. Winters commonly in the San Diegan district north at
least to Fort Tejon, Kern County, and west to Santa Barbara (M. C. O. coll.).
Authorities.—Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 490 (Passerella
schistacea, part); idem, p. 925 (Passerella megarhynchus, Ft. Tejon, orig. desc.); Swarth,
Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 161, figs. (occurrence in Calif., distr., desc.,
crit.).
No. 65k Yolla Bolly Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585c, part. Passerella iliaca brevicauda Mailliard.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. megarhyncha, but darker and browner with fur-
ther increase of bill dimensions, comparable in this regard to P. 7. stephensi, from which,
however, it differs markedly in color-pattern and in shape of bill, which is constricted
distally. Measurements: wing 83 (3.27); tail 84 (3.31); culmen 13.3 (.52), depth
14.1 (.55), width at base 11.8 (.465); tarsus 23.8 (.937).
Range (Possibly wholly included within California)—Breeds in the northern
interior and coastal ranges (the Trinities, Yolla Bollies, etc.) of California; winters
from Marin County south (at least) to Santa Barbara.
Authorities.— Oberholser (Passerella iliaca stephenst), Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus.,
vol. xxii., 1900, p. 233; J. Mailliard, Condor, vol. iv., 1912, p. 63; tbid., vol. xx., 1918,
p- 138 (South Yolla Bolly Mt.; orig. desc.); zbid., vol. xxiii., 1921, p. 178 (migr.);
Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 165, figs. (occurrence in Calif., distr.,
desc., crit.).
378
The Fox Sparrows
No. 651 White Mountains Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585c, part. Passerella iliaca canescens Swarth.
Description.—‘‘From schistacea, canescens may be differentiated by its de-
cidedly more grayish coloration. This is strikingly apparent when freshly molted
birds of the two subspecies are compared, and it is also evident in the juvenal plumage.
In worn midsummer birds these color differences naturally are obscured’’ (Swarth).
A dubious candidate for nomenclatural recognition, albeit the tendency toward gray-
ness does undoubtedly exist.
Range of P. 7. canescens.—Breeds in the White Mountains of California (and
presumably in Nevada). Winter range undefined, but specimens taken at Blythe
on the Colorado River, and at Mt. Wilson, Los Angeles County, referred to this form
by Swarth, the original describer.
Authorities.—Fisher (Passerella iliaca schistacea), N. Am. Fauna, no. 7,
1893, p. 102 (White Mts.); Swarth, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xxxi., 1918, p. 163
(White Mts.; orig. desc.); Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 169, figs. (occurrence
in Calif., distr., desc., crit.).
No. 65m Mono Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585b, part. Passerella iliaca monoensis Grinnell & Storer.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. schistacea, but slightly grayer and with much
stouter bill—comparable in this regard to P. 7. fulva, which is a much browner bird.
Remarks.— Monoensis is possibly the ‘‘lightest’’ of the recognizable forms of
P. iliaca. Bearing in mind that a name is a mere tag, a bit of intellectual furniture
attached to, or ‘‘wished on’’ a group of natural objects, we must constantly strive to
free ourselves from the groundless notion that neighboring groups so tagged are of
equal value. The Fox Sparrows found along the eastern flanks of the Sierras have
somewhat smaller bills than those found further west. This tendency has been traced
as far south as Kearsarge Pass, but it appears to find its strongest expression about
Mono Lake. The affinities of monoensts are with maripose, and it probably does not
deserve nomenclatural distinction from it.
Range of P. 7. monoensis (Wholly included within the State).—Breeds in
high Transition in the Mono Lake region. Winter range unknown.
Authorities.—Grinnell and Storer, Condor, vol. xix., 1917, p. 165 (Mono
Lake P. O.; orig. desc.); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 170, figs.
(occurrence in Calif., distr., desc., crit.).
No. 65n Yosemite Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585b, part. Passerella iliaca mariposz Swarth.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. monoensis, but bill slightly larger: length of bill
12.7 (.50); depth at base 12.4 (.488); width 10.6 (.417). General tone of upperparts
in worn (breeding) plumage brownish gray (nearest chetura drab, Ridgway); spotting
of underparts dusky, not rufescent.
Range of P. 7. maripose (Wholly included within California)—‘‘As shown
by specimens at hand, occurs in summer from the vicinity of Mount Shasta south
along the Sierra Nevada, on the west slope at least as far as the Yosemite region,
on the east slope to Kearsarge Pass’’ (Swarth). Winter range undefined, although
HQ
The Fox Sparrows
there are examples from the San Diego district (e. g., Santa Barbara, Oct. 31, 1913
—M. C. O. coll.).
Authorities.—Cooper (Passerella megarhynchus, part?), Orn. Calif., 1870,
p. 222 (Sierra Nevada); Ingersoll, Condor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 84 (destruction of nests
and eggs) ; Swarth, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xxxi., 1918, p. 161 (Chinquapin, Yosemite
Park; orig. desc.); Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 173, figs. (occurrence in
Calif.; distr., desc., crit.); J. Mailliard, Condor, vol. xxi., 1919, p. 76 (desc. nests, habits,
etc.); J. W. Mailliard, Condor, vol. xxiii., 1921, p. 73 (desc. nests, habits, etc.).
THE “SPECIATION specialists” are having a gay time just now
with our Fox Sparrows. The latest authority, H. S. Swarth, of Berkeley,
triumphantly announces that ‘“‘the total number of recognizable sub-
species of Passerella iliaca is now sixteen; and all of these occur at some
season within the State.’’ Sacre bleu! how is a plain citizen to make his
way in such a maze of quiddities! And all of these alleged varieties are
migratory, so that John Henry on his weekly bird-hike has sixteen guesses
for every bird he sees. Verily, ornithology has ceased to be an exact
science. Oh, of course the evidence is indisputable. I do not dispute it.
But, also, it is quite certain that my left eye differs by definable niceties
from its mate; and that the distal reticulations on the wings of a colony
of flies hatched on the north side of the barn are appreciably smaller
than the corresponding surfaces from a colony reared in the pigpen.
Very good! but what of it? The recognition of subspecies has become too
subtle a game for the
laity to follow. Let us
speak of Fox Sparrows;
and since we may not be
sure what we have at
any other season, let us
speak of them in nesting
time.
“Gentle, urbane, and
ubiquitous’” were three
adjectives applied by the
author’s note-book to the
Fox Sparrows studied near
Mammoth Camp, June 7th
ton siuly .7ithhe toro = But
though these birds were dom-
inant in mixed pine and fir
Taken i :
Mono County —= | forests lying between the
Meee Sai ind —— If $8000 and 9000 foot level, they
were not to be won by
The Fox Sparrows
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF MONO FOX SPARROW, IN BUCK-THORN
pleasant words into any betrayal of nesting secrets. Our camp was
pitched in a little grove of pines surrounded by abundant buck brush
(Ceanothus cordatus) mingled with a hardy species of wild currant and
overlooked, in turn, by scattering firs. Every morning we heard the
cheery peewit wheeo and the jumble of syllables with which the male
quickly checks his emotions. There were three or four pairs about.
They visited our camp daily for crumbs, and we saw them gather nesting
material, sometimes at our very feet. But though we searched every
sapling and thrashed about in the brush for hours, we saw never a trace
of a nest in that vicinity. The birds were baffling, maddening, spookish
—and urbane always.
At a lower level we had better, or at least different, luck. Over
a stretch which parallel creeks had rendered liable to flood, we found a
virtual colony of these crafty innocents. The bottom here was over-
shadowed by towering firs, but also half covered by quaking asp saplings,
each broken-backed from the insufferable weight of winter snows. In
these twisted knots of vegetable agony, or else upon prostrate or half
recumbent masses of willow stems, the ‘“Thick-bills’” (megarhyncha or
3ST
The Fox Sparrows
monoensis or mammothensis, ad gust.) had built laborious nests. On
June 11th we found ourselves between seasons, with much evidence of
care for first broods and some symptoms of renewed interest in courtship
and nest-building. Of two nests we did find containing young, one
was placed six feet high in a dead fir sapling set in deep shadow. The
owner, a confiding lady clad in deepest earth-brown raiment, came and
went without the slightest regard for our presence. The other nest
was lodged on a bunch of recumbent stems a foot or more above the
ground. This spot was exposed to the full rays of the sun at midday,
and the female divided her time between efforts to decoy the stranger
with the great glass eye, and determined broodings, or shadings, of the
panting young. The male, meanwhile, hopped about me with friendly
curiosity, or else tried the air with song. As to any misfortune befalling
the children, why that was plainly impossible—between gentlemen.
At a later time in the same season we found nine nests, building or
ready for eggs—the second brood. But on the 5th of July every nest
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
“DETERMINED BROODINGS, OR SHADINGS, OF THE PANTING YOUNG”
The Fox Sparrows
stood empty, save one which had a punctured egg. Nucifraga colum-
biana, he of the black heart and the raucous voice, had passed that way.
In Nutcracker parlance, these trustful sparrows were no doubt rated
“easy guys,” but I wonder! Oh, if there be a Paradise for the lesser live
things, I am sure that Clark’s Crow will be cast into outer darkness.
Later experiences in the Mammoth section showed Yosemite (or
Mono, or Mammotho, or whichever one of the sweet sixteen 0’ Fox
Sparrows Mr. Swarth allows us here) Fox Sparrows nesting commonly
in every sort of cover at the lower forest levels—buck brush, manzanita,
pine or fir saplings, half-dead willow clumps, and especially on the knees
of broken-down aspens. Threes are the usual complement of eggs, but
fours mark a favorable season; and one has to be on the lookout that the
set is not adulterated by the presence of an egg of the Nevada Cowbird.
The breeding ranges of the White-crowned Sparrow (Zonotrichia
leucophrys) and the local Passerella overlap considerably, and at certain
sections of contact between these two species, similarity of setting has
wrought for uniformity of product. This has been carried so far in a cer-
tain swamp at the 8000-foot level near Mammoth, that the nests of the two
species are indistinguishable either in material, workmanship, or placing,
save as identified by the proprietary actions of the birds themselves.
I know of no other such instance in nature.
Taken in the San Bernardino Mountains Photo by Wright M. Pierce
STEPHENS FOX SPARROW APPROACHING NEST IN BUCK-THORN
383
The Fox Sparrows
STEPHENS FOX SPARROW
No. 650 Stephens’s Fox Sparrow
A. O. U. No. 585d. Passerella iliaca stephensi Anthony.
Fl Description.—Similar to P. i. maripose in coloration, but size averaging
slightly larger and bill at maximum of development, relatively enormous. Measures:
wing 83.4 (3.28); tail 86 (3.386); culmen 14.8 (.58); depth at base 14.3 (.56); width
12.2 (.48).
Range of P. i. stephensi.—Breeds in the higher mountains of southern Cali-
fornia from about Latitude 36° in the Sierras. Winter range unknown, presumably
the mountains of Lower California.
Authorities.—Morcom (Passerella iliaca megarhyncha), Bull. Ridgway Orn.
Club, no. 2, 1887, p. 50 (San Bernardino Mts., breeding); Anthony, Auk, vol. xii.,
1895, p. 348 (San Jacinto Mts.; orig. desc.); Grinnell, Auk, vol. xxii., 1905, p. 388
(Mt. Pinos; habits, meas., crit.); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxi., 1920, p. 176,
figs. (occurrence in Calif., distr., desc., crit.); Pierce, Condor, vol. xxiii., 1921, p. 80,
figs. (desc. and photos of nests and eggs).
384
STRENGTHENING
of the mandibles is one
of the most familiar lines
of development in spar-
rows, the world over.
Just why it should so
conspicuously affect the
Californian races of the
wide-spread Fox Spar-
row group, we are not
quite prepared to say;
but it is probably be-
cause of the larger pro-
portion which nuts and
the sturdier seeds bear
in their bill of fare. De-
velopment in this regard
is fairly rapid, too, so
that we may not learn
from this character alone
whether the megarhyn-
cha and stephenst types
are derived from a
northern stock, or
whether they simply
went on growing after
their fellows emigrated
to cooler northern
climes. Be that as it
may, it is certain that
southern California has
given its sparrowchildren
harder nuts to crack and
tougher twigs to weave
The Fox Sparrows
Taken in San Bernardino Mountains Photo by Wright M. Pierce
NEST AND EGGS OF STEPHENS FOX SPARROW ON GROUND
UNDER BUCK-THORN
into nests—and has presented them, as a consequence, with bigger bills.
For P. 1. stephenst, of the southern mountains, is preéminent in this regard,
having a bill fifty per cent thicker than that of P. 2. fulva, upon our north-
ern border. There are those who are inconsiderate enough to hint that
certain other institutions in southern California are characterized by big
bills. Perhaps the proprietors of these establishments would do well to
place caged examples of Stephens’s Fox Sparrow in their lobbies by way of
justification, and answer to grumbling guests, “Que voulez vous? C'est
le climat. Voila tout.”
385
The Green-tailed Towhee
No. 66
Green-tailed Towhee
A. O. U. No. 592.1. Oberholseria chlorura (Audubon).
Synonyms.—GREEN-TAILED FINCH. BLANDING’S FINCH.
Description.—Adults (sexes alike): Crown and occiput rich chestnut; fore-
head blackish gray, with whitish loral spot on each side; cheeks mingled gray and
white; a short malar streak white, and a narrow, sharply defined sub-malar streak
dark gray; remaining upperparts olive-gray, tinged more or less with bright olive-
green. Wings and tail with brighter greenish edgings (pyrite yellow to warbler green) ;
bend of wing, axillars, and under coverts yellow; chin and throat white, sharply de-
fined and with convex posterior outline; sides of head and neck and remaining under-
parts neutral gray, clearing to white on abdomen, tinged with buffy or brownish on
sides, flanks, and crissum; under tail-coverts clear cream-buff. Bill blackish above,
paler below; legs brown, toes darker; irides cinnamon. Immature birds are brown
above, tinged with greenish and streaked with dusky, but with wings and tail much
asinadult. Nestlings show greenish on wings alone, and are otherwise finely streaked
above and below. Length of adult about 190.5-203 (7.50-8.00); wing 80 (3.15);
tail 84 (3.30); bill 12.7 (.50); tarsus 24 (.94).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; chestnut crown, white throat; greenish
coloration of upperparts, especially tail and wings.
Nesting.— Nest: Low in bushes, especially sage (Artemisia tridentata), often
well concealed; a bulky affair of twigs, weed-stems, pine-needles, etc.; lined with root-
lets, grasses, or, rarely, horsehair. Eggs: 3 or 4; palest bluish or grayish white,
finely and almost uniformly sprinkled or spotted with light reddish brown (terra cotta
and testaceous to walnut-brown) and (concealed) purplish gray. Av. size 20.8 x 15.5
(.82 x .61). Season: May-July; two broods.
General Range.—Western United States and northern Mexico; breeding from
central Oregon and south central Montana to western Texas and southern California;
wintering from southern portion of its breeding range south to Cape San Lucas and
Guanajuato.
Distribution in California.—Summer resident in high Transition, chiefly
east of the Sierran divide, from the Warner Mountains south to the desert ranges
and the San Jacinto Mountains. Also breeds, northwesterly, at least to Sissons
(July 16, 1916), and southwesterly to Mt. Pinos (Grinnell), and south centrally along
the western slopes of the Sierras. Abundant during migrations easterly; and recorded
variously in the northern coastal ranges. Has occurred in winter in the San Diegan
district.
Authorities.—Heermann (Embernagra Blandingiana), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci.
Phila., ser. 2, ii., 1853, p. 265); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1908, p. 103
(San Bernardino Mts.; nesting habits, etc.); H. C. Bryant, Condor, vol. xili., 1911, pp.
203, 204 (food); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 87 (s. Calif.; occurrence,
nesting dates, etc.); Ingersoll, Condor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 84 (destruction of nests).
IT SEEMS absurd to call this bird a Towhee at all. To appearance
it is, rather, an overgrown Warbler, or a cross, say, between a Yellow-
386
No. 66
: he : ee | Green-tailed Towhee
A. 0. U. No. 592.3. Oberholseria chloruca (Audubon).
Synonyms,-—Grren-raiLep Pinca. Biannine’s Finca:
Deseription.—-Adults (sexes alike): Créwa and occiput rich chestnut; fore-
head blackish gray, with whitieh loral spot on each side; cheeks mingled gray and
white; a Short malar streak white, and a narrow, sharply. defined sub-malar streak
dark grav; remaining Bpperparts olive-geay, Gaged more or Jess with bright olive-
green, Wings and tail with iieigider greenish cdgings (pyrite yellow to warbler green);
bend of wink asillars, aud wader ceverts Yellow; chin and throat white, sharply de;
fined and with convex postering outline: sides ci head and neck and remaining under-
Ht on abdomen, tinged with buffy or brownish on
wader isticoveris clear eream-bufl. Bill blackish above,, >
darker; trides cinnanion. Lmmiature birds are brown
and streaked with dusky, but with wings and tail much
» gréosish on wings alone, and are otherwise finely streaked
of etiute about £90:5-203 (7.50-8.00); wing 80]. oh
+; tareads 24 £94);
ee ‘2 sll
i
party neniral gray,
sides, Re fers
waler Bein: igs ty
abeve oud WEEK,
ae Taw :
anys. 2
bP ace acta er
Hincraoiion Sache. ‘Sparrow size; chestnut crown, white ola ee
rolornuiath of unperparte, eopecially tail and wings.
Nawtt = Mest o£ -»Green-tailed ‘Towhee (Arlemisia ipleniaiens often
watt concreleds a bulky adlait of twigs, we d-stems, pine-needles, etc,; lined with root-
lets grasses, of: rarely, horsehair: L,¥@ like size, nalest bluish or grayish white,
finely anil alynust wail 1 From seater-color. painting by Major: Brooks sh brown (terra cotta
and tesixetsous to watput-brown) and (concealed) purplish gray, Av. size 20.8 x 15.5 oS
(.§2-x 61). Season:. May-July; two broods.
General Range,— Western United States and northern Mexico; breeding from
central Dreyon dad south central Montana to western Texas and southern California;
wintering from southern portion of its breeding range south to Cape San Lucas and
Cuwanajuate.
Tistributien in Califernia.—Summer resident in high Transition, chiefly
enst of the Sterran divide, front the Warner Mountains south to the desert ranges
ane the Son Jacings Miaunteins, Also breeds, northwesterly, at least to Sissons
iPaky 16. abby ane poathweererly to Mt. Pinos (Grinnell), and south centrally along
ma western slopes of rhe Sierras. Abundant during migrations easterly; and recorded _
Has occurred in winter in the San Diegan ~
+ C. Di Aer
iy PRE Mere TAT aaeeiad te
Awterivios. -Meerauinn (fiperaagra Biandingiana), Jour: Acad. Nat. Sci.
Pink, “wea a. £ESS, 1. 205): Gopal, Vie. Calif, Pub: Zool... vol. v.))1908,)p: 103
ition thirhovdins Mia., sesiing habits, erp: JC) Bryant, Condor, vol. xii.) 19x1, pp.
3
Wilkes, eo Weent Aviiauna, no: 7.1912) p. 87 (s: Calif.; occurrence,
novel, Cosor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 84 (destruction of nests)
UY SEE SS alseued to call this bird a Towhee at all. To appearance,’
‘yatier. an overgroan Warbler, or a cross, say, between a Yellow-
The Green-tailed Towhee
Taken in the Warner Mountains Photo by the Author
A TIMBERLINE HAUNT OF THE GREEN-TAILED TOWHEE
breasted Chat and a Chipping Sparrow. Its crown is sparrow-red;
the white throat, sharply outlined against a background of gray, is
typically sparrow-like; but the wings and tail, of authentic ‘‘warbler
green,’ lead us to expect at least an Icterian vivacity, and in this, for-
tunately, we shall not be disappointed. Oberholseria is the familiar spirit
of the high-lying sage. Active, persuasive, incessant, yet discreet withal,
the presence of the Green-tailed Towhee imparts to the visitor of the
Sierran slopes the same sense of mystery, of evasiveness, and of com-
petent surveillance with which the Western Chat holds his willow bottoms
or his mesquite thickets in vassal expectancy. In several trips to the
Sierra Nevadas and the Warners, I have learned to recognize this bird in
many roles and disguises, but it was ten years before I had penetrated
the secret of his domestic economies, or had succeeded in reducing his
wayward irruption to any prosaic order.
The key to Oberholseria’s presence, as well as Towheeness, is primarily
vocal. The commonest note heard in the upland sage or lupine associ-
ation is a dainty mewing. This will be uttered, as likely as not, under
inspection, mew-mewew—mew—mew whee,—a little plaintive, but friendly
387
The Green-tailed Towhee
and inviting enough. Of song the bird possesses a surprising repertory.
There is something dashing and wren-like about his more familiar ditties,
and also something faintly reminiscent of the Vesper Sparrow (Poecetes
gramineus). Meay, tsit sit sit sit reminds me of orthodox Pzipilo, and
Ah fewgee weeee pilly willy willy will carry one right back to Pzpilo ery-
throphthalmus—or will, that is, when one gets over the surprise of the
opening notes, which in the case of two birds heard at Goose Lake were
strikingly like those of the Eastern Phoebe (Sayornis phoebe). The Green-
Taken in San Bernardino Mountains Photo by Wright M. Pierce
NEST AND EGGS OF THE GREEN-TAILED TOWHEE
358
tailed Towhee, I suspect,
also, of being a bit of a
mimic as well as a wag.
One vivacious outburst
from the chaparral hard
by our Goose Lake
camp sounded at first
like a White-crowned
Sparrow at his best; then
it shifted to a wild med-
ley in which I recognized
not only the call of the
Red-shafted Flicker,
but certain phrases of
the Western Lark Spar-
row. Mind, I am not
absolutely sure it was
the Towhee, but he
mewed a moment later,
and he was my only sus-
pect. In singing, the
bird takes a very modest
position on the side of a
sage bush, and while he
is not especially wary in
these circumstances, it
is hard to get a clear
view of colors so exqui-
sitely blended.
The secrets of this
bird’s nesting lie in the
fact that it uniformly
selects dense cover, how-
ever prosaic, the heart
The Green-tailed Towhee
of a sage-bush or a greasewood clump, or, it may be, a stand of buck-
brush, and that the bird almost invariably glides off upon approach,
in silence and with an evasive rapidity which baffles the eye of all but
the most expert. Having been shown my bird’s nest in the heart of
a low-lying sage (Artemisia tridentata) I retired for half an hour, then
returned rapidly with senses on the alert. At six feet a something de-
tached itself from the marked bush and scuttled away for a distance
of 30 feet, all in perfectly plain view, but so almost instantaneously as
to leave only a faint flare of color. After that, silence. Except for
those telltale eggs I might have been persuaded that only a lizard had
shot away into the desert’s depths.
The nests themselves are rather insipid affairs, sturdy enough
as to the bowl proper, but lacking coherence or. finish as to wall con-
struction. The closely crowding twigs of the parent bush are evidently
expected to do duty for walls. Occasional nests rest upon the ground,
but most of them are raised a foot or so above it. The eggs, finely
dotted with prosy brown, are inconspicuous enough at best. Once,
in the open sage west of Convict Creek, I flushed a Pacific Nighthawk,
but not being able to find her eggs quickly, I cast about for a suitable
twig to tag for a return trial. Cotton in hand I bent low and fumbled
with a denuded flower-spike of a greasewood, saw another a foot away
which reached a little higher, so turned and tied to it. Returning, an
hour later, I hunted in vain for the Nighthawk’s eggs, and finally stooped
to retrieve the cotton marker. <A rustle and a gleam and the Green-tail
flushed from under the very twig which I had first handled. I had
peered down into a nest with four eggs, unseeing, with my hand not over
ten inches away.
By the time one has wrestled for six or eight seasons with this same
combination of impudence, tunefulness, artfulness, and furtiveness, the
Green-tailed Towhee comes to bulk large in the scheme of things. He
or she is a most unforgettable bird-person.
In spite of the striking superficial differences which exist between
the Green-tailed Towhee and those members of the genus Pipilo with
which we in the United States happen to be acquainted, it is altogether
probable that the bird should be restored to a place in a larger group.
As Ridgway has pointed out,! chlorura possesses no color character not
found in at least one other member of the genus Pipilo; and the very fact
that this bird has these characters in common with the others would
seem to designate it as the typical and central member of the genus,
rather than an aberrant form. The separation, moreover, fails to take
account of the striking similarity in the birds’ songs; and it altogether
1 Auk, Vol. VII., 1890, pp. 193-194.
389
The Spotted Towhees
overlooks the emphatic testimony of the egg, although the fundamental
value of such evidence has been repeatedly pointed out in these pages.
Egg-wise and voice-wise, ‘“‘Oberholseria”’ chlorura and Pipilo maculatus are
much more nearly related than, say, P. maculatus and P. fuscus or cris-
salis. Shall we call it Pipilo chlorura?
No. 67
Spotted Towhee
No. 67a San Diego Towhee
A. O. U. No. 588d. Pipilo maculatus megalonyx Baird.
Synonyms.—SPurRRED TOWHEE. SAN DIEGO SpoTTED TOWHEE.
Description.—Aduli male in spring and summer: Head and neck all around
and breast glossy black, the black of remaining upperparts dulling posteriorly, es-
pecially upon rump and remiges; the scapulars heavily marked with longitudinal spots
of white, included or else occupying entire outer web of feathers; median and greater
wing-coverts tipped with white, with touches also on outer web of primaries midway,
and on tertials near tip. Outer pair of rectrices narrowly margined and broadly tipped
with white; succeeding pair less broadly tipped; third pair with included sub-apical
spot; underparts centrally pure white, the sides and flanks tawny, the tips of posterior
flank-feathers tawny, the anal region and under tail-coverts lighter, ochraceous; the
line of demarcation from abdomen sometimes touched with black; tibiz black, with
more or less white tips; axillars whitish; wing-linings mingled blackish, white, and
pale tawny. Irides red; bill black; feet and tarsi dark brown. Fall and winter spect-
mens have feathers of upperparts slightly washed or tipped with pale tawny, especially
upon rump. Female in spring: Similar to male, but duller, the black veiled with
olivaceous gray, the ground-color strongest on throat and chest and persisting centrally
on pileum and noteum; the white tips of scapulars, rectrices, etc., more restricted;
the tibiae dusky. Immature birds present a highly streaked appearance, not un-
suggestive of a female Redwing (Agelaius pheniceus): Upperparts blackish, mar-
gined with cinnamon-buff, the ochraceous element becoming almost clear, cinnamon-
brown, on head and hind-neck; the white spotting of adult much restricted; under-
parts mingled blackish, whitish, and cinnamon-buff, the white element strengthening
on abdomen, the ochraceous prevailing on flanks and crissum; the throat, chest, and
sides of breast finely streaked. The comparison of one of these juvenals with that of
the Brown Towhee (P. crissalis) is highly instructive, and points clearly to a common
ancestry. Length of males about 201.6 (8.00); av. of 10 M. V. Z. specimens (after
Swarth): wing 84.6 (3.33); tail 96.4 (3.795); bill 27.2 (1.07); tarsus 27.2 (1.07); hind
toe and claw 21.3 (.84).
Recognition Marks for Pipilo maculatus —Black, white, and tawny colora-
tion distinctive. As compared with the easterly races of maculatus, megalonyx shows
clearer black upon the back and restriction of white spotting.
Nesting.— Nest: Placed on the ground, or, rarely, very low in bushes, and
390
The Spotted Towhees
usually sunk deeply in loose leaf-waste or trash; composed of grasses, bark-strips,
dried leaves, lined with fine grasses. Eggs: 3 or 4; white or palest bluish, grayish,
or pinkish, finely and heavily and oftenest uniformly sprinkled or spotted with reddish
brown (cameo-brown to liver-brown). In more heavily marked specimens the color
tends to coalesce in a cloud cap. Av. of 13 specimens in M. C. O. coll.: 23 x 17.3
(.905 x .68). Season: May, June; one or two broods.
Range of Pipilo maculatus——Western North America from British Columbia
and southern Saskatchewan to Guatemala.
Range of P. m. megalonyx.—Resident in the Pacific Coast district of southern
California and northern Lower California, north along coast to San Luis Obispo County,
east to southern Sierras (northern Kern County). Also Santa Cruz Island and (pre-
sumably) Santa Rosa.
Authorities.—Gambel (Pipilo arcticus), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. i.,
1847, p. 54 (?) (California); Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 515 (Ft.
Tejon; orig. desc.) ; Swarth, Condor, vol. vii., 1905, p. 171, fig., map (distr.; crit.) ; zbzd.,
vol. xv., 1913, p. 167, fig., map (distr.; crit.); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917,
p- 85 (Santa Cruz Id.).
No. 67b San Clemente Towhee
A. O. U. No. 588c. Pipilo maculatus clementz Grinnell.
Description.—‘‘General size slightly greater than in megalonyx: bill and feet
appreciably larger. Coloration grayer than in megalonyx; black areas in the male
duller and less intense; rump and lower back more or less mixed with grayish’’ (Swarth).
Range of P. m. clemente (Wholly within California) —San Clemente and
Santa Catalina islands; resident.
Authorities.—Cooper (Pipilo megalonyx), Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 242, part
(San Clemente and Santa Catalina Ids.); Grinnell, Auk, vol. xiv., 1897, p. 294 (San
Clemente Id.; orig. desc.); Pasadena Acad. Sci. Pub., no. 1, 1897, p. 19 (habits, notes,
etc.); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 85 (distr., habits, etc.).
No. 67¢ San Francisco Towhee
A. O. U. No. 588b. Pipilo maculatus falcifer McGregor.
Description.—Similar to P. m. megalonyx, but averaging slightly smaller;
white spotting more restricted; hind toe and claw weaker.
Range of P. m. falcifey—Resident in the humid coast strip from Monterey
County north to and perhaps beyond the northern boundary of California.
Authorities.—Townsend (Pipilo maculatus oregonus), Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus.,
vol. x., 1887, p. 220 (Humboldt Co.); Cohen, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899,
p. 61 (nesting habits, at Alameda); McGregor, Condor, vol. ii., 1900, p. 43 (Palo Alto;
orig. desc.); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, p. 86, part (food in
Calif.) ; Swarth, Condor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 175, fig., map (crit., range, etc.).
No. 674 Oregon Towhee
A. O. U. No. 588b. Pipilo maculatus oregonus Bell. :
Description.—Similar to P. m. megalonyx but darker every way. White
spotting on scapulars, etc., much rectricted; outermost pair of rectrices not edged
with white.
SOL
The Spotted Towhees
Range of P. m. oregonus.—The Northwest Pacific Coast district, broadly,
from Oregon to British Columbia.
Occurrence in California.—Accidental; one record: San Clemente Island,
Dec. 4, 1908, by C. B. Linton.
Authorities.—Linton, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 194 (San Clemente Id., one spec.,
Dec. 4, 1908); Swarth, Condor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 172 (crit.).
No. 67e Sacramento Towhee
A. O. U. No. 588b, part. Pipilo maculatus falcinellus Swarth.
Description.—Similar to P. m. megalonyx, but white markings more extended;
rump more olivaceous or grayer; foot weaker, with smaller hind claw.
Range of P. m. falcinellus.—Resident in the great interior valley and, broadly,
throughout the Sierras (south at least to southern Tulare County), eastern slopes of
northern coast ranges, and thence north indefinitely beyond the northern boundary
line of California.
Authorities.— Ridgway (Pipilo erythrophthalmus oregonus), Bull. Essex Inst.,
vol. vi., 1874, p. 171 (Sacramento); Barlow, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 173 (habits,
nests and eggs); Swarth, Condor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 172, fig., map (orig. desc.; Marysville
Buttes, type locality; distr.; crit.); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, p. 86
(San Joaquin Valley; habits).
No. 67f Nevada Spotted Towhee
A. O. U. No. 588a, part. Pipilo maculatus curtatus Grinnell.
Synonyms.—SpPuRRED TOWHEE. MOoOUNTAIN TOWHEE.
Description.—Similar to P. m. megalonyx, but black of upperparts less pure
grayer; white markings notably increased and carried clear across the back; tawny
of sides, etc., paler and more restricted; apical white spots of 3rd pair of rectrices more
extended; hind claw notably weaker.
Range of P. m. curtatus—Summer resident throughout an undefined area of
the Great Basin region, including at least northern Nevada, northeastern California,
and eastern Oregon; also (probably) the Upper Sonoran and arid Transition zones of
eastern Washington and western Idaho north into British Columbia. Winter range
undefined, but includes at least portions of the lower Colorado Valley.
Occurrence in California.—Breeds in the Warner Mountains of Modoc
County; winters at Colorado River points.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. vii., 1911, p. 310 (Colorado
R.); ¢bad., vol. xii., 1914, p. 177 (Colorado R.; habits; crit.) ; Swarth, Condor, vol. xv.,
1913, p. 167, fig., map (distr. in Calif.; crit.).
No. 67g Mountain Towhee
A. O. U. No. 588a, part. Pipilo maculatus montanus Swarth.
Synonym.—ArIzona SpoTTED TOWHEE.
Description.—Similar to P. m. megalonyx, but paler every way; back and rump
with admixture of gray; white markings more extended and diffuse; apical spotting
of tail more extended; hind claw weaker.
392
The Spotted Towhees
Range of P. m. montanus.—The southern Rocky Mountain region from Wyoming
south to Tamaulipas, Mexico, and west south of the Great Basin to the desert ranges
of eastern California.
Distribution in California.—Known only from the Panamint Mountains,
in Inyo County, where breeding.
Authorities.—Fisher (Pipilo maculatus megalonyx), N. Am. Fauna, no. 7,
1893, p. 102, part (Panamint Mts.) ; Grinnell, Condor, vol. xx., 1918, p. 87 (Panamint
Mts.; crit.).
SPURRED TOWHEE, MALE
THE SPOTTED Towhee bulks large in the economy of the under-
world. He is, in fact, its acknowledged prince; not, of course, in the
Mephistophelian sense, but as the undoubted aristocrat among those
humble folk who skulk under dark ferns, thread marvelous mazes of
interlacing sticks and stalks, sort over the leafy wastage of the careless
trees, and understand the foundations of things generally. To really get
Master Towhee’s point of view, one must be willing to creep on hands
and knees among the bristling stems of mountain lilac and chamise
of a southern mesa, or else go belly-wise through the rootage and cast-
off duffle of a northern forest. It is a wonderful world the serpent
sees (albeit a mussy one), a basic, essential world, where all flesh meets
35)
Taken in Pasadena
The Spotted Towhees
you on a common level. If dinner be the quest, here is a table always
spread. Help yourself, for ‘‘self-service” is the inflexible rule, and ‘‘hors
d ouvres”’ the exception. Under a fragment of a tree’s cast-off garment
lies a grub in wriggling invitation; and here where weeds of two genera-
tions have cast their bones, a spider, not adroit enough by half, has con-
cealed a hamper full of toothsome eggs. Dinner is from six to six (and
again from six to six for the night shift), and the full belly is to the indus-
trious. Towhee is thoroughly at home here, and scratching for food is his
job. This he pursues not by the methodical clutch and scrape of the old
hen, but by a succession of backward kicks, executed with spirit by both
feet at once, and assisted by a compensatory flash of the wings. By this
method not only lurking insects but fallen seeds of a hundred sorts are
brought quickly to light, and these the bird swiftly
devours.
But we started to speak of Towhee’s pre-
éminence, not of his dining. His chieftainship
~~
Photo by Donald R. Dickey
SAN DIEGO TOWHEE, FEMALE
S94
“>
n/4 San Diego Towhee
From a photograph by Donald R. Dickey
Taken in the Ojai
The Spotted Towhees
is due in part, no doubt, toa certain fatherly alertness manifested on behalf
of the clan. No sound or movement, whether hostile or friendly, escapes
his notice. If the birdman’s entrance into the local bird setting be accom-
plished with a becoming modesty, he presently hears a mild, questioning
voice, me ay? or me ayuh? But if the man is unduly offensive, he hears
instantly an indignant marzé, marié, which sends the clan scattering. But
when the bird-watcher glimpses the chief's costume, the secret of his
ascendancy is out. Fine feathers still do make fine birds. Black-and-
white and earth red, picked out here and there with white spots, ‘‘macu-
lations,’ make an impressive uniform, and one to which we all yield
cheerful respect. But the marvel is how anything so spick and span can
emerge from such a chaos; or how beauty can maintain itself in constant
association with bugs and slugs and the innumerable horribilia of the
Kingdom of Underfoot.
Truth to tell, ‘““Beauty’’ emerges from concealment as rarely as pos-
sible. It is modesty again which gives the teasing fillip to our curiosity,
and the elusiveness which makes itself zpso facto an object of perpetual
friendly quest. Only at mating time does the Spotted Towhee throw
caution to the winds. Then he mounts a sapling and drones away by the
hour. The song is perhaps best described as a musical churr, a thing of
slight beauty, and of interest merely for its variety and for the sprightly
animation of the performer. By “‘variety’’ one uncovers the most fas-
cinating problem in connection with the Spotted Towhee, the problem
of geographical song variation. For the song of the individual Towhee
is inflexible, always the same, or at least self-consistent. But as one
travels from place to place in the West, he notes emphatic differences in
the songs of the Spotted Towhees, and he soon comes to believe that
these are locally constant, that there is in each locality a definite prevail-
ing type, or cadence, of song, and that this is significant for geographical
variation within the species.
Now the existence of races—that is, of geographical variations, as
indicated by constant differences in shade of plumage, extent of white
spotting, size of feet, etc.—is so well known within this species, that one
has to apologize for ignoring its distinctions in a popular treatment.
Suffice to say, by way of such apology, that these distinctions have been
enormously over-stressed, and that no layman with an hour’s instruction
could hope to tell whether a given specimen of one of California’s five
races came from San Diego, Alturas, or Humboldt County (indeed the
experts are still scrapping about it). But distinctions of song, in no
wise correlated, apparently, with those of hue or claw-length, do exist,
and it is a fascinating exercise for the travelled student to distinguish
them. Thus, northern birds say, whééééé or tswééé, in the dullest imagin-
ILS
The Spotted Towhees
able kind of a way. And, in general, the song is a simple, rapid itera-
tion, a churr. Yet in Owens Valley near Lone Pine, I heard putzeé
puizeé putzeé, and again from another throat a strange ventriloquial con-
tortion, hamx hamx ham(a)x. Not once in that section did I hear the
familiar wheeze, or churr; and the songs were all those of foreigners. In
Taken in Modoc County Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF THE NEVADA SPOTTED TOWHEE
the Yosemite Valley we heard a peculiar, lengthy, aspirated preface,
hoorip z' 2’ 2’; and this came in precisely similar accents from individuals a
mile apart.
The “‘liberty of difference’’ pertains, also, as certainly, to the ordi-
nary scolding, or keep-in-touch note, marié. This varies by shades too
subtle to describe; but the clear marié of Washington birds has shaded
off in the case of P. m. montanus of southern Arizona (the Patagonia
Mountains, to be explicit) to a blurred murr. Similarly the drawling
meay, or meayuh of P. m. oregonus has become meow yaaar in Santa Cruz
396
The Abert Towhee
County, and unmistakable meow yeaow on Santa Cruz Island. The last-
named note is so precisely that of the Green-tailed Towhee (Oberholseria
chlorura) that I reached my reluctant conclusion only after searching and
repeated investigation.
Towhee’s humble manner of life enables it to conduct its domestic
operations by stealth. It is only by accident that one discovers the nest,
deep set in the leafy covering of the ground, or flushes the close-sitting
bird. On April roth, 1915, on Santa Cruz Island, in a willow “‘bottom,”’
well shaded, and buried in heavy grass, I caught a glimpse of a black rat
shooting along the ground under a brush clump eight feet ahead. I had,
fortunately, seen “black rats’’ before, so I checked my steps instantly,
stooped and grasped firmly a dead branch which lay imbedded in the
grass at my feet. Wrenching this loose, three dainty eggs were disclosed,
in a sunken basket of coiled bark-strips and grasses—three eggs and a
system of runways by which the brooding bird could glide off under cover
for a considerable distance before emerging to view. There had not been
a sound of protest at first, but when they saw the game was up, the Tow-
hees confessed ownership vehemently enough. Sympathetic neighbors
dropped in—notably, a Hutton Vireo, which sat on a twig six feet over-
head and called me a bad man. But the affair was soon hushed up, and a
week or so later there were, no doubt, three more treasures buried under
the grass.
No. 68
Abert Towhee
A. O. U. No. 592. Pipilo aberti Baird.
Synonym.—DeEseErT TOWHEE.
Description.—A dult (sexes alike): General color cinnamon-gray. Above drab,
shading on sides to grayish cinnamon of underparts; red element of throat and chest
more intense, nearly fawn-color, palest (avellaneous) on breast, reintensifying pos-
teriorly; crissum mikado brown; face narrowly dull blackish, the color scattering and
passing out in flecks, especially upon throat. Bill grayish brown; tarsi light brown;
feet darker. Young: Like adults, but breast faintly streaked with dusky. Length
about 215.9-228.6 (8.50-9.00); wing 79 (3.10); tail 88.9 (3.50); bill 14 (.55); tarsus 26.6
(1.05). Females smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size; almost uniform drab coloration; paler
above and ruddier below than Pzipilo crissalis; face narrowly dusky.
Nesting.— Nest: A deep, well-made cup of twigs, grasses, weed-stems, and
trash; neatly lined with fine grasses or horsehair; placed at moderate heights in bushes
SY.
The Abert Towhee
or trees. Eggs: 3 or 4; pale bluish green (much paler than pale niagara green),
marked sharply and sparingly, often curiously, and chiefly at the larger end, with black
or deep brownish black, rarely with subdued shell-markings of purplish gray. The
markings sometimes group into a wreath of interwoven hieroglyphics, and the eggs
are at such times, or indeed at all times, roughly comparable to those of the Agelaius
Redwings. Av. of 80 southern Arizonian specimens in the M. C. O. coll.: 24.2 x 18
(.955 x .71). Extremes 21.6-26.9 by 17-18.8 (.85-1.06 by .67-.74).
General Range.—Chiefly resident in Lower Sonoran zone from the Colorado
Desert, southern Nevada and southwestern Utah, south through Arizona to south-
western Mexico. May wander a little farther south in winter.
Distribution in California.—Common resident in the valley of the Colorado
River, Imperial Valley, and the Colorado Desert west to Whitewater and Palm Springs.
Authorities.—Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 516 (Fort Yuma);
Cooper, Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 244 (Colorado Valley; habits, nests and eggs); Brewster,
Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, vol. vii., 1882, p. 198 (s. Ariz.; habits; desc. nests, eggs and
young); Gilman, Condor, vol. v., 1903, p. 12 (w. Colorado Desert; nests and eggs);
Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p. 177 (Colorado R.; habits, crit.).
ORNITHOLOGY, it cannot be too often repeated, is not an exact science. Tax-
onomy, the science of classification, aims at exactness, but its symbols are, after all, only
records of opinion. Bird names, however diligently Latinized, are only pegs driven at
irregular intervals along memory’s wall, pegs upon which we may conveniently hang
bundles of collective experience. These thought bundles, or observations, are called
facts, and they pertain to, or are derived from, individual birds having certain points
of resemblance, or certain characteristics in common. These rows of thought pegs are
called family, genus, species, and subspecies, solely according to the nature and degree
of resemblance between individuals which we choose to regard. And of all these
ranks, or orders, or rows of pegs, the most familiar, the most useful, the best under-
stood, and for that very reason the least accurate, is the species row. Beneath each
peg of this row we paste a label called a scientific name, which must be dutifully re-
peated every time an individual bird is mentioned, and upon the peg itself we hang
all the similarities which we may discover between two or more individuals not other-
wise defined (that is, whose origin, or distribution, or actual blood relationship, is
unknown to us).
I have said these name pegs are driven at irregular intervals. They should be if
they expressed the facts of nature as we find them. The distance between the pegs is
precisely the interesting point in any comparison of species. These distances vary
enormously, but our practical realization of this fact is always being hindered or frus-
trated by a practical, or rather an impertinent, consideration which pertains to the
mechanism of our science. The assignment of two or more names to two or more
pegs tends in itself to prescribe the distance between those pegs. That distance is the
space separating two names on the printed page. For economy’s sake, names are
printed in close succession, and for the sake of appearance they are separated by regular
intervals. We tend, thus, toa uniformity of peg-spacing upon memory’s wall, and so to
a sense of uniform value-distances separating the species themselves. Yet nothing
could be further from the facts. In truth, this artificial, constricted spacing of our
398
* The Abert Towhee
or trees. Eggs: 3 or 4; pale bluish green (much paler than pale niagara green),
marked sharply and sparingly, often curiously, and chiefly at the larger end, with black
er deep brownish black, rarely with subdued shell-markings of purplish gray. The
markings sometimes group into a wreath of interwoven hieroglyphics, and the eggs
are at such times, or indeed at ail times, roughly comparable to those of the Agelaius
Redwings. Av. of 80 southern Arizonian spectmens in the M. C. O. coll:: 24.2 x 18
(955 x 71). Extremes 21.6-26.9 by 17-48.8 (.85-1.06 by .67-.74).
General Range.-—Chiefly resident in Lower Sonoran zone from the Colorado
Desert, southern Nevada and southwestern Utah, south through Arizona to south-
western Mexico. May wander a little farther south in winter.
Distribution in Catifornia.--Comimon resident in the valley of the Colorado
River, Imperia! Valley, and the Colorado Desert west to Whitewater and Palm Springs.
Authorities.-—Baird, Rep, Pac. R. &. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 516 (Fort Yuma);
Cooper, Orn. Calif., 1870, p- 244 Colorado Valley: habits, nests and exes); Brewster,
Bull. Nutt. Orn, Chik. volo vit, 1882, p. 198 (s. Ariz.; habits; desc. nests, eggs and
vaung): Gilman, Condor, vol. v., 1903, p. 12 (w. Colorado Desert; nests and eggs);
Grinnell, Univ. Cai, Pub. Zool., vol. xii, 1914. p. 177 (Colorado R.; habits; crit.).
GRNITHOLOGY, it cannet he toc often repeated, is not an exact science. | Tax-"
oneny, the science of classification, aims at exactness, but ts symbols are, after all, only
records of opinion, Bird names, however diligently Latinized, are only pegs driven at
irregular intervals along memory’s wall, pegs wpon which we may conveniently hang
bundles of collective experience. These thought bundles, or observations, are called
facts, and they pertain to, or are derived from, individual birds having certain points
of resemblance, or certain characteristics in common. “These rows of thought pegs are
called family, genus, species, and aie oy eae Ae to the nature and degree
of resemblance between pat etch aye io Sine to regard. And of all these
ranks, or orders, or FOws 0 of pegs, ifie most, 2 He ajar fost, use) ul, the best under-
stood, and for that very Mo SOR ET ee wieaanng by More © Species fow. Beneath each
peg of this row we paste a label called a scientific name, which must be datifully re-
peated every time an individual bird is mentioned, and upon the peg itself we hang
all the similarities which we may discover between two or more individuals not other-
wise defined (that is, whose origin, or distribution, or actual blood relationship, is
unknown to us).
} have said these name pegs are driven at irregular intervals. They should be if
they expressed the facts of nature as we find them: The distance between the pegs is
precisely the intsresting point in any Sauna of species. These distances vary
enormously, but our practical realization of this fact is always being hindered or frus-
trated by a practical, or rather an impertinent, consideration which pertains to the
mechanism of our science. The assignment of two or more names to two or more
pegs tends in itself to prescribe the distance between these pegs. _ That distance is the
space separating two names on the printed page. For economy's sake, names are
printed in close succession, and for the sake of appearance they are separated by regular
infervals, We tend, thus, toa uniformity of peg-spacing upon memory’s wall, and so to-
a sense of uniform value-distances separating the species themselves. Yet nothing
could be further from the facts. In truth, this artificial, constricted spacing of our
398
ia ore
The Abert Towhee
species concepts is one of
the most pernicious influ-
ences in science. Wecan-
not avoid it altogether,
but we can face it out and
persistently discredit it.
Thus it is that the mere
assignment of names
breaks up and artificially
spaces out certain groups
of bird species whose differ-
ences, though constant,
are almost infinitesimal;
and it contracts and ren-
ders inoperative the value-
distances which separate
certain other species whose
names, if we were consist-
ent, could not be printed
on the same page, or even
in the same book.
As a practical illus-
tration of all this I would
cite the case of the genus
Pipilo. Regarding for
Photo by Donald R. Dickey the present only those rep-
SI SOS resentatives of the genus
which occur above the
Mexican border, and dropping for the moment sub-specific
terminations, we have five species to deal with: Pzpilo
maculatus, P. erythrophthalmus, P. fuscus, P. abertt, and
P. crissalis. The mere enumeration of these species names gives each one dignity and
value, a place among its fellows. Whatever the facts may be, naming terms coordi-
nates them. It gives them equal value to our human apprehension. And though
we spend the rest of our lifetime specializing on the genus Pipilo, we shall never be
able to shake off this initial presumption that Pipilo aberti is as distinct, as different,
as important, as P. maculatus. Yet if we regard evolutionary distance, or what I
have called value distance (for evolution proceeds in different stocks at very
different rates), we shall find the three members of the Pipilo fuscus-aberti-crissalis
group, the Brown Towhees, as close together as three contiguous Earths; while the
members of the Pipilo maculatus group would figure as a constellation of Neptunes. In
other words, a printed list of the names of members of the genus Pipilo is as inexpressive
of the value distances which actually separate them, as would be a printed catalog of
the names of the planets to one who had never heard of the solar system.
Taken in Riverside County
ID
The Abert Towhee
AS COMPARED with our more familiar Brown Towhee (P. crissalis),
Pipilo aberti is a somewhat smaller bird, paler above, more warmly, and
especially more diffusely “‘cinnamomeous’” below. The distinctions
apply, however, only to birds in the hand, for Pzpzlo aberti in the bush is
one of the shyest of our western birds. Whether it is because of the
comparative thinness of cover in his desert home, or whether it is because
of an especial toothsomeness which the owls and hawks have discovered
in aberti’s flesh, the bird will not reveal itself to any but the most casual
glance, even when its nest is threatened. Not even that mocking wood-
sprite, the Western Chat, knows how to be so evasive. Our knowledge of
Pipilo aberti, therefore, is chiefly confined to its notes and “‘song,”’ and to
its nests and eggs, endlessly encountered.
The creaking note of Abert’s Towhee is a good deal more of a feature
of the local desert chorus than is that of P. crissalis in its haunts. While
never varying in general character, it is susceptible of great modification
of duration and intensity. It serves every purpose, therefore, from the
mild overtures of amiable companionship to the fiercest challenge of
rivalry, rasped out with an intensity to compel attention at a hundred
yards. In any case, it seems more metallic and resonant than that of
P. crissalis. The “‘chip”’ note of protest is, likewise, crissalis-like, but it
is milder and more musical.
The only time an Abert Towhee would think of questioning your
presence is after the discovery of its nest, three or four feet high in a
bush of “all thorns,’ or else cunningly concealed in the thickened leaf-
age of a decapitated stump of mesquite. The female has slipped off
unseen; but if you linger for an unseemly time, the ‘“‘chips”’ increase in fre-
quency, and you become aware presently of an anxious pair of brown
ghosts who are circling round and round you in the shrubbery. An
occasional glimpse discovers the female in the lead, and the male following
her about like an importunate puppy.
Although they nest twice in each season, Abert Towhees are not very
prolific, both because of their many enemies, and of the fact that the
set rarely exceeds three, and not always two, in number. The eggs are
pale bluish green, ‘“‘bird-egg green,” one might say, as to ground, and the
sparse spotting of purplish black suggests Icterine or Agelaiine affinities.
Occasionally, the ground-color goes to pure white, and then the resem-
blance to a Scott Oriole’s egg is irresistible.
A typical nest of this Towhee is a bulky assemblage of weed-stems,
dead vines, bark-strips, green leaves; and, interiorly, coiled bark, dried
grasses, and horsehair. Bark is a favorite material, and I have seen
nests which contained nothing else. Occasionally, the taste inclines to
green grass, and the superstructure may be composed of green, or recently
400
The Brown Towhees
dried, grass or leaves of a single sort. A nest which I hold in my hand is
based on abundant leafage of a very prickly plant, and the lining is of
macerated weed-bark. Indeed, the unfailing variety of material used by
these birds gives zest to continued inspections, burglarious or otherwise,
conducted in the equally unfailing absence of the owners. By their works
ye shall know them.
No. 69
Brown Towhee
No. 69 California Brown Towhee.
A. O. U. No. 591.1. Pipilo crissalis crissalis (Vigors).
Synonyms.—Brown-BIRD. DRAB. BUSH-BIRD. BACKYARD-BIRD.
Description.—Adult (sexes alike): Above olive-brown, shading through drab
on sides and flanks and across chest; ruddier on head and neck all around, darkest
(bister) on crown; throat roughly bounded by a series of dusky spots, sayal brown
to ochraceous tawny, or else spotted throughout with dusky; breast paling centrally
to buffy; sides and flanks increasingly tawny-tinged; crissum and lower tail-coverts
abruptly pure tawny or amber-brown. Bill browner above, lighter below; tarsi light
brown; feet darker. Young birds resemble parents, but show less contrast and are
finely streaked with dusky on throat, breast, and sides. Length 228.6-254 (9.00-
10.00); wing 99 (3.90); tail 110 (4.33); bill 15.8 (.62); tarsus 27.7 (1.09). Female a
little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size; drab coloration; throat and crissum red-
dish brown. The only bird with which it could be confused even by the novice is the
California Thrasher, which is larger, longer, and has a long, curved bill.
Nesting.— Nest: A bulky but well-made cup of weed-stems, grasses, and dried
vegetable miscellany; carefully lined with fine grasses or horsehair; placed at moderate
heights in bushes or trees. Diameter inside 76.2-88.9 (3.00-3.50); depth 38-50.8
(1.50-2.00).. Eggs: 3 or 4; much as in preceding species and not distinguishable
from them, although perhaps with a stronger tendency toward subdued shell-markings,
and the release of the concealed red of the ‘‘black’’ pigment. Av. of 10 eggs from
Boonville (Mendocino County): 24 x 18.3 (.95 x .72).. Av. of 17 eggs from Santa Bar-
bara: 24.9 x 18(.98x.71). Extremes: 22-26.7 by 16.8-19 (.87-1.05 by .66-.75). Season:
April-July; two broods.
Range of Pipilo crissalis——Pacific Coast district from southern Oregon to
northern Lower California.
Range of P. c. crissalis (Wholly within California) Resident in the humid
coast strip, narrowly defined, from Humboldt County to northern San Luis Obispo
County (Paso Robles).
gor
The Brown Towhees
ANTHONY BROWN TOWHEE
The Brown Towhees
Authorities.—Vigors (Fringilla crissalis), Zool. Voy. ‘‘Blossom,”’ 1839, p. 19
(Monterey; orig. desc.); Brewster, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, vol. iv., 1879, p. 41 (desc.
young); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, p. 89, part (food);
Swarth, Condor, vol. xx., 1918, p. 117, fig., map (distr., desc., crit.) ; Oberholser, Condor,
vol. xxi., 1919, p. 210 (crit.); Hunt, Condor, vol. xxiv., 1922, p. 193 (song).
No. 692 Northern Brown Towhee
A. O. U. No. 591.1, part. Pipilo crissalis carole McGregor.
Description.—‘‘Closely related to P. f. crissalis, but distinguished by grayer
and more uniform color of upper parts, much paler throat patch and slightly longer
tail’’ (orig. desc.). Very dubious.
Range of P. c. carole —Resident in Upper Sonoran zone interiorly in northern
California and southwestern Oregon.
Distribution in California.—Common resident locally in Upper and Lower
Sonoran zones west of the Sierras, from the Tehachipe divide north to the northern
boundary. The subspecies thus occupies the western slopes of the Sierras, the great
interior valley and the eastern slopes and semi-arid areas of the coast ranges, from the
latitude of Tulare Lake north.
Authorities.—Heermann (Pipilo fuscus), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser.
2, li., 1852, 267; McGregor, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 11 (Battle Creek,
n. Calif.; orig. desc.); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, p. 86 (Fresno; habits,
nests and eggs); Swarth, Condor, vol. xx., 1918, p. 117, fig., map (distr. in Calif., desc.,
crit.).
No. 69 Anthony’s Brown Towhee
A. O. U. No. 591.1a. Pipilo crissalis senicula Anthony.
Description.—“‘Differing from crissalis in smaller size, much less rusty on
lower parts, upper parts darker and lower more grayish’ (orig. desc.). A very
“light” form.
Range of P. c. senicula#—Resident in the southern Pacific Coast districts,
broadly, from San Luis Obispo County, California, south to (at least) Latitude 29,
Lower California. Casual east of the desert divides: Palm Springs (Gilman), Mo-
rongo Pass (Stephens). This form intergrades with crissalis on the north, but is
probably distinct from carole, from which it may prove to be separated by the southern
end of the Tulare basin.
Authorities.—Cooper (Pipilo fuscus), Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 245, part; Anthony,
Auk, vol. xii., 1895, pp. 111, 141 (San Fernando, Lower Calif.; orig. desc.) ; Grinnell,
Pasadena Acad. Sci. Pub., no. 2, 1898, p. 40 (s. Calif.; occurrence, nesting dates, etc.) ;
Dickey, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 93, figs. (habits; photos of birds, nests and eggs);
Swarth, Condor, vol. xx., 1918, p. 120, figs., map (distr., desc., crit.).
FAMILIAR objects, whatever their worth, come to be dear to us
through association. There is, honestly, no particular reason why we
should be fond of this prosy creature, save that he is always around. In
appearance, the bird is a bit awkward, slovenly, and uncouth; or at least,
we are obliged to see him oftenest in every-day duds, and he seems to
403
The Brown Towhees
have no company manners. And for color—never was a more hopeless
drab. But surely the bird must have some redeeming qualities. He
sings, perhaps? Not at all; his efforts at song are a farce, a standing joke
—though he is himself entirely devoid of humor. He is, to be sure, a
gleaner of crumbs and odds and ends, but so are the ants; and the bird’s
presence in a garden is far from being an unmixed blessing. Really, there
is no reason why one should espouse the cause of this local ash-man. Yet
I suppose there are few Californians who would willingly spare the homely,
matter-of-fact presence of this bird under foot. Brown Towhees are just
birds—the same way most of us are just folks.
Truth to tell, the sober color of our hero does match very well the
universal dryness of the under scrub, during the long rest period which
Californian vegetation indulges (and which dutiful Californians pretend
to like). When other birds, therefore, have forsaken the mesa and have
gone to higher, greener levels, the Towhee feels no need of change. He
has come into his own. ‘Trusting to his brown coat, he moves about fear-
lessly in the open, and is much more active than Thrasher or Wren-Tit
dares to be, away from cover. Wren-Tit is, doubtless, the first bird to
respond to the screeping call of the birdman, but if the Wren-Tit is not on
hand, the Brown Towhee is sure to be. His name is legion, and some one
of him marks the downsitting and the uprising of every human in western
or southern
California.
dpesheve
Brown Tow-
hee is the typi-
cal Hans when
he gets with
other birds.
When he is
consorting
Wet lie In ©
Crown Spar-
rows, as he
often does, or
tries to, he
apes all their
motions of
Woe Me Io IE ©) i
flight, but he
does it so awk-
Taken at Los Colibris Photo by the Author
FAITHFUL GRETCHEN wardly and ex-
404
The Brown Towhees
poses himself in such yokel fashion, according to their
standards, that the crowd is jeering at him before he has
re-joined it in the shelter of the bush. Save for the afflic-
tions of the noble passion, the Towhees get along well
enough with their own kind. There is likely to be
amiable twittering—good-natured banter, it would seem
—whenever they meet; and nothing could be more sug-
gestive of homely joys than the sight of a wedded pair
taking “‘the kids” out for an airing of a Sunday after-
noon. The excursion, perhaps, is conducted through the
garden. Bugs and worms are not overlooked. Fallen
seeds are seized and bolted outright, or else shelled
deftly with that curious nibbling motion which always
looks babyish or affected in these large-beaked
birds. Fresh herbage is sampled freely, too freely,
perhaps, as we shall learn presently. Whatever the
parents do the children imitate in grateful obedience;
but there are baby hours whiled in the leafy shade,
when they are more prone to snatch up what father
or mother has uncovered by energetic backward
kicks, than to rustle (quite literally) for themselves.
The predilection of these birds for young plant growth
is very marked; and there is no gainsaying the mischief they
do in early spring to tender peas and lettuce. Mr. Tyler has
remarked,! ‘“‘The Towhees are big good-natured fellows, in no
way injurious to man’s interests.’’ I should like to see him
argue this point (without weapons, of course) with a certain
good neighbor of mine who raises ‘“‘garden sass’’ for the mar-
ket. Having had occasion to replant early peas myself, I have
learned to cover the tender shoots with brush or mosquito
netting for the first two weeks of their growth. The Towhee — popen a1 Los Colibris
also comes in strong on the fruit harvest. Plums, apricots, Pe & ‘te Auhor
early peaches, and grapes—these he will munch as innocently — 4ONPST HANS
as an urchin. And why not? He was here first; and if you insist upon
using his ground for growing fruit instead of bugs and weed-seed, you
must expect to pay ground rent. Cheer up!
The presence and movements of the Brown Towhee are published
from time to time by a metallic chip, which is quite the most familiar of —
vocal sounds. This chip is the ordinary keep-in-touch note, and it must
also do duty for warning, for challenge, for exhortation, and other pur-
poses which, in a sphere of action somewhat removed, necessitates the use
1Pacific Coast Avifauna, No. 9, p. 86.
405
The Brown Towhees
of 450,000 vocabulary en-
tries. Saddest of all, this
overworked note must do
duty for song. For this pur-
pose it is furbished up a bit,
brightened, intensified, and
aspirated, till it sounds like a
sibilant squeak. The singer
mounts a bush or tree-top, or
the comb of a roof, and with
uttermost ardor delivers him-
self of such sentiments as
these, tsack tsick tsick
tsick tstck. Listen! O ye
Muses, and pause, Satyrs, in
your mad gambols. Orpheus
will smite the lyre again:
T sick tsick tsick tsick
tsick. He is dead in earnest,
too, this country Jake turned
minstrel. As he concludes,
his body quivers and his tail
beats flail-like with his un-
wonted exertion. And one
good lady (she of the endless
regurgitations) likens this
song to “‘the tinkle of a
silver bell’’!
The male bird is a mas-
terful lover, and he will vin-
dicate his claims against all comers. Great fights ensue, and not a
few in which bodily injury is done. These encounters characterize
early springtime, but there seems to be a recrudescence of hostile
activities in late summer as well. Perhaps the young blades are asserting
themselves. Such a fight occurred in our yard in the early morning of
August 28th (1911). Whether it was a contest between old males, or
merely young fellows trying out their strength, I could not determine.
At any rate, there was intermittent onset of long duration, and as often
as the duellists set to, they were accompanied, or mobbed, by four others,
all squeaking at once at the top of their voices. The squeaks in this case
were something dynamic. They were shrieking squeaks; and six birds
squeaking in concert made a fine hubbub—quite too much for that last
400
Taken in Pasadena Photo by Donald R. Dickey
EXAMINING THE BAIT
The Brown Towhees
coveted hour of slumber. The feud seemed implacable; and I witnessed
an attack an hour later, all to the accompaniment of admiring, or pro-
testing, squeaks.
This pugnacity of the Brown Towhee has led to one strange length.
Other birds there are who will fight their shadows in the window panes—
Goldfinches, Linnets and Mockingbirds; but their passion is short-lived.
The Towhee adopts ‘“‘shadow boxing’’ as a profession. It becomes a
religion, a something dearer-than-meat-and-drink, an obsession. The
occurrence is common enough, but the best report of it is, perhaps, that
given by Mr. Donald R. Dickey,! whose friend, General Penney, of
Nordhoff, was besieged by one of these Puglisi visitors. The trouble
in this instance began in the
late winter (of 1913-14) when
the mating season had scarce-
ly begun. “Perched on the
sill, the bird would eye his re-
flection, and then set sys-
tematically to work to kill
that supposed rival, with all
the ire and intolerance of a
rutting mouse. The tactics
varied somewhat, but on the
whole the bird firmly be-
lieved that victory lay in the
frequency of his attacks,
rather than in their violence,
so that the blows of his beak
rained on the pane with all
the persistence of water drip-
ping on a tin porch roof after
an Eastern thaw. Each blow
was, of course, met squarely
by the shadowed beak of his
Opponent; each retreat was
mimicked by the shadow;
each unusually furious on-
slaught was countered in
equal force. Sometimes they
rested as though by mutual
consent—the bird and _ his
sparring partner—but pres-
ently some turn of the bird’s Taken in San Diego Photo by Donald R. Dickey
“SOME OF THEIR NESTS—ARE MODELS OF BEAUTY”
1“ The Shadow Boxing of Pipilo,’”” The Condor, Vol. XVIII., 1916, p. 95. 4O7
The Brown Towhees
head would find an answering challenge in the glass, and he would fly
at it again. Hour after hour this continued, until the bird was com-
pletely exhausted, or until the light changed and the reflection vanished.
“This continued day after day and week after week with scarcely an
interruption, and became a positive nuisance. As time went on and his
attacks netted him nothing, Pipilo worked himself into greater and greater
frenzy until blood specks from his beak often covered the lower part of the
pane. The small head feathers, loosened in the fracas, would stick to
these blood spots and necessitate frequent window washing, in addition to
the ‘damnable iteration’ of his tap, tap, tapping at the pane. Nothing
was done about it, however, and it continued as an almost daily perform-
ance until early summer. Then, with the close of the breeding season,
the bird stopped of his own accord.”’
Nests of Pzpilo crissalis are usually placed at moderate heights in
shrubbery or trees. The birds often exhibit considerable skill in construc-
tion, and some of their nests, especially of those whose builders do not
have access to the miscellaneous waste of civilization, are models of
beauty. The eggs, usually three in number in the southern portion of the
bird’s range, four or even five northerly, are pale blue (really, pale niagara
green), handsomely though sparingly marked and short-scrawled with
purplish black. They resemble, thus, to a striking degree, the eggs of
certain blackbirds (A gelatine). The female, elsewhere so confiding, is
singularly shy in and about the nest, and does not pose well for the pho-
tographer. The bird figured here had built in a lantana bush hard against
a window. By dint, therefore, of darkening the room, her confidence was
sufficiently won to permit of portraiture at long range. Nesting is the
main business of life, and the Towhees take theirs quite seriously. At
least two broods are raised each season, and five or six months of each
year are given over to the activities attendant upon or anticipatory of
chick-raising. For all this, the birds fall easy prey to prowlers, and the
ranks of the species never seem to be unduly swelled, as is often the case,
for example, with the Linnet (Carpodacus mexicanus frontalis).
The Lazuli Bunting
No. 70
Lazuli Bunting
A. O. U. No. 599. Passerina amoena (Say).
Synonym.—Lazutti FINCH.
Description.—Adult male: Head and neck all around light blue (cendre blue
or light cerulean blue to cerulean blue); this color carried over upperparts, but pure
only on rump, elsewhere appearing as sub-skirting of feathers; middle coverts broadly
and greater coverts narrowly tipped with white; wings and tail otherwise black; some
skirting of ochraceous on back, scapulars, and tertials; lores black; chest ochraceous
tawny, sharply defined from blue above, but shading gradually into white of remaining
underparts; sides and flanks with outcropping bluish dusky. Bill black above, pale
bluish below; feet brownish dusky; iris brown. Adult female: Above grayish brown
or brownish buffy, the color of male recalled by dull greenish blue of crown, rump,
and upper tail-coverts, and by skirtings of wing- and tail-feathers; middle and greater
coverts tipped with light buffy; underparts washed with ochraceous buffy, most strongly
on chest and sides, fading to whitish on belly and under tail-coverts. Young birds
resemble the female but lack the greenish blue tinge, and are usually more or less
streaked below on chest and sides. Length of adult male: 133.3-139.7 (5.25-5.50);
wing 73 (2.87); tail 55 (2.17); bill 10 (.40); tarsus 17 (.67). Female smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; color pattern of male distinctive; female
not so easy—in general, distinguishable by a softness and uniformity of the grayish
browns, by the ochraceous of chest, and by at least some hint of greenish blue above.
Nesting.— Nest: A rather coarsely woven basket of dried grasses, especially
their leafy portions; lined with finer grasses or horsehair; and lashed firmly to sup-
porting stalks of weeds, or settled in forks of bushes, in thickets or tangles; rarely
low in trees (live oaks). Eggs: 3 or 4; rounded ovate to elongate ovate; very pale
bluish green, immaculate or, very rarely, speckled with blackish. Av. of 16 eggs in
M. C. O., 18.3 x 13.5 (.72 x -53). Season: May-July; one or two broods.
General Range.—Breeds in Transition and Upper Sonoran zones throughout
the western states and in the southern portion of the western provinces of Canada,
east to North Dakota and Texas; winters in Lower California and in Mexico, south
to the valley of Mexico.
Distribution in California.—Of general occurrence as a breeder in the Upper
Sonoran and Transition zones throughout the State; apparently indifferent to mois-
ture, but keeps to brushy margins of springs and streams in semi-arid Sonoran terri-
tory, Occurs more widely during migrations at lower levels. No winter records.
Authorities.—Heermann (Spiza amaena), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2,
ii., 1853, p. 266; Barlow, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 174 (Fyffe; nest and eggs); Carpenter,
Condor, vol. ix., 1907, p. 199 (nest and abnormal eggs); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna,
no. 9, 1913, p. 89 (Fresno; habits, nesting, etc.); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12,
1917, p. 87 (Santa Barbara Ids.).
ONE can scarcely believe his eyes as this jewel flashes from a thicket,
crosses a space of common air, and disappears again all ina trice. Either
there has been some optical illusion, or Nature has grown unco careless to
409
The Lazuli Bunting
fling her turquoises about in such fashion. We must investigate. Upon
arrival, in late April or early May, and before the return of his dun-colored
mate, the male Lazuli is quite conscious of his prominence in the land-
scape. He avoids notice and goes bounding away if closely pressed; but
love soon makes him bold, and he will pursue the object of his affections
into the very thicket where you stand. Then, while the female lurks
timidly within, he mounts a spray and yields an outburst of music, pierc-
ing and earnest, if not too sweet. We see that his blue is deep azure, or
turquoise, rather than that of the /apzs lazuli from which he is named.
The red of his breast is nearly that of the Robin’s, while the pure white of
the remaining underparts completes a patriotic study in red, white and
blue. The female shows something of the color pattern of her mate, with
the important exception that dull brown supplants the royal blue of head
and back. After all, then, they are fitted for separate spheres: she to
skulk and hide and escape the hostile eye in the discharge of her maternal
duties; he to lose himself against the blue of heaven, as he sings reassur-
ingly from a tree-top, or sends down notes of warning upon the approach
of danger.
The song of the Lazuli Bunting is a rambling warble, not unlike that
of the Indigo Bunting (P. cyanea), but somewhat less energetic. Its brief
course rises and falls in short cadences and ends with a hasty jumble of
unfinished notes, as though the singer were out of breath. Moreover, the
bird does not take his task very seriously, and he does not burden the mid-
day air with incessant song, as does his tireless cousin.
While in camp on the southern shore of Clear Lake, in June, 1916
(the year of the big freeze in that section), my attention was intrigued
by an early morning singer who lisped out only a monotonous string of
squeaky notes. The quality and cadence were warbler-like, but there
was no such warbler called for by the books. So I followed the elusive
thing through the mazes of the frost-bitten oaks for halfan hour. Tsweek
tsweek tsweek tsweek tsweek tsweek, was all he said, although with some
variation of inflection or emphasis. When at last I had the little rascal
pinned against the sky, down sun, I found not a recreant Geothlypis,
but a Lazuli Bunting, a male in very low plumage, and so, presumably,
a yearling.
During the year of 1912, the year of the great warbler wave, we had
Lazuli Buntings in great numbers. In the course of a fifty mile drive
along the Santa Barbara coast we saw hundreds, or thousands, of them.
It was not a matter of scattering individuals, either, for they appeared
in squads and platoons wherever the wayside weeds gave shelter. Arrived
at our own demesne, it was again Lazuli Buntings. The tall grass of a
neighbor’s yard seemed especially attractive to them; and once when a
4IO
iL O\T
9siz 9
The ‘Lazuli Bunting
fling her turquoises about in such fashion. We must investigate. Upon —
arrival, in late April or early May, and before the return of his dun-colored
mate, the male Lazuli is quite conscious of his prominence in the land-
scape. He avgicds notice and goes bounding away if closely pressed; but
lave soon makes him bold, and he will pursue the object of his affections
into the very thicket where you stand. Then, while the female lurks’
timidly within, he mounts a spray and yields an outburst of music, pierc-
ing and earnest, if not too sweet. We see that his blue is deep azure, or
turquoise, rather than that of the jafis Jaguli from which he is named.
The red of his breast is nearly that of the Rebin’s, while the pure white of
the remaining underparte completes a patriotic study in red, white and
bhee, The fernate shows scathing of the color pattern of her mate, with
the important exception that dull brown supplants the royal blue of head
and Mack. After ail, ines, they are fitted for separate spheres: she to
skuth and Bide sivi ceca:w the Hostile eye in the discharge of her maternal
@uites: he io toee hinged! against the bluc of heaven, as he sings reassur-
= sovg of the Lagu funting is a rambling warble, not unlike that
uf the dadigo Henting (. cverea), but somewhat less energetic. ‘Its brief
course rises and falls in shorthaguli:Buntingds with a hasty jumble of.
unfinished motes, as UhouMale andstamale, aboue 79 tied dyecath. Moreover, the
birG dioes not take his task very seriously, and he does not burden the mid-
day air with incessant song, as does his tireless cousin.
While in camp on the southern shore of Clear Lake, in June, 1916
(the year of the big freeze in that section), my attention was intrigued
by an early morning singer who lisped out only a monotonous string of
saucaky notes. The quality and cadence were warbler-like, but there
was no such warbler called for by the books. So I followed the elusive —
thing through the mazes of the frost-bitten oaks for halfan hour. Tsweek
isweek isweek isweek isweek tsweek, was all he said, although with some
variatien of inflection or emphasis. When at last I had the little rascal
winned against the sky, down sun, | found not a recreant Geothlypis,
eit a Lezuli Hunting, a male in very low plumage, and so, presumably,
& voarling. aos
“sing the year of 1912, the year of the great warbler wave, we had
Legal ites in gveai aumbers. In the course of a fifty mile drive
tliste 26s Santa Garhara coast we saw hundreds, or thousands, of them:
it Wis feet & semifer ef scattering individuals, either, for they appeared
i styuarls bad plddvme acherever the wayside weeds gave shelter. Arrived =
St tat Gee deteweee, MP wax again Lazuli Buntings... The tall grass of a
Helbhhat's var) ace +
wes
The Lazuli Bunting
struggling auto made explosive comment upon our hill, a perfect cascade
of brightly plumaged birds, all males, boiled up from the ground.
The secret of Lazuli Bunting’s nesting—at least in southern Cali-
fornia—may be told all in a breath—Artemisia heterophylla! There you
have it! Search the clumps of this broad-leafed sage, or ‘‘mugwort,”’
as it grows to a height of three or four feet along the banks of streams,
or upon half-shaded hillsides, and you will be astonished at the harvest
of ‘‘Lazzes’”’ it will yield. In a sea-
son’s desultory nesting, that of 1920,
at Santa Barbara, I found nineteen
occupied nests of the Lazuli Bunt-
ing. Of these, fourteen were in pure
stands of A. heterophylla; two in
mixed stands; two in poison oak;
and one in a blackberry tangle. The
nest, a rather bulky but often tidy
affair, of bark-strips, hemp, and
dried grasses, lined with fine grass or
horsehair, is lashed to the upright
clustering stems of the mugwort; or,
more rarely, and in mixed cover, is
supported from below by transverse
stalks and vines. The female slips
off quietly, often unnoticed, and the
passerby would not suspect the pres-
ence of a nest; but a loitering odlo-
gist soon elicits an anxious (wisp, or
twissup from the skulking bird. If
he does not heed that warning, the
female will presently summon her
mate, and both birds will berate him
soundly. Ameena means pleasant,
but you could hardly expect an anx-
ious mother to practice the amenities
while a brute of a man is fingering
Taken in Santa Barbara Photo by the Author
A FURTIVE INSPECTION—BY A FEMALE LAZULI
BUNTING
her babies-to-be and speculating upon their possible degree of freshness.
The male, on the other hand, soon tires of saying unpleasant things, and
will try your heart with a bit of a song instead.
Gil
The Beautiful Bunting
No. 71
Beautiful Bunting
A. O. U. No. 600c. Passerina versicolor pulchra Ridgway.
Synonyms.—VaArIED BUNTING. WESTERN VARIED BUNTING.
Description (of versicolor, after Ridgway).—Adult male in summer: Lores and
frontlet black; chin blackish; forehead, forecrown, supra-auriculars, lower hind-neck,
rump, and upper tail-coverts light purplish blue (mauve to campanula blue or flax
flower blue); the malar and auricular regions and lesser wing-coverts similar but
darker; hind-crown, occiput, and cervix, with a touch on either eyelid, vermilion red;
back dusky purplish red, the scapulars more bluish or purplish; throat and chest
maroon purplish, clearing, redder, on throat; remaining underparts dusky purple,
becoming grayer on flanks; wings dusky with grayish blue and purplish edgings; tail
blackish edged with dull blue. Bill black above, lighter, horn-color, below; feet and
tarsi brownish black. Adult male in winter: Bright colors more or less obscured by
grayish brown tips of feathers. Adult female in summer: ‘‘Above grayish brown
(hair-brown), more or less strongly tinged with olive (occasionally tinged with dull
light grayish blue), passing into light glaucous or bluish gray on rump and upper tail-
coverts; tail bluish dusky, the rectrices edged with glaucous-bluish; middle and greater
wing-coverts indistinctly tipped with paler grayish brown, and primaries and ad-
joining secondaries edged with pale glaucous gray or bluish; underparts dull whitish
on throat, abdomen, and tips of under tail-coverts; elsewhere pale grayish brown,
deepest on chest.’’ Length (skins of adult male): 127 (5.00); wing 67 (2.64); tail
53-3 (2.10); bill 10.2 (.40); tarsus 17.8 (.70). Females slightly smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; variegated plumage with contrasting blues
and red distinctive for male; female much more difficult,—a grayish brown and bluish
gray bird.
Remarks.—Ridgway, in his Birds of N. and M. America, Part I, 1901, p. 592,
abandons the claim of a western subspecies, pulchra, which he had advanced in 1887
(Manual of N. A. Birds, p. 448), after commenting on the minor differences shown by
specimens from Lower California, and the intermediate character of specimens from
western Mexico. We shall either have to follow him or else define the intermediate
form, which is evidently that of Arizona also.
Nesting.—Not known to breed in California. Nest and eggs much as in pre-
ceding species.
Range of Passerina versicolor.—Southern border of the United States and Mexico.
Range of P. v. pulchra.—The alleged western form found in ‘‘southern Arizona’”’,
northwestern Mexico, and discontinuously (?) in southern Lower California.
Occurrence in California.—One occurrence, as below, at Blythe, February,
1914.
Authorities.—Daggett, Condor, vol. xvi., 1914, p. 260 (Blythe, on the Colorado
R.); Grayson, Mem. Boston Soc. Nat. Hist., vol. ii., 1874, p. 276 (habits, song, etc.).
THE BEAUTIFUL Bunting is a Mexican species which upon two
occasions has been caught trespassing in the States. On July 14, 1884,
Mr. Frank Stephens took a specimen, an adult female, at Crittenden, near
412
The Blue Grosbeaks
the Santa Rita Mountains, in Arizona. And on February 8th or 9th,
1914, Dr. J. A. Hornung, of Los Angeles, took specimens at Blyth, River-
side County, California. During the course of several days Dr. Hornung
saw as many as fifteen or twenty of these birds feeding on roadside weeds
bordering a cotton field. These two appearances are manifestly an
insufficient basis for any hypothesis, and we can only agree with Grinnell
in calling the Beautiful Bunting a casual visitant.
Mexico having been a terra horrenda for many years past, we needs
must wait till the mask of the bandit is laid aside, and scientific explorers
are no longer scalped or held for ransom. Would you, then, know more
of the Beautiful Bunting? Then take your place among the Watchful
Waiters.
No. 72
Blue Grosbeak
No. 72a Arizona Blue Grosbeak
A. O. U. No. 597a, part. Guiraca cerulea lazula (Lesson).
Synonym.—WESTERN BLUE GROSBEAK.
Description.—Adult male in breeding plumage: In general, violet-blue (dark,
soft blue-violet), blackening around base of bill (broadly on lores) and on back, with
irruptions of black on breast, lightening (soft blue-violet) on crown and rump (where
“light soft blue-violet’’); the feathers of underparts and back (even in highest plumage,
but in lessening degree with advance of season) irregularly tipped with cinnamon-
rufous on back and major edging of wing, and on chest, broadly; with white or, casually,
with rufous on remaining underparts, especially abdomen and crissum. Median.
wing-coverts entirely russet; rectrices and remiges black, narrowly edged with blue,
the four outermost rectrices narrowly white-tipped. Bill dark bluish, black above,
lightening below; feet and tarsi brownish black. Adult female: Very different;
chiefly brownish gray (tawny olive to buffy brown) above, paler (cinnamon-buff to
pinkish buff) below; blue of male irregularly irruptive, in flecks and patches on breast
and flanks, and on head, especially the cheeks; rump tinged with bluish; median and
greater wing-coverts bordered with dull rufous (pinkish cinnamon), forming two in-
conspicuous bars; the breast and sides also sometimes faintly streaked with dusky.
Young birds resemble the adult female, with increase of the ochraceous element.
Length of adult male (skins): 165 (6.50); wing 86 (3.386); tail 66 (2.60); bill 16 (.63);
tarsus 20.6 (.81). Females are a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; violet-blue of male distinctive. Female
and young dull brownish with only faint outcroppings of blue,—best known by size
and tumid beak.
Nesting of Guiraca cerulea.— Nest: Placed in briar tangles, weed-clumps,
thickets, or low in trees; a rather loose basket of coarse grass-blades, leaves, and vege-
table trash, lined coarsely or finely with grasses and rootlets or horsehair. Eggs:
413
The Blue Grosbeaks
3 or 4; pale bluish green, unmarked. Av. of 15 eggs from Arizona and California:
21.8 x 16.5 (.86x .65). Season: May-—July; one or two broods.
Range of Guiraca cerulea—United States from Maryland, southern Illinois,
northeastern Nebraska, central Colorado, and northern California south to Chiapas,
Mexico, and in winter to Costa Rica.
Range of G. c. Jazula.—Breeds in the western states from Nebraska and western
Texas west (southerly) to the valley of the Colorado, south to Oaxaca, Mexico; winters
from southern Sonora to Costa Rica.
Occurrence in California.—‘‘Common summer visitant in the valley of the
lower Colorado River, from the Mexican line, north at least to Fort Mohave, above
Needles’? (Grinnell).
Authorities ——Morcom (Guiraca c@rulea), Bull. Ridgway Orn. Club, no. 2,
1887, p. 50 (Colorado R.); Grinnell, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xxiv., 1911, p. 163
(crit.); zbid., Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p. 180 (Colorado R.; occurrence,
crit.).
No. 72b California Blue Grosbeak
A. O. U. No. 597a, part. Guiraca czerulea salicarius Grinnell.
Description.—‘‘Similar to G. c. lazula of Arizona and Mexico in coloration
and general size but bill much smaller and proportionately less tumid, that is, outlines
straighter’’ (Grinnell, orig. desc.).
Range of G. c. salicarius California, except the Colorado River valley; winter
range not yet distinguished.
Distribution in California.—Common, sometimes abundant in migrations
in southern half of State. Breeds chiefly in Lower Sonoran zone, locally in the San
Diegan district, and generally in the great interior valley north to Butte (Belding)
and Tehama (Red Bluff, July 22, 1916) counties; also in Owens Valley (George Creek,
May 19, 1919). Not found in winter.
Authorities —Heermann (Coccoborus coeruleus), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
ser. 2, il., 1853, p. 267; J. Mailliard, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 44 (Santa
Cruz Id.); Ray, Auk, vol. xxiii., 1906, p. 404 (desc. nest); McAtee, U. S. Dept. Agric.,
Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 32, 1908, p. 78, col. pl., part (food); Grinnell, Proc. Biol. Soc.
Wash., vol. xxiv., I9II, p. 163 (Colton; orig. desc.).
ONE of the major fascinations of advanced bird study is the con-
firmation or readjustment of relationships. It is not enough to be told
by the taxonomist that a bird’s relationships are such and such, because
of peculiarities of structure, similarities of wing formule, etc. The state-
ment may be true, but we take it under advisement as a hypothesis,
and seek other evidences—evidences of song, behavior, association, and
nesting habits—in confirmation or in modification of the anatomist’s con-
clusions. While structural evidence is of the highest authority, it requires
constant interpretation. Whereas the degree of change in the skeletal
structure, for example, may be determined by calipers, the vate of change
can never be known from physical appraisement. A knob on a bone,
44
This Blue Grosbeaks
3 or 4; pale bluish green, unmarked. Av. of 15 eggs from Arizona and California:
21.8x 16,5 (.86x .65). Season; May-July; one or two broods.
Range of Guiraca cerulea—United States from Maryland, southern Illinois,
northeastern Nebraska, central Colorado, and northern California south to Chiapas,
Mexico, and in winter to Costa Rica.
Range of G. c. lasula.—Preeds in the western states from Nebraska and western
Texas west (southerly) to the valley of the Colorado, et to Oaxaca, Mexico; winters
from southern Sonora to Costa Rica.
Occurrence in California.—‘Common summer visitant in the valley of the
Jower Colorado River, from the Mexican line, north at least to Fort Mohave, above
es Needles’’ (Grinnell),
Authorities.—Mercom (Giiraca cerulea), Bull. Ridgway Orn. Club, no. 2,
1887, p. 50 (Colorado R.): Grinnell, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xxiv., 1911, p. 163
(erit.); abed., Univ. Calif, Pub. Zool., val. xii., 1914, p. 180 (Colorado. R.+ occurrence, ni
crit.).
i No. 725 California Blue Grosbeak a,
AG. U. Ne. $074, part. Guiraca cw#rulea salicarius Grinnell.
Deseription.—"'Similar to G, ¢. lazuia ot Arizona and Mexico in coloration '
and general size but bill much smaller and proportionately less tumid, that is; outlines’
straighter’ (Grinnell, orig. desc.).
Range of G. c. salicarzus.—California, except-the Colorado River wallow: winter
range not yet distinguished
Distribution in Cal reste rn Blue, Grosbeak S abundant in migrations oe
in southern half of State. Maleaad Hfeesa}ejsabbuavaio Sifacian zone, locally in the San
Diegan district, and generally in the great interior valley north to Butte (Belding)
and Tehama (Red Bluff, July 22, 1916) counties; also in Owens Valley (George Creek,
May 19, 1919). Not found in winter.
Authorities—Heermann (Coccoborus coeruleus), Jour. Acad. Nat Sei. Phila., at
Ser. 2, il., 1853, p. 267; J. Maillierd, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 44 (Santa _ ee
Cruz Id.); Ray, Auk, vol. xxiii., 1906, p. 404 (desc. nest); McAtee,-U. S. Dept. Agric.,
Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 32, 1908, p. 78, col. pl., part (food); Grimnell, Proc. Biol. Soc.
Wash., vol. xxiv., 1911, p. 163 (Colton; orig. desc.).
ONE of the major fascinations of advanced bird study is the con- GG ts
“firmation or readjustment of relationships: It is not enough to be told ~~
by the taxonomist that a bird’s relationships are such and such, because
at peculiarities of structure, similarities of wing formule, etc. The state-
ment may be true, but we take it under advisement as a hypothesis,
and seek other evidences—evidences of song, behavior, association, and
nesting habits—in confirmation or in modification of the anatomist’s.con- —_
: elusions. While structural evidence is of the highest authority, it requires
constant interpretation. Whereas the degree of change in the skeletal.
structure. for example, may be determined by calipers, the rate of change
can never be known from physical appraisement. A knob on a bone,
ald
r
=
faicea
Lklaa
The Blue Grosbeaks
a ‘‘process,’’ may have evolved in a century, or its development may have
required a hundred thousand years. If we wish to appraise the actual or
significant degree of difference between one species and another, we must
weigh a multitude of outside, or non-somatic, factors. Very little may
happen to a bone or an artery or a muscle in a millenium, but a great deal
may happen to a species in that length of time. For this reason, there-
fore, the pronouncements of anatomists, however rigid and authoritative
within their realm, are never complete. They are true, but they are only
part of the truth.
Take, for example, the case of the Blue Grosbeak (Guiraca cerulea).
Its beak is “‘gross’’ enough. Its anatomical characters, so far as they
have been determined, may ally it closely with the genus Hedymeles. |
do not know. But in its associational habits, in its behavior, in its song,
and, above all, in its nesting, the Blue Grosbeak much more closely
resembles the Blue Buntings (Genus Cyanospiza or Passerina). There
are, to be sure, distant resemblances between Guiraca and Hedymeles.
Guiraca belongs between Hedymeles and Passerina; but if we called him
Great Blue Bunting instead of ‘Grosbeak,’ we should come nearer to
expressing the facts.
The Blue Grosbeak is never exactly prominent save during migra-
tions, and then only, as it were, casually. Not knowing precisely the lie
of the land through which he is passing, the bird is at less pains to conceal
himself, and moves about rather sluggishly—along fences or telephone
wires or other exposed places. But when his summer station 1s found—a
willow-lined stream, a brushy patch adjoining a swamp, or even a moist
fallow field—discretion is backed by knowledge of leafy mazes, and escape
iseasy. Like the Lazuli Bunting, however, the Blue Grosbeak chooses a
rather prominent station for song—a tall weed, a wayside fence-post, or
a tree-top. The song is sprightly and exuberant, but not well sustained.
It is a musical outburst with, sometimes, a wild, fresh quality, but it
oftener trails off into a jumble, like the remoter lispings of Passerina.
Exceptional singers do recall the rounder, mellower notes of Hedymeles;
and the offerings are so varied, so individual, that one cannot dogmatize.
Some, not altogether amiss, have compared this song to the burbling of the
House Finch. There should be no mistaking of qualities, but the gushing
fashion of utterance is similar enough. The Grosbeak, however, is not an
indefatigable singer, and too much or too close an attention to his efforts
will send him charging behind the leafy screen.
The lady Grosbeak is not much in evidence at singing time. Pre-
sumably the suitor knows her approximate whereabouts in the shrubbery;
but let her once show her head, and he is after her like a Kansas cyclone.
It is a wonder, surely, that more lovers are not dashed to pieces in their
415
The Blue Grosbeaks
headlong flights through hedgerows and briars. Or, perhaps, it is all a
solemn farce. The lady does not want to get away. She only wants to
be appreciated.
According to Mr. John G. Tyler, of Fresno, who has probably had a
wider experience of this species than any other observer in the State,
the Blue Grosbeaks are closely dependent upon the presence of water
during the nesting period. “‘Along many of the canals and ditches in the
valley grow patches of a plant the name of which I do not recall, but
which greatly resembles in appearance and manner of growth the Chrys-
anthemum. It would probably be no exaggeration to state that seven of
every ten grosbeaks’ nests are built in the clumps of this plant, being fas-
tened to two or three upright shoots, in much the same manner that a
blackbird attaches its basket-like nest to a bunch of tules.”’ If there are
not enough of these favored plants to go around, the Grosbeaks invade the
willows, or even the neighboring orchards. Nests in the weeds are, of
necessity, only three or four feet above the ground, but orchard nests run
ten or a dozen feet in height, and a twenty-foot elevation is of record.
The deeply cupped basket of the Western Blue Grosbeak is both a
more artistic and a more substantial affair than that of Hedymeles. Exter-
nally, it is composed of weed-stems, grasses, and dried leaves; internally,
of grasses, rootlets, and, above all, horsehair. Mr. Tyler says, “‘I have
yet to find a nest that did not have either a piece of paper, or a dry paper-
like leaf woven into the framework somewhere.” A nest in the M. C. O.
collection has a piece of cast-off snake-skin which evidently satisfies this
same requirement.
The eggs, which are of the palest possible “blue” (light niagara
green), unmarked, establish beyond controversy the Passerine connection.
Indeed, they may be distinguished from eggs of our Lazuli Bunting only
by their larger size and somewhat stouter proportions.
Nesting is in May or June (May 18 to June 23 is the Fresno record),
and in an incredibly short time thereafter, by the roth of August at the
outside, the birds are on the move for the South.
Since their stay with us is so brief, and after we have been comfort-
ably assured that these Grosbeaks do not molest fruit, we are not greatly
concerned with their food habits. It is interesting to know, however, that
more than other birds with ‘“‘gross’’ beaks this species is highly insec-
tivorous. Fully two-thirds of its diet is comprised of animal matter,
among which the grasshopper figures prominently. After bugs, come
weed-seed and grain. Family groups assemble at the close of the season in
larger flocks, and since the duller plumages of the female and young pre-
dominate, the old South notices a considerable resemblance between them
and Rice-birds (Dolichonyx orygzivorus). Like the lordly Bobolink in
416
The Rose-breasted Grosbeak
disguise, these birds (or at least the eastern form) are said to inflict some
damage upon the unharvested rice of Louisiana. If so, this is only
another case where governmental compensation, rather than personal re-
venge, ought to be sought. For the Blue Grosbeak, whether c@rulea,
lazula, or salicarius, is unquestionably a useful bird.
No. 73
Rose-breasted Grosbeak
A. O. U. No. 595. Hedymeles ludovicianus (Linnzus).
Description.—Adult male in spring and summer: Head and neck all around
and upperparts sooty black; the rump white with some black tips of feathers, the upper
tail-coverts black with white tips; median coverts and tips of greater white; a large
white patch on primaries basally; inner secondaries and tertials tipped with white;
three outer pairs of rectrices extensively white on the inner webs distally; chest broadly
and breast centrally red (between spectrum red and jasper red); axillars and lining
of wings pink (geranium pink to light jasper red); remaining underparts white. Bill
light horn-color; feet and tarsi brownish gray. Adult male in winter: Quite different;
wings and tail as in summer, but black of head and neck and back replaced by brown,
more or less streaked with black; pattern of head broken by dull buffy superciliaries,
malar stripes, and median crown-stripe; underparts dull brownish white, paling pos-
teriorly; chest more or less suffused with pink, and chest, sides and flanks streaked
with dusky (Ridgway). Adult female in spring and summer: Above and on cheeks
brownish dusky, varied, especially on back and scapulars by brownish or ochraceous
edging; an irregularly defined superciliary stripe white; a still more obscure median
stripe white or buffy white; two narrow white bars on wings formed by white tips of
median coverts and tips of greater coverts continued by outcropping white of distal
portion of white primary-patch; beneath sordid brownish white, tinged with ochraceous
on sides of throat and chest, and more or less on sides and flanks; underparts also sharp-
streaked with dusky, save on chin and throat centrally, and on abdomen and crissum;
sharply and briefly on sides of throat and sides, more heavily and grossly on sides;
axillars and lining of wings light orange-yellow. Length (sexes about equal): 196.85-
215.9 (7.75-8.50); wing 101.6 (4.00); tail 76 (3.00); bill 16.7 (.658); tarsus 22.5 (.886).
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size; black and white of male with red breast
distinctive. Female very different, brownish dusky above, brownish white (heavily
streaked with dusky on chest and sides) below. Requires careful distinction from
female of H. melanocephalus, from which it differs chiefly in the broader streaking of
the underparts, and of course diagnostically in the orange (in place of yellow) of
axillars and wing-linings.
Nesting.— Nest: A frail saucer of interlaced grasses, fibers, or rootlets, placed
at moderate heights in bushes, saplings, or orchard trees. Eggs: 3 to 5, usually 4;
much like those of succeeding species, and not certainly distinguishable from them,
though averaging darker.
417
The Rose-breasted Grosbeak
General Range.—Chiefly eastern North America, breeding north to Nova
Scotia and Ontario, Manitoba, and west to eastern Kansas or, rarely, eastern Colorado
and Alberta (Lesser Slave Lake—Spreadborough) and ‘‘sporadically '’ in northern Cali-
fornia; south in winter over the Bahamas and throughout Mexico and Central America
to Ecuador.
Occurrence in California.—Taken in California, evidently breeding (see
account below), in Humboldt County. Also immature male taken Sept. 10, 1897,
by M. F. Gilman, at Palm Springs.
Authorities.—McLain, Auk, vol. xv., 1898, p. 190 (Myer’s, Humboldt Co.).
Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 3, 1902, p. 59 (Palm Springs); McAtee, U. S. Dept,
Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 32, 1908, p. 33, col. pl. (food); Fry, U. S. Dept. Interior
General Information Regarding Sequoia and General Grant National Parks, Season
of 1912, p. 14; Cooke, U.S. Dept. Agric. Bull., no. 185, 1915, pp. 24, 30, map (migration
route and distribution) ; Gilbert, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 81; Allen, Auk, vol. xxxiii.,
1916, p. 53 (nesting habits, in Mass.).
NO MORE remarkable instance of the sporadic, or rather, eruptive,
occurrence of a species is on record than that furnished by the Rose-
breasted Grosbeak, which was encountered in numbers on July Ist, 1897,
by a party of Stanford students in charge of Professor C. H. Gilbert. The
birds were quartered somewhere on the Nyer Ranch, in Humboldt County,
and they were being shot because of their persistent depredations in the
orchard. From the meager accounts given! we infer that the birds must
have bred in the vicinity. Inasmuch as there is no other record of the
breeding of this species west of the Great Plains States, we must suppose
that a detachment of migrant Grosbeaks faring northward from Colombia
in the spring of 1897 was deflected sharply to the westward, and finding
itself at last in suitable, though unfamiliar, territory, it made the best of
circumstances, both nest-wise and cherry-wise.
There is only one other specific record of the occurrence of this species
in the State, Palm Springs, Riverside County, September 10, 1897, by
M. F. Gilman; and it is significant that this was made during the same
year as the great experiment recorded above. Quite possibly, then, this
bird was a returning member of the Humboldt County colony feeling its
way southward.
Of course lightning sometimes strikes twice in the same place, but
until it does, and so that we may become acquainted with the bird at first
hand, we will content ourselves with a paragraph from the author’s
“Birds of Ohio.”
“During migrations this Grosbeak often keeps to the highest tree-
tops, where his bright colors almost escape notice amidst the newly
1Auk, Vol. XV., April, 1898, p. 190, and Condor, Vol. XVIII., March ,1916, p. 81.
418
Black-headed Grosbeak Feeding Young
From a photograph, Copyright 1914, by D. R. Dickey
Taken in the Ojai
The Black-headed Grosbeaks
bursting verdure; but he is most at home in second-growth thickets and
swampy tangles. In either case, he sings freely, a rich, rolling, continuous
warble, which is among the finest of woodland notes. The song is most
nearly comparable to that of the Scarlet Tanager, but it is to be distin-
guished by its rounder quality, and the entire absence of phrasing. When
singing to his mate, the bird sometimes stands on tiptoe with excitement,
and makes the thickets vibrate with long-drawn melody. Sometimes,
especially if you are known to be watching near, the music is interrupted
by the harsh nasal thkimp or kimp of distrust and warning.”
No. 74
Black-headed Grosbeak
A. O. U. No. 596, part. Hedymeles melanocephalus melanocephalus
(Swainson).
Synonym.—Rocky MountTAIN BLACK-HEADED GROSBEAK.
Description.—A dult male in summer: Head above and on sides, and narrowly
across chin, glossy black, area of black occasionally invaded by a supra-auricular
stripe of orange-tawny; a cervical ring, sides of neck, throat, breast, and sides, rump,
and interrupted stripes connecting rump and cervix, orange-tawny (antique brown),
paling on flanks posteriorly to buckthorn brown; a touch or wash of the lighter shade
also on crissum, which is otherwise white; abdomen narrowly white, middle of breast,
axillars, and lining of wings pure lemon-yellow; remaining upperparts black, inter-
rupted, as aforesaid, on back by tawny, and on wings by broad white tips of median
coverts, narrower white tips of greater coverts and secondaries; basal portion of remiges,
nearly half on primaries, white; the 6th, 7th, and 8th primaries (reckoned from within)
sharply edged with white on the distal portion; rectrices black, the two outer pairs
broadly tipped and the 3rd pair touched with white on inner web; tibie black tipped
with white. Bill dark horn-color, lightening below; feet dark brown. Adult female:
Very different; pattern of male preserved only in yellow of axillars and wing-linings,
with touches of yellow on breast; in general, above blackish, streaked with white;
below fulvous, streaked sharply and narrowly with blackish; pileum blackish, separated
by a coronal stripe of white sharply flecked by black; lores and superciliary broadly
white; back black, broadly edged with whitish or fulvous; white spotting of wings much
restricted; the spots on tail lacking; underparts chiefly whitish, clearest on chin, throat
(or else on sides of throat only), and abdomen; elsewhere more or less suffused with
pale ochraceous, most intensely on breast, and sharply streaked with dusky. Jm-
mature birds resemble the adult female, but the ochraceous element is stronger both
above and below, and the lesser wing-coverts are extensively edged with yellow.
Length of adult males about 201.6 (7.94); wing 100 (3.94); tail 80 (3.15); bill, length
17.5 (.69), depth at base 15 (.59); tarsus 24 (.945). Females scarcely smaller.
Recognition Marks.—The rich orange-tawny throat and underparts of male,
with black head and mingled black and white and tawny of remaining upperparts,
distinctive; the yellow of the wing-linings is especially rewarding as well as distinctive.
419
The Black-headed Grosbeaks
The black-and-white striped head with heavy conical beak (and convex culmen) of
female unmistakable.
Nesting.—As in next form.
Range of Hedymeles melanocephalus.—Western North America from the plateau
of Mexico north, in summer, to eastern Kansas, southeastern Dakota, Montana, and
British Columbia; breeds throughout its range.
Range of H. m. melanocephalus.—Restricted to the portion lying east of the
Sierra-Cascade Mountain system.
Range in California.—At least the Colorado River valley during migrations;
presumably the breeding bird in mountain ranges east of the Sierras (Grinnell).
Authorities.—Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p. 179 (Colorado
R.; occurrence; crit.); Swarth, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 4, 1904, p. 44 (Ariz.; habits,
migr., molt, etc.) ; Oberholser, Auk, vol. xxxvi., 1919, p. 412 (nomencl.; crit.).
No. 74a Pacific Black-headed Grosbeak
A. O. U. No. 596, part. Hedymeles melanocephalus capitalis (Baird).
Description.—Similar to H. m. melanocephalus, but bill averages smaller;
black of crown more liable to invasion of tawny from behind, especially in post-ocular
stripe, and occasionally developing a median crown-stripe.
Remark.—There is no doubt that coastal specimens exhibit this ochraceous
invasion of the cephalic areas more frequently than do Rocky Mountain specimens;
but the latter do show individual examples of the same tendency, and the grounds of
separation are probably invalid.
Nesting.— Nest: Externally a bulky and oftenest airy assemblage of interlaced
twigs or dishevelled weed-stems, or sometimes a generous mass of leaf-bearing twigs
plucked green; internally a rather careful hollow of interwoven rootlets, or else a choice
of finer strands of the materials already used outside—some nests are composed of a
single material rigidly selected; placed at moderate heights in the larger bushes, sap-
lings, or small trees, chiefly those of the riparian association. Eggs: 3 or 4; bluish
green (pale to light niagara green), spotted sparingly or profusely, but always sharply,
sometimes uniformly, but oftener chiefly about larger end (sometimes in wreath or
cloud-cap) with brownish olive, buffy olive, or sepia. Av. of 27 eggs (of both races):
24.1 xX 17.5 (.95 x .69). Season: May—June; one brood.
Range of H. m. capitalis——The Pacific Coast district of western North America,
broadly; probably includes eastern slopes of Sierra-Cascade system.
Distribution in California.—Common breeder in Upper Sonoran and Tran-
sition zones practically throughout the State. Association preferably riparian or in
deciduous timber (but found alike in humid Transition and in arid Upper Sonoran.
Casual in winter in the San Diegan district (Santa Barbara, Dec. 25, 1915, following).
Authorities.—Heermann (Coccoborus melanocephalus), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci.
Phila., ser. 2, ii., 1853, p. 267; Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 498;
Shufeldt, Auk, vol. v., 1888, p. 438 (osteology); F. A. Merriam, Auk, vol. xiii., 1896,
p- 120 (song, flight); McAtee, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 32, 1908, p. 60,
col. pl. (food); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 34, 1910, p. 93 (food);
BIX, and again, bzx. It is our own bird that speaks from the shrub-
bery on an August day, and by this alone we know that the minstrel of
420
The Black-headed Grosbeaks
Taken in Oregon Photo by Finley & Bohlman
KEEPING A DINNER ENGAGEMENT
springtime is with us still. How he gladdened those fresh hours! And
how he sang on, cheerful, melodious, content, until June had silenced
other singers of the lower levels. The Black-headed Grosbeak is a bird
beloved of Californians. Gentle, modest, unassuming, he moves about
with quiet dignity which proclaims his worth; and when he does consent
to be interviewed, the reporter is sure to wax enthusiastic over his some-
what bizarre beauty. For my part, I never hear those first mellow flut-
ings of springtime without being seized with a wild desire to see the singer,
and to quench the thirst of long abstinence by a satisfying vision of black
and white and ochraceous tawny. As a sporting proposition, too, I
always insist upon getting under the bird, so as to catch the flash of yellow
which his wings disclose in flight. Strange, is it not? that the most bril-
liant color in his mottled costume, yellow of spectrum purity, should lie
concealed under the singer’s armpits! The female, too, boasts (or,
rather, she never boasts) yellow axillaries. Otherwise, her costume is the
palest possible replica of her lord’s. Her blacks have become blackish, or
that nondescript color known to naturalists as “‘fuscous.’’ Ochraceous
tawny has become cinnamon-buff, or pinkish buff. She parts her hair,
somewhat anxiously, in the middle; and her sides are plentifully streaked
with blackish, to break up the pattern and to deceive the eye. Only her
g2T
The Black-headed Grosbeaks
spouse could possibly deem her beautiful, and he, as every one knows, is
blinded by springtide’s passion. Her only virtue, so far as I can see, is to
say dix quite dutifully—also quite emphatically—and so keep up the
Grosbeak tradition.
The glory of the Black-headed Grosbeak is his song—not often a
brilliant or wonderful song, but always a jovial, rolling, or eumoirous
song. Sometimes it is a little argumentative, as though the singer, having
taken a brief for optimism, had encountered a skeptic. Sometimes the
singer’s heart is so full that he carries his song about with him while he
works. Bug-catching is a very necessary occupation, so he follows it
dutifully, but song breaks out after every third or fourth bug, and it
follows him about as he threads the mazes of willow and alder or mountain
birch. At such times, too, his progress is further punctuated by bzxes,
all harmless, apparently, but delivered with such energy that a camper
caught at close quarters starts to his feet.
The song of the Black-headed Grosbeak is frequently compared to
that of the Western Robin. Chance phrases caught at a distance are
sometimes indistinguishable. But the Grosbeak’s song lacks at all times
the incisiveness of the Robin’s carol. Its notes are softer, rounder, mel-
lower, and a little weaker. The bird himself is not so brusque. Heard at
close quarters there are grace notes and little embellishments which exceed
the Robin’s art. Once, at the foot of Mt. Shasta, I listened to a perfectly
wonderful song of the Black-headed Grosbeak. He must have been
within thirty feet of me, behind a screen of manzanita brush, so that I got
the modulations and finer passages. But the singer was, undoubtedly, a
bird of ten thousand, for his voice was fine and exquisitely flexible, so that
he executed the most brilliant trills and appogiaturas. Although I am
loth to institute such a comparison, | am bound to confess that much of
his music was like that of a highly trained canary, for it was brilliant,
crystalline, exquisitely modulated, and highly varied. This bird was not
at all above giving the hearty, homely, rolling song of his species, but he
graced it anew with every repetition, as became a highly accomplished
artist. The concerto was all too brief, for the Grosbeak is rather a rest-
less spirit; but his memorable effort taught me an altogether new respect
for his species. And, after all, doesn’t a bird species, like the human
race, deserve to be judged by its best examples?
The happiness which fills the Grosbeak’s breast carries into the nest-
ing season. He isso proud to have Mrs. G. honor him with her company,
that he is willing to help build the nest, or at least to pretend to—singing
is always more important on such occasions—and he is willing, more than
willing, to take his turn at sitting upon those precious eggs. This
means that he is a model husband and father. The glory of paternity
422
The Black-headed Grosbeaks
fills his being. The wonder of life amazes him. The graciousness of
Mrs. G. is extraordinary. The eggs which she has deposited in the family
basket are nothing less than superb. So this doting, marveling, and alto-
gether amiable idealist sings as he works, sings as he contemplates his
offspring-to-be, the imprisoned mysteries within those walls of freckled
blue; and as he feels the warm, round wonders pressing against his
breast, he breaks ever and again into joyous song.
Truth to tell, the singing of the male Grosbeak is the surest guide
to the nest, carelessly placed, midway, in bush or sapling. And if the
male is disturbed at his task, or if he hears the anxious cry of his mate,
this gentle bird has no recourse, again, but song. How does he do it, pour
out those tender, trustful notes of ecstacy, while the enemy is threatening
his dearest treasures? And yet, believe me, it is the most disarming pro-
cedure imaginable. One may overpower a snarling wild-cat. The bom-
bastic objurgations of a Long-eared Owl make nest-robbing a sacred duty,
a challenge met and disposed of, but you
cannot fetter a song—nor forget it. In
extreme need, as when the young are
nearly grown, I have known these
Grosbeaks to raise a shriek of sharpest
agony, a sound at once so terrifying
and so pitiful that no one
could wish to
stay. Itis
Taken in Ventura County
From a Photograph, at A ¥ WAS
Copyright 1914, by ‘ \ a \ FE
Donald R. Dickey a os oe 8
A MODEL SUBJECT—FEMALE GROSBEAK ON NEST
the master cry of distress, and at the sound of it all the lesser songsters of
the woods come pell-mell to the rescue.
The nest of the Black-headed Grosbeak is of singularly light and
open construction, evidencing, as we suppose, the habit of the tropics,
423
The Black-headed Grosbeaks
where ventilation, rather than conservation of heat, is the object sought.
Some nests are so thin that the eggs may be counted from below. Asa
usual thing the nest is composed almost entirely of coiled rootlets, with,
at best, a little chevaux de frise of plant-stems. One nest in the M. C. O.
collection is composed entirely of slender blackish twigs cunningly inter-
laced, a very durable, if
also airy, structure. A
pair of Grosbeaks nest-
ing on the Salinas River
near San Ardo hit upon
an ingenious plan for
keeping cool. Instead of
the usual lace-work con-
struction, they heaped
up a mass of green wil-
low leaves, plucking for
the purpose the terminal
twigs of the youngest
trees, and wedging them
to a height of nine inches
in a convenient crotch.
In the top of this mass,
kept cool by reason of evap-
orating moisture, they set
the conventional root-
lined cup. Wehavealso
a nest from Arizona where
the same idea has been
followed out less boldly,
—a root cup surrounded
by a two-inch stratum of
green leaves of the nar-
row-leafed willow.
Lik
Se MOONY another Taken in Ventura County Photo by Donald R. Dickey
species, the Black- TAKING ORDERS
headed Grosbeak dis-
plays a strong local attachment, and will return year after year to a given
copse or tangle, or even to the very bush. The nests, although so light,
are sturdy enough, and the occupation of former years is evidenced by
contemporary cabins in successive stages of disrepair.
A Grosbeak family makes a pretty group at, or just before, nest-
leaving time. Few birds show more clearly the essential values and
424
PS 4
The Black-headed Grosbeaks
sexual differences of parenthood. The mother is timid as well as tender,
indefatigable, indeed, in household ministrations, but a little pensive
withal, a clinging vine. The father is a hustler as well as an idealist.
He manages to bring in great loads of food every ten or fifteen minutes,
and the youngsters thrive amazingly. Nor does this model parent allow
increasing cares to weigh down his spirits. Even with his ‘“‘market bas-
ket” laden to the brim, he shouts a cheerful snatch of song to herald his
approach; and the children greet his return with clamorous applause.
Lucky children of “Big Bill’! he has a big heart, as well as a big beak.
If we must descend to inquire as to the economic standing of our
large-billed friend, we shall find that he has a large and cultivated appe-
tite. We will admit with a smile that he is very fond of fruit in season,
especially cherries and figs. Well, then, feed him; he deserves the fat
of the land. Give him the best, and present the bill to the community.
The community ought to be made to pay, for the Grosbeak 1s a community
guest, and he ts one of our chief benefactors. And I speak not alone of song,
but of benefits far more substantial. Hear what W. L. McAtee,! the
Government expert, has to say about it:
“Aside from the fact that ravages by the Grosbeak may be prevented
or greatly reduced without destroying the birds, it is evident that their
general services to agriculture are so valuable that their destruction is
not to be considered. It is to be noted: First, that the animal food of
the Blackhead, consisting almost wholly of injurious insects, is practically
twice the bulk of the vegetable, or more than four times that portion
which is pilfered from man. Second, that the bird could not possibly
select insects more prejudicial to the interests of western horticulture than
the ones forming its natural food. These include the codling moth,
cankerworms, flower-beetles, and such scale insects as the frosted, apricot
and black olive scales. Finally, these formidable fruit destroyers alone,
not to mention 20 per cent of other injurious insects, compose two-fifths
of the entire amount of the Black-headed Grosbeak’s food from April to
September, or at least three times as much by actual bulk as the fruit con-
sumed. In other words, for every quart of fruit eaten, more than three
pints of black olive scales and more than a quart of flower-beetles, besides
a generous sprinkling of codling moth pupe and cankerworms fall prey
to this Grosbeak.”
A peck of cherries is worth, say, two dollars to the producer. Set
that against the debit side of the bird’s account. Granting that he could
do it at all, how much of a man’s time would it take, without injury or
sacrifice of tree stock, to collect half a bushel of black olive scales? Say
1Food Habits of the Grosbeaks, Bureau of Biological Survey Bulletin, No. 32, 1908, p. 76.
425
The Black-headed Grosbeaks
two weeks? At three dollars per day? Thirty-six dollars! Put that
on the credit side of the Grosbeak’s account. But the man couldn’t
do it; and there is in that half bushel of pests potential destruction of a
hundred olive trees, or at least one season’s crop, say a hundred bushels,
worth four dollars a bushel. Total saved to the community four hun-
dred dollars, less two dollars for board! Johnny, get your gun! There’sa
bird eating a cherry!
For Younger Readers
HANDSOME is that handsome does, they tell us, and this bird
is handsome any way you take him. He has a good heart as well as
good clothes, but I guess we'll look at his clothes first. It takes a
good deal of time to look at a heart, or to find out “handsome does.”
Or, no! the very first thing we do when we meet a new friend 1s to look
at his face, isn’t it? And a Grosbeak’s face is almost all bill. Gros-
beak is the same as gross beak, and that means big bill. Suppose we
call him Big Bill. Big Bill has a black-and-white suit, on top at
least; but he is buried in front in a great big orange apron (golden
brown, somebody called it), which ties behind in two places. And
under the arms (wings are the same as arms, you know) there’s a big
patch of yellow that you can’t see except when the bird 1s flying.
And when Mother Nature was trying to hide the yellow under his
arms, she spilt some of the color down the front of his apron. Now
that’s what I calla pretty complete description. Mrs. Grosbeak looks
a good deal the same, only she’s been many times through the wash,
and most of the color has soaked out—all except the yellow patch
under her wings, and that didn’t soak out because she kept her wings
tight shut when she was in the wash.
Mr. and Mrs. Grosbeak spend the winter down south somewhere,
in Mexico, I guess; but they come back to California in the spring-
time, when the bugs are ripe; and then Mr. Grosbeak spends half his
time catching bugs and the other half singing. My! how sweetly he
sings! round, rich, rolling notes that make you so glad you're here,
and so glad he came, and so glad—oh, for just everything. I can’t
tell you how he sings, of course. You must hear him the very first
chance you get.
26
The Black-headed Grosbeaks
Taken in Oregon Photo by Finley & Bohlman
BIG BILL AND HIS BROOD
Big Bill is one of the very few people who ever succeeded in work-
ing and playing at the same time. At least, singing is a sort of play, I
suppose. And bug-catching, believe me, is real work. Why, this
bird catches the bad beetles that want to spoil our rose bushes, and he
eats those funny little black things that get on the bark of your fruit
trees and stick so tight—black olive scales, we call them. And if it
wasn’t for the busy bird, the scale insects would suck all the juice out
of our trees, so that they couldn’t make fruit any more. So he’s at it
early and late, and every little while he stops to sing. And when the
Grosbeak sings, we stop and listen. We just can’t help it. It
sounds like a Robin sometimes, only we know that the Robins have
gone north, so it can’t be a Robin.
But that isn’t all about the “handsome does.” This jolly bird
and his washed-out mate make a nest somewhere in the bushes. They
make it out of little roots, and the walls of the nest are sometimes so
thin that you can count the eggs from below, one, two, three—or
maybe four. And as likely as not, it is the father bird who is sitting
on the eggs to keep them warm. And he is so happy, oh, so happy,
that he just can’t help singing even when he is sitting on the nest and
ought, I suppose, to keep very still. He is thinking about the dear
little babies that are coming by and by out of those speckled blue
eggs. He loves children, so he just can’t help singing.
427
The Summer Tanagers
And by and by those eggs do break open, and out roll some
squirming, naked babies, bird babies, one, two, three—or maybe
four. And their little eyes aren’t open yet; but they can open their
mouths, oh, so wide. Big Bill’s little babies have big bills, too; and
Big Bill and Mrs. Big Bill have to hurry and hurry and hurry to fill
them. But no matter how much of a hurry Big Bill is in, he never
loses his temper. When he goes away to hunt food, he says a little
goodby song, and when he comes back with his bill chock full of bugs,
he shouts a merry “Hello, I’m coming!’ Nobody knows how he can
do it with his mouth chock full, but he does, and you’d hardly know
the difference. And how the children shout when they hear him
coming! . They’re not very well mannered, I fear, for they shout,
“Me, too; I'm hungry, Daddy!” But everybody is good-natured
about it. And by-and-by they learn to say, “It’s sister’s turn first,”
or “I have enough; give little Bill some.”
And, if you’ll believe it, I never saw a cross Grosbeak baby; nor
ever once saw little Bill slap sister Betty. Of course I don’t know
why, but I think it is because Big Bill is so gentle and so happy-
hearted and so handsome.
No. 75
Summer Tanager
A. O. U. No. 610. Piranga rubra rubra (Linnzus).
Synonym.—SuMMER RED-BIRD.
Description.—Adult male (no seasonal changes): Dull red, darker above
(madder brown), lighter below (jasper red); wing-quills dusky on exposed ends and
unexposed inner webs. Bill and feet light brown. Adult female (no seasonal changes):
“Above plain yellowish olive-green, more yellowish on pileum, lower rump, and upper
tail-coverts, the back and scapulars sometimes tinged with grayish; primaries grayish
brown with light yellowish olive-green edgings; lores pale yellowish gray; an indis-
tinct orbital ring of light dull yellow; underparts dull yellow (wax-yellow or dull maize-
yellow) ; the under tail-coverts purer yellow (chrome-yellow); bill and feet as in adult
male’’ (Ridgway). Immature male: Much like adult female, but somewhat more
richly colored; above more ochraceous; the pileum, edges of primaries, upper tail-
coverts, and tail, tinged with dull orange or orange ochraceous. First year male (?)
428
The Summer Tanagers
in spring (possibly also second year male): The yellows clearing and the reds of adult
plumage appearing in scattered patches. Immature female: Like adult female but
slightly duller. Length of adult male about 190.5 (7.50); wing 95 (3.74); tail 72 (2.84);
bill 17.5 (.69); tarsus 19 (.75). Females average slightly less.
Recognition Marks.—See next form.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: A rather frail structure of
twigs and interlaced weed-stems; lined with grasses; and placed at moderate heights
in bushes or trees, often settled well out toward end of horizontal branch. Eggs:
4; pale bluish green (‘‘egg”’ green, i. e., pale to light niagara green), finely and sparingly
or boldly and heavily spotted with brown (bister or Saccardo’s umber to tawny olive).
Ay. size 24.1 x 16.8 (.95 x .66). Season: Early June; one brood.
Range of Piranga rubra.—Southern United States and northern Mexico; south
in winter to the Antilles and northern South America.
Range of P. rubra rubra—Breeds in the eastern states north to about Lat-
itude 40; casually north to provinces of southern Canada; in winter, south to the
Antilles, eastern Mexico, etc., to Guiana and eastern Peru.
Occurrence in California.—Two records, both by Loye Holmes Miller: March
10, 1919, Arroyo Seco, between Los Angeles and Pasadena; ib., ib., Aug. 29, 1919.
Authorities.— Miller, Condor, vol. xxi., 1919, p. 129 (Los Angeles); 7bid.,
vol. xxii., 1920, p. 78 (Los Angeles).
Remarks.—The reported occurrence of any subspecies a thousand miles out
of its usual range, and near that assigned to another subspecies, always lays a heavy
burden of proof upon the expert. But the records given us by Professor Miller of
the occurrence of Piranga rubra rubra near Los Angeles deserve special consideration.
The record station, Arroyo Seco, between Los Angeles and Pasadena, is more than 200
miles west of the regular range of P. r. cooperit. That a single observer, working at
one station, should have caught both the spring and the fall movement (March to
and August 29, 1919) of an exotic form, is indicative of a definite movement, however
aberrant. It is quite conceivable that a wandering party of Summer Tanagers, de-
flected by early storms, but urged on by the northing instinct, should have bred at
some central point in California in the summer of 1919, much as did a party of Rose-
breasted Grosbeaks ( Hedymeles ludovicianus) in Humboldt County in the summer of
1897.
No. 75a Cooper’s Tanager
A. O. U. No. 610a. Piranga rubra cooperi Ridgway.
Synonym.—WESTERN SUMMER TANAGER.
Description.—Similar to P. 7. rubra, but decidedly larger; male lighter red,
female grayer above and duller below. Adult male: Above pompeian red (a little
brighter); below bright jasper red. Occasionally older (?) birds are much paler.
Female: Above buffy citrine (olive-yellow), lightening to old gold on pileum, rump,
skirtings of primaries, and tail; below olive-ochre, clearing centrally and on lower
tail-coverts to wax-yellow. Length 196.8-203.2 (7.75-8.00); av. of 10 adult males
from Colorado River valley, M. V. Z. coll: wing 100.7 (3.97); tail 78.6 (3.09); bill
20.4 (.80); tarsus 20.9 (.82).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow to towhee size; all-red coloration of male dis-
tinctive (save as regards the accidental P. r. rubra). Female requires discrimination
from that of P. ludoviciana. Its yellows incline toward orange instead of greenish,
and it lacks the whitish wing-bars of /udoviciana.
429
The Summer Tanagers
Nesting.— Nest: Placed 15 to 20 feet up in willow or mesquite tree of riparian
associations; a careless affair of coarse grasses, weed-stems, and rootlets or trash,
saddled on horizontal limb. Eggs: 4; asin P. r. rubra, but markings perhaps averaging
smaller; not so clear-cut as in P. ludoviciana. Av. of 8 eggs in M. C. O. coll: 22.9
x 17 (.90 x .67). Season: June; one brood.
Range of P. 7. cooperi.—Breeds in Southwestern States and in northern Mexico
from southern Nevada and northeastern New Mexico, south to Nuevo Leon and Du-
rango; winters in Mexico south to Morelos and Colima; accidental (?) in Colorado.
Distribution in California.—Breeds in the Colorado River valley. Of casual
occurrence in the San Diegan district; (Santa Barbara, “‘spring’’ of 1885, Streator;
San Clemente Island, Oct. 11, 1907, Linton).
Authorities.—Cooper, Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 142; Baird, Brewer, and Ridgway,
Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. iii., 1874, p. 508 (Ariz.; desc. nest and eggs); Brewster, Bull.
Nutt. Orn. Club, vol. vii., 1882, p. 147 (Ariz.; meas., etc.); ibzd., Auk, vol. ii., 1885,
p- 198 (Ariz.; desc. young, etc.); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p. 182
(Colorado R.; habits, etc.). Streator, Orn. and O6l., vi., 1886, p. 52; Stephens, Condor,
vol. v., 1903, p. 104; Linton, Condor, vol. v., 1908, p. 85.
THE WESTERN Summer Redbird occurs regularly in summer
along the valley of the lower Colorado. One surmises that it may have
occurred also in that oldtime mesquite forest of the Salton Sink, now
drowned out by the latest eruption of ‘‘New” River. For all it is so bril-
liant in color, every feather being wholly red, or at least tinged with red,
the male cooperi is not easily seen in its spring setting of complementary
greens. Besides, the bird is very deliberate in movement, adding, perhaps,
to the natural languor of the Southland a consciousness that hawks and
others are wont to penalize pernicious activity. Be that as it may, the
male makes a virtue of indiligence, and is gratefully content to be just
beautiful. The female, however, in spite of the fact that nature has done
her utmost for her in the way of dull yellows and melting olive-greens, is
unwilling to take any chances, and so she slips away adroitly upon the
faintest suspicion of approach.
The case of the young male, who is ‘“‘bechwixt and bechune,”’ is a
challenge to attention. Beginning life with the modest garb of his mother,
he spends two or three years in the laborious acquisition, by bits and
patches, of the proper masculine vermilion. As a consequence, for sev-
eral seasons he looks like a flying crazy-quilt; and one wonders how he
manages to survive the merciless “‘ragging’’ of the ladies.
The Cooper Tanager has a full, rounded song of familiar Tanagrine
quality, although it lacks something of the acid sharpness and burred r’s
which characterize P. ludoviciana. It may be not inaptly compared with
the vocal effort of the Black-headed Grosbeak, or, on occasion, to the dis-
connected phrasing of the Red-eyed Vireo. These Tanagers make fre-
quent use, also, of a mildly sturdy call-note, chick ztew, or kit it 1t tew. This
430
The Summer Tanagers
Nesting.— Nest: Piaced 15 to 20 feet up in willow or mesquite tree of riparian
associations; a careless affair of coarse grasses, weed-stems, and rootlets or trash,
saddled on horizontal limb. Eggs: 4; asin P. r. rubra, but markings perhaps averaging
smaller; not so clear-cut as in 2. ludovictana. Ay. of 8 eggs in M. C. O. coll: 22.9
x 17-90 x .67). Season: June; one brood.
Range of P. r. coopert.—Breeds in Southwestern States and in northern Mexico
froni southern Nevada and northeastern New Mexico, south to Nuevo Leon and Du-
Trango; winters in Mexico south to Morelos and Colima; accidental (?) in Colorado.
Distribution in California.—Breeds in the Colorado River valley. Of casual
occurrence in the San Diegan district; (Santa Barbara, ‘‘spring’’ of 1885, Streator;
San Clemente island, Oct. 12, 1907, Linton). :
Authorities.—Cooper, Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 142; Bazrd, Brewer, and Ridgway,
Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. iit., 1874, p. 508 (Ariz.; desc. nest and eggs); Brewster, Buil.
Nutt. Orn. Chab, vol. vii., 1882, p. 147 (Ariz.; meds., éte.): 2bid., Auk, vol. ii.; 1885).
p. 198 (Ariz.; desc. young, etc.); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol xit., 1914, p. 182
(Colorado R.; habits, eic.). “Streator, Orn. and Ocl., vi. 1884, p, 52; Stephens, Condor,
wol, -v., 1903, p. 104; Lanton, Condor, vol. v.,. 8905, o. Bk
THE WESTERN Summer Redbird octura regularly in summer.
along the valley of the lower Colorado. One surmises that it may have
occurred also in that oldtime mesquite forest of the Salton Sink, now
drowned out by the latest eruption of ‘‘New’’ River, For all it is so bril-
fiant in color, every feather being wholly red, or at least tinged with red,
the Ae oo is not easily seen in its spring setting of eee
aa Tanagers’ canoes) Ae e) arid ‘Cooper Tanagers (below)
to t toa tern’ Ta angnod 0 outhiand a eee at bel S wees
vous es, irearl ly y 7 ie size,
ethers are wont to _ Ma Ze nd females, ne act(vit e that as it may, the
male makes a virtue of indiligence, and is oe eat content to be just
beautiful, The female, however, in spite of the fact that nature has done
her utmost for her in the way of dull yellows and melting olive-greens, is
unwilling to take any chances, and so she slips away adroitly upon the
faintest suspicion of approach.
The case of the young male, who is “bechwixt and bechune,’’s a
challenge to attention. Beginning life with the modest garb of his mother,
he spends two or three years in the laborious acquisition, by bits and
patches, of the proper masculine vermilion. As a consequence, for sev-
eral seasons he looks like a flying crazy- quilt; and one wonders Bow he
manages to survive the merciless icin of the ladies.
The Cooper Tanager has a full, rounded song of familiar Tanagrine a)
quality, although it lacks something of the acid sharpness and burred r’s ©
which characterize P. doviciana. It may be not inaptly compared with...
the vocal effort of the Biack-headed Grosbeak, or, on occasion, to the dis- _
connected phrasing of the Red-eyed Vireo. These Tanagers make fre-_
quent use, also, of a mildly sturdy call-note, chick ttew, or Rit it it tew. This
430
. pier
ry
1
nok
The Western Tanager
may be a mere keep-in-touch call between the birds themselves; or it may
express a strong suspicion that strangers are about; or it may voice vig-
orous disapproval, as when the nest is threatened. Whatever be the im-
port of the note, its utterance is the only act in any wise approaching
violence of which these leisurely and always genteel Southerners can
possibly be guilty.
The sight of a male Cooper Tanager lighting on the ground to glean
a recreant bug is not to be forgotten. It is a vision of ravishing redness,
and one’s first impulse is to admonish the vision for its rashness. But
even royalty feels hunger and thirst at times. One day in Arizona
the writer spent an hour watching a little water-hole where a tired river
had died within sight of a disappointed mesquite forest. Its approaches
were marked by the imprint of a thousand tiny feet, but cover there was
none, only dunnest dust. Among the doughty visitors came this sym-
phony in red, a superb old male Cooper Tanager. I could scarcely
believe my luck, but the bird approached demurely, according to his wont,
and selecting a root which projected conveniently from the margin of the
pool, proceeded to assuage his thirst. And as he drank, or rather, sipped,
chick-a-biddy fashion, he was utterly unconscious either of my frank
admiration or of lurking dangers. Believe me, what with image and reflec-
tion, that portion of the pool wherein Pzranga drank was illuminated for
aseason! Oh, to have had an autochrome plate!
No. 76
Western Tanager
A. O. U. No. 607. Piranga ludoviciana (Wilson).
Synonyms.—LoulIsIANA TANAGER. CRIMSON-HEADED TANAGER.
Description.—Adult male in spring and summer: Head all around and throat,
broadly, bright red (nopal red), the color most intense on forehead and crown, shading
posteriorly; back, wings, and tail black, the feathers of back often slightly margined
with yellow; the tips of greater coverts pale yellow or yellowish white; the posterior
portion of lesser wing-coverts, the middle coverts, hind-neck, rump, upper tail-coverts,
and all remaining underparts rich yellow. Bill wax-yellow, browning on culmen; iris
brown; feet and legs bluish gray. Adult male in autumn: As in spring, but red want-
ing, or indicated by faint tinge, the yellow of occiput and hind-neck veiled by olive
greenish or dusky tips; the tertials tipped with pale yellow, and the rectrices with
white. Adult female: Somewhat like male, but much duller, without red, or some-
times tinged with reddish about face; above olive-gray; changing on head, rump,
and upper tail-coverts to pyrite yellow; below olive-yellow, clearing on middle of
breast and under tail-coverts to strontian yellow. Jmmature males resemble the
adult female and only gradually acquire the clearer, brighter plumage of maturity.
431
The Western Tanager
Immature female: Like adult female, but duller; little contrast above; more exten-
sively olivaceous below. Length 177.8 (7.00); wing 95 (3.75); tail 71 (2.80); bill
15 (.59); tarsus 20.5 (.80).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; sedate ways; pittic note. Black and yellow
with crimson head of male distinctive; dull olive of female not likely to be confused
when size is discriminated (but see under P. rubra cooperi). The female Tanager
bears a strong superficial resemblance to the juvenal plumage of the Scott Oriole
(Icterus parisorum), although its yellows are brighter and its beak stouter; but they
are associationally different.
Nesting.— Nest: A rather thin-walled and often careless structure, usually
scantily provided with external furniture of interlaced twigs or weed-stems, or long
pine needles; lining of interwoven rootlets, or more rarely of grasses, and occasionally
supplemented by horsehair; settled into investing foliage of horizontal branch of pine
or fir tree, usually near tip, or more rarely, at moderate heights in deciduous shrub.
Eggs: 4, or rarely, 5; light bluish green (light niagara green), spotted sharply and
rather sparingly, often minutely, with dark grayish olive, or fuscous (shading to drab).
Av. of 31 California-taken eggs in M. C. O. coll: 22.9 x 16.5 (.90 x .65); extremes:
19.8-25.9 by 15.2-17 (.78-1.02 by .60-.67). Season: June; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding from high Upper Sonoran
to Boreal zones, and from southwestern Mackenzie, northern British Columbia,
and southwestern South Dakota, south to western Texas and southern California;
wintering from central Mexico south through the highlands of Guatemala; of casual
occurrence during migrations in the eastern states and as far as Maine.
Distribution in California.—A common migrant practically throughout the
State, locally and sporadically abundant; breeds chiefly in Transition zones from the
San Jacinto Mountains north along both slopes of the Sierran ridge, and in associated
mountains, including the inner coast ranges of northern California; also locally through-
out the Coast Range system south to Santa Barbara (Bowles, 1910; also Dawson,
1915). The Western Tanager is a spring loiterer and the following records, although
interesting, do not necessarily indicate local breeding: Farallon Ids., June 1, 1911;
Lathrop, San Joaquin County, May 26, 1912; Ben Lomond, Santa Cruz County,
May 18, 1914; Los Banos, Merced County, May 30, 1914; The Pinnacles, San Benito
County, May 17, 1916.
Authorities.—Heermann, Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, ii., 1853, p.
267 (Calif.); Emerson, vol. v., 1903, p. 64 (Haywards; unusual migratory ‘‘wave’’);
Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 30, 1907, p. 23 (food); Grinnell, Univ.
Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1908, p. 105 (San Bernardino Mts.; nest and eggs, etc.);
Cooke, U. S. Dept. Agric. Bull., no. 185, 1915, p. 23, figs. 9, 10, maps (distr. and migr.).
RED, yellow and black—can anyone imagine a more dashing color
combination! and the colors are all guaranteed pure—prime, or ‘‘spec-
trum”’ yellow for the collar, rump, epaulets, and underparts; spectrum red
for the forehead, crown, and as much of the remainder of the head as the
age of the wearer entitles him to; black, also of the purest, albeit not
glossy, and picked off appropriately on wings and tail with white, and on
the back with yellowish edgings. It is a costume for a king!
Of course the young birds are not entitled to all this finery. The
432
The Western Tanager
merest suggestion of red upon the
forehead is enough to distinguish a
growing son from his mother; and
nesting males two or three seasons
old may be poorly furnished as to the
head. On the other hand, old males
sometimes become so drunk with red-
ness that it begins to ooze out upon
the feathers of breast, rump, and
crissum.
Seen in the hand, this vivid cos-
tume would seem to assure a very
conspicuous bird, but afield it is not
so. Seen against the changing green
of willows, pines, or fir trees, these
brilliant colors are lost to any but the
most attentive eye. A resplendent
male does not hesitate to stand
quietly upon the end of a branch and
survey you until his curlosity 1S fully Taken in Santa Barbara County
ee . . . Photo by the Author
satisfied. This quiet attitude of gen-
. . “A QUIET ATTITUDE OF GENTEEL
teel curiosity seems to be character- CURIOSITY”
istic of all Tanagers. Apart from its
psychological bearings, sedateness would seem to play an effective part in
modifying the attractions of bright plumage.
In the spring migrations the male birds precede the dull-colored
females by several days, and the movement is likely to be deflected, or
retarded, by weather conditions, so that at a time a whole countryside
may be aroused to the splendor of these avian visitors. Such a Tanager
wave we well remember at Santa Barbara in late April and early May of
the year 1912. The birds “‘fairly swarmed,” so says the note-book, along
the fences or through the mustard patches which lined the lesser indenta-
tions of the sea-cliffs. Without exaggeration I think I may say that one
could have seen a hundred adult males in the course of an afternoon’s
drive.
It is to be feared that these congested movements affect the fruit
grower to some extent. The beauties are hungry, and berries are very
much appreciated, thank you. A lady in Montecito, noting the predilec-
tion of the birds for fruit, had a wheel-like arrangement placed on top of a
stake driven in her lawn. Upon the end of each spoke half an orange,
freshly cut, was made secure. The Tanager saw and appreciated; and the
lady had the satisfaction of seeing as many as twelve Tanagers feeding on
43S
The Western Tanager
the wheel at one time. Think of it! Never was a more distinguished
array of beauty at a single function—not in Montecito even.
The historic flight of 1896, reported by Mr. W. Otto Emerson,! was,
perhaps, the most memorable on record. Practically the entire State was
invaded, and in certain fruit-growing sections the Tanager-wave assumed
the proportions of a scourge. Ina single cherry orchard near Haywards
Mr. Emerson estimates that during the last two weeks of May not less
than 600 Tanagers were killed, and that the number might have been as
high asa thousand. At Pasadena Mr. H. A. Gaylord reported their maxi-
mum abundance as occurring
from May 6th to 16th, and adds:
“The damage done to cherries in
one orchard was so great that
the sale of the fruit which was
left did not balance the bills
paid out for poison and ammuni-
tion. The Tanagers lay all over
the orchard, and were, so to
speak, ‘corded up’ by hundreds
under the trees.’’ One must
conclude that the travel of the
entire Tanager population of
western North America was
routed by way of California that
season. It is only fair to add
that the depredations commit-
ted by these birds in ordinary
seasons are quite negligible.
While chiefly silent during
the migrations, the arrival of
the birds upon their chosen sum-
mer sites is betokened by the
frequent utterance of a pettish
pit’ic or pit'itic. The full-voiced
song grows with the season, but
at its best it is little more than
an étude in R. “It is remotely
comparable to that of the Robin,
but it is more stereotyped in
form, briefer, and uttered at
Taken in Fresno County Photo by the Author
A SIERRAN_HAUNT OF THE,WESTERN TANAGER ieeador Vol. V., May, 1903, pp. 64-66.
The Western Tanager
Taken in Modoc County Photo by the Author
NEST IN YELLOW PINE
A FEMALE TANAGER MAY BE DIMLY DISCERNED BENEATH THE X MARK
intervals rather than continuously sustained. The notes are sharp-
edged, and rich in r’s, while the movement of the whole, though
deliberate, is varied, and the tone cheerful.”’! I can detect no constant
difference between the song of the Western Tanager and that of the
Scarlet Tanager (P. erythromelas), save that that of the former is oftener
prefaced with the call note, thus: Puteric whew, we soor a-ary e-erie
witooer. This song, however, is less frequently heard than that of the
Scarlet Tanager, East. Its perfect rendition, moreover, argues the near
presence of a demure little lady in olive, a person who looks like nobody in
particular to our undiscriminating gaze, but who exerts a strange fascina-
tion over our brilliant squire. Young males of the second summer sing
hopefully, but they are less often successful in love than their ruddier
rivals.
It behooves the Tanager maiden to be exacting in her choice, for all
the help she will get out of him at best will be sympathy and song. When
it comes to real work, like nest building, she must do it. He will graciously
advise as to the situation, some horizontal branch of fir or pine, from six to
fifty feet high, and from three to twenty feet out. He will even accompany
1 Applied to P. erylhromelas in ‘‘The Birds of Ohio,’’ p. 109, and exactly applicable here.
435
The Western Tanager
her on her laborious trips after nesting material, cooing amiable nothings,
and oozing approval at every joint,—but help her?—wevaire!
The nest is quite a substantial affair though rather roughly put to-
gether, of fir twigs, rootlets, and moss, with a more or less heavy lining of
horse- or cow-hair, and other soft substances. The four eggs of bluish
green, dotted and spotted with lavender and dark greenish slate, appear
especially handsome from above, when viewed against the dark brown
nest. But, as everybody knows, the red fir (Pseudotsuga taxtfolia) is a tree
of moods and tenses. You may dangle with impunity from the very tips
of the branches of some fir trees, while a step from the trunk is fatal in
others of the same general appearance. The Tanagers are quite as apt
to patronize the brittle kind.
In California nesting dates are everywhere complicated with ques-
tions of altitude. The nest with three eggs taken by Mr. Ralph Arnold on
the 5th of May, 1895, seems to be the earliest record, and a truly remark-
able one, seeing that the migrant birds have scarcely cleared by that time,
ee VNRAT _ Mo it
Taken in Modoc County Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN TANAGER
THE SITUATION OF THE NEST IS SHOWN IN THE PRECEDING CUT
436
The Black-and-white Warbler
and many linger in more northerly localities till near the first of June.
On the other hand, I took a set of four fresh eggs from a mountain mahog-
any bush in the Warners (alt. 7800 ft.) on the 12th of July, 1912. William
Oberlin Dawson found an incomplete set of two eggs in Los Canoes Can-
yon, near Santa Barbara, on the 9th of June, 1915; but the Jays, A phelo-
coma californica, cleaned it out before we could get back to it. This
record is remarkable chiefly for having been made well within the bounds
of Upper Sonoran territory.
What the birds do with themselves after the nesting season is over
is a subject that has not been enough inquired into. The birds will not
take us with them on their leisurely mountain rambles, and our feeble
trail of inquiry all too frequently ends with the deserted nest. But I'll
confess I was surprised to find the Tanagers at Simpson Meadows, on the
Middle Fork of the Kings River, in July, assiduously haunting the vicinity
of the river itself. What they found I do not know—insects of one cer-
tain brand, perhaps; but I do know that they hawked and fluttered back
and forth across the raging torrent even more assiduously than the Soli-
taires (Myadestes townsendi). The Tanagers combined the roles of Fly-
catcher and Ouzel, for they would alight unhesitatingly upon the rocks
which cut the foaming water, even when they had to cling tightly to resist
the accompanying rush of air. Again, in the Tehipite Canyon, I saw a fly-
catching Tanager who courted the hollow of the roaring torrent where his
only rivals were a Wood Pewee and a Spotted Sandpiper,—the latter, it
must be confessed, seemingly as much out of character beside the merci-
less stream as himself.
No. 77
Black-and-white Warbler
A. O. U. No. 636. Mniotilta varia (Linnezus).
Synonyms.—TREE-CREEPING WARBLER. BLACK-AND-WHITE CREEPER.
Description.—Adult male: Chiefly black and white in streaks and stripes;
two lustrous black stripes separated by broad median white stripe on head and pro-
longed to cervix; eye-ring and superciliary stripe white; malar stripes, broadly, and
usually extreme chin white; throat, narrowly, black, or broadly with some admixture
of white; exposed tips of primaries and tertiaries and primary coverts dusky rather
than black; median and greater coverts tipped with white, broadly, and forming two
conspicuous stripes; rectrices chiefly dusky with bluish ashy skirtings on outer web;
the two outer pairs of feathers white-blotched near tip of inner web, and all narrowly
edged with white; upper tail-coverts broadly black; axillars, lining of wings, and belly
white; remaining plumage streaked black and white, broadly and sharply on breast,
sides, and flanks, narrowly on sides of neck, less sharply defined on back. Bill black;
437
The Black-and-white Warbler
feet horn-color with yellowish claws (in life). Adult male in fall and winter: Black of
throat reduced or wanting; streaking of chest and sides of neck less sharply defined.
Immature male: Like adult male, but throat white and chest more narrowly streaked.
Adult female: Similar to adult male, but smaller and duller, the streakings of under-
parts wanting or obsolescent, except on sides and flanks, where much reduced; the
whites chiefly tinged by buffy brownish, especially in malar region and on flanks.
Mandible light-colored, becoming dusky on tip. Young: Like adult female, but
lateral head-stripes ill-defined; buffy suffusion more prominent everywhere; sides
unstreaked. Length of male 114.3-139.7 (4.50-5.50); wing 68.6 (2.70); tail 48 (1.89);
bill 11.4 (.45); tarsus 17 (.67). Length of female 113.5 (4.47); wing 66 (2.60); tail
46.5 (1.83); bill 11.4 (.45); tarsus 16.8 (.66).
Recognition Marks.—Medium Warbler size; black and white in streaks and
stripes. Requires careful distinction from Black-throated Gray Warbler (Dendroica
nigrescens), which it superficially resembles, especially from a side view. Note absence
of supraloral yellow spot, and the presence of distinctive stripes on crown, and the
black-and-white-streaked back. Tree-creeping habits also distinctive.
Nesting.—Not known to breed in California. Nest: On the ground, usually
sheltered by stump, log, or projecting stone; of leaves, bark-strips, and grasses, with a
lining of fine rootlets and hairs. Eggs: 4 or 5; white or creamy white, speckled and
spotted with chestnut or umber, chiefly in wreath about the larger end. Av. size
17 x 14 (.67 x .55). Season: c.June Ist; one brood.
General Range.—North America, chiefly east of the Rocky Mountains, and
northern South America. Breeds from northern portions of the Gulf States north to
northern Ontario and central Keewatin, and west, perhaps casually, to Colorado and
Wyoming; winters from Florida and the West Indies south to Venezuela and Ecuador;
casual on the Pacific Coast and in Bermuda.
Occurrence in California.—Casual during migrations and in winter (Car-
pinteria, Jan. 9, 1920, by Dr. H. C. Henderson)—about a dozen records. McGee
Creek, Mono County, June 9, 1921, by H. W. Carriger and W. Leon Dawson, appears
to be the latest spring occurrence.
Authorities.—W. E. Bryant, Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci., 2nd ser., i., 1888, p. 48
(Farallon Ids., May 28, 1887, one spec.); Cooke, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull.,
no. 18, 1904, p. 18 (distr. and migr.); U. S. Dept. Agric. Bull., no. 185, 1915, p. 25,
figs. 15, 16, maps (distr. and migr.); Chapman, Warblers of North America, 1907,
p- 38, col. pl. (life hist., biog. ref., etc.); Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 11, 1915,
p. 144, zbid., Condor, vol. xxiv., 1922, p. 185 (Calif. occurrences).
Note.—The following works are especially recommended as source books in
the study of the American Wood Warblers. Because of their general pertinence,
detailed references are omitted henceforth from the ‘‘Authorities’’: Dzstribution and
Migration of North American Warblers, by Wells W. Cooke, U. S. Dept. of Agric., Div.
of Biol. Survey, Bulletin no. 18, Washington, 1904, pp. 1-142. The Warblers of North
America, by Frank M. Chapman, New York, D. Appleton & Co., 1907, pp. 1.-ix.
and 1-306.
THE NORTH American Wood Warblers fall naturally into two
distributional groups, the eastern and the western. So marked is this
division, and so important to an understanding of conditions in California,
that we may be pardoned if we attempt at the outset a brief reconstruc-
tion of Mnzotiltine history. Spreading from some center in the South,
438
The Black-and-white Warbler
where this family was already highly differentiated, a varied cohort
invaded the timbered territory east of the Mississippi, found congenial
conditions, and spread rapidly northward. Encountering, presumably,
the ice barrier in the Laurentian Highlands, this eastern division found
relief in a northeasterly direction, flowed across the timbered stretches of
Ontario, Manitoba, and Saskatchewan, and reached at last the eastern
Rockies of British Columbia, and the limit of trees in Mackenzie, Yukon
Territory, and Alaska.
A similar but smaller cohort, starting perhaps at the same time,
invaded the mountains of the West, proceeding slowly northward by way
of the Rocky Mountains, the Sierra-Cascades, and the continuous forests
of the Pacific slope. This western army of invasion has also reached the
limit of trees in Alaska, but it is represented there by only two forms,—
forms whose conspecific analogues of the eastern stream had long since
reached the limit of trees in Mackenzie. The eastern stream, also, has
three exclusive types already on the ground.
In the early days an effective barrier existed between the eastern
and western divisions of the Mnzotiltine army in the treeless plains west
of the Mississippi. This barrier still exists, but it is disregarded by such
eastern species as, having found a home in the British Northwest, now
cut “‘cross-lots” in going to and from their winter quarters, instead of
returning by the Mackenzie-Ontario-Atlantic route originally traversed.
It is worthy of remark, however, that the great majority of such northern
residents still return by the old route. Ina similar way, we may suppose
that the western pioneers were originally separated by the Great Basin;
but having passed beyond it, and becoming now reunited in the North,
they have learned to traverse it unfearingly in their annual flights.
Disregarding for the present the recent or the non-aggressive types,
eight in number, such as Vermivora lucie and Peucedramus olivaceus, which
are confined to our southern latitudes, there are in the West only eleven
species. Of these, five, presumably the oldest, that is, the first to enter
this territory, are peculiar to the West. But of these, in turn, one, and
that the dominant warbler of the West, D. audubont, while specifically
distinct, is yet so closely related to the dominant bird of the North (east-
ern division), D. coronata, that it forms a connecting link with the sec-
ond grand ethnological division of western warblers, viz., those which
are subspecifically related to eastern forms. For instance, the Yellow
Warbler (D. e@stiva subsp.), aggressive, dominant, has penetrated Alaska
both by way of the East and of the West; but in the days of separation,
slight differentiations have arisen within the species, not only between
the eastern and western birds, but in the West itself as between the more
aggressive northern birds and the more indolent south-keeping birds.
The Tennessee Warbler
With these rough generalizations in mind by way of guidance, it
must be remembered always that neither warblers nor any other birds ever
actually invaded a country en masse, and that each species, therefore, has
a perfectly independent history of its own. And it goes without saying
that the history of the species is simply the combined record of individual
birds, birds which, precisely in so far as they are 7ndividual, make history.
A few individuals, a score perhaps, of the species Mnzotilta varia have
gone far toward making Mnzotiltine history, in that they have allowed
themselves to be taken within the limits of California. These occur-
rences serve to remind us that those eastern species which, in their age-
long northwesterly gropings, have reached, or nearly reached, the eastern
base of the Rocky Mountains, are likely to send down scouts, pioneers,
accidentals, waifs—call them what you will—in search of a nearer passage
to Panama than that afforded by the ancestral route. So far as the
individual is concerned, these aberrations may represent any one of sev-
eral happy (or unhappy) accidents: local associations with western
migrants upon the breeding grounds; the failure of the migratory instinct;
the superiority of the general sense of direction over the urge of the ances-
tral memory ;—however it may come to pass, the economical purposes of
nature will be subserved, and we shall see more and more of these north-
western-reared “‘eastern”’ birds taking the short cut to Mexico, precisely as
their remote ancestors did across the, till then, forbidden ‘‘Great Plains.”
There have been, I believe, increasingly frequent repetitions of
Black-and-white Warbler records of late, so that it is, perhaps, not too
much to say that this species has become the commonest of the so-called
“accidentals.’’ We may look forward with some degree of confidence to
seeing it establish itself as a regular migrant.
No. 78
Tennessee Warbler
A. O. U. No. 647. Vermivora peregrina (\Vilson).
Description.—Adult male in spring and summer: Pileum and_ hind-neck,
broadly, bluish ash (deep grayish olive), faintly glanced with warbler green; remaining
upperparts bright warbler green; flight-feathers and tail dusky, the primaries narrowly
edged with whitish, a whitish blotch (or not) on tip of inner web of outermost pair
of rectrices; an obscure superciliary line whitish; a line through eye olive-gray; under-
parts, shading on sides of head and neck, dull white, more or less tinged with yellowish;
flanks clearer yellow. Bill and feet horn-color. Adult male in fall and winter: Upper-
440
The Tennessee Warbler
parts entirely overlaid with warbler green; underparts sordid yellow (pyrite yellow),
shading on sides. Adult female: Similar to adult male, but duller, more sordid,
below. In fall and winter correspondingly deeper-toned throughout, sometimes
actually dusky on belly. Length of adult male (skins) about 112 (4.41); wing 65
(2.56); tail 42 (1.65); bill 9.6 (.38); tarsus 16.8 (.66). Females average a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—‘‘Warbler”’ size; a difficult ‘‘warbler green’’ nondescript.
May be distinguished with certainty from the V. celata type in spring only, when the
gray crown, whitish underparts, and whitish superciliary stripe may be noted. In
fall, note the more sordid, less yellow, underparts, and the usual presence of a super-
ciliary line, now yellowish. Smaller than V. celata.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: Low in bushes, or on the
ground sunk in moss or crowding vegetation at base of small tree; of weed-fibers,
grass, etc., lined with hair. Eggs: 4 to 7, usually 6; white, speckled and wreathed
with dull reddish brown and vinaceous gray. A typical set averages 16.3 x II.9
(.64 x .47). Season: June; one brood.
General Range.—Eastern and northern North America. Breeds in Canadian
zone from upper Yukon valley and southern Mackenzie south to southern British
Columbia, and east to the Atlantic Coast, including northern New York and New
England; winters from Oaxaca to Colombia and Venezuela; migrates chiefly through
the Mississippi and eastward with diminishing frequency to the Atlantic seaboard;
rare in Cuba and Florida; accidental in California.
Occurrence in California.—One record: Pasadena, Sept. 27, 1897, by Joseph
Grinnell.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Pasadena Acad. Sci. Pub., no. 2, 1898, p. 45 (Pasadena,
Sept. 27, 1897; one spec.); Norris, Auk, vol. xix., 1902, p. 88 (desc. habits, nest and eggs;
British Columbia).
ALTHOUGH RATED only “accidental in California” on the basis
of a single specimen taken by Mr. Grinnell at Pasadena (Sept. 27th,
1897), we cannot help wondering whether the fault has not been rather
one of non-recognition on our part than non-occurrence. The Tennessee
Warbler breeds in the central mountains of British Columbia; and while
it is undoubtedly true that the bulk of the migrants in quitting the Colum-
bian Rockies and the Upper Yukon Valley take a sharp southeasterly
course to rejoin their fellows from Keewatin and Ungava, it would be
passing strange if there were not a certain proportion deflected by the
western route. The bird is of that non-committal type with which our
thickets are already so well provided; and since it is also somewhat secre-
tive in habit, it might easily pass unnoticed among the throngs of our
western migrants.
Wilson first found this bird on the banks of the Cumberland in Ten-
nessee, and promptly named it after their common hostess. Both Wilson
and Audubon regarded it as extremely rare, the former having seen but
two specimens, and the latter three. Inasmuch as it is now considered
one of the common migrants of the Mississippi Valley, one scarcely knows
441
The Orange-crowned Warblers
whether to indulge a chuckle at the expense of those early heroes, or to
concede that the bird has enormously increased.
No. 79
Orange-crowned Warbler
A. O. U. No. 646. Vermivora celata celata (Say).
Description.—Adult male: Above warbler green over grayish olive,—brighter,
clearer yellow, on rump and upper tail-coverts; duller, more grayish, on crown and hind-
neck; a crown-patch of “orange’’ (sudan brown) feathers more or less concealed by
olive tips; wings and tail fuscous with greenish skirtings, the outermost primaries
edged with white; eyelids whitish or yellowish, separated both anteriorly and pos-
teriorly by wedges of dusky; underparts yellow, often with streaky irruptions of pale
olive-gray (the resultant blend nearly pyrite yellow); the yellow clearest on axillaries,
wing-linings, and under tail-coverts; dullest and grayest on throat and sides of neck.
Bill and feet horn-color. In fall and winter, plumage “‘softer’’; crown-patch con-
cealed or wanting. Adult female: Similar to male, but possibly duller, with crown-
patch restricted or wanting. Young, first plumage: ‘‘Above dull olive, or grayish
olive, becoming more olive greenish or russet olive on rump and upper tail-coverts;
middle and greater wing-coverts tipped, more or less distinctly, with pale olive or dull
buffy; throat, chest, sides of breast, sides, and flanks pale brownish gray, tinged with
dull buffy, especially on chest; abdomen white; otherwise like adults, but without
trace of tawny-ochraceous on crown”’ (Ridgway). Length of adult male (skins) about
117 (4.61); wing 61.4 (2.42); tail 49.2 (1.94); bill 9.8 (.386); tarsus 17.7 (.70).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; warbler green above, yellow below; blend-
ed pattern of color difficult to distinguish from the rare Tennessee Warbler (V. pere-
grint). Larger and much duller yellow than the Pileolated Warblers (Wilsonia pile-
olata group); duller, more olivaceous, than the Dendroica e@stiva group. Orange
crown-patch, of course, distinctive of species. Duller than V. c. lutescens; lighter than
V. c. sordida.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. For description see under V. c-
lutescens.
Range of Vermivora celata——North America, breeding in the mountainous
states of the West and in British America; wintering in southern United States,
south to Guatemala.
Range of V. c. celata—Breeding in Canada centrally and northwesterly and in
Alaska to the limit of trees. Apparently rare as a breeder anywhere east of the long-
itude of Hudson Bay; migrates chiefly through the Mississippi Valley and eastward
in diminishing numbers to the Atlantic seaboard; winters in the South Atlantic and
Gulf States, the southwestern states and in Mexico.
Occurrence in California.—Not common winter resident in southern Cali-
fornia; many records; migrant elsewhere.
Authorities.—Swarth (Helminthophila celata), Condor, vol. iii., 1901, pp.
17, 145 (Los Angeles); Cowes, Birds Col. Val., 1878, p. 226 (desc., nest, eggs, etc.);
Oberholser, Auk, vol. xxii., 1905, p. 242 (distr., desc., crit.); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub.
Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p. 194 (Colorado Valley).
442
The Orange-crowned Warblers
whether to indulge a chuckle at the expense of those early heroes, or to
concede that the bird has enormously increased.
: No. 79
ae oa
A Orange-crowned Warbler a
SS A, O. U. No. 646. Vermnivora celata celata (Say).
Description.— Adult male: Above warbler green over grayish olive,—brighter,
clearer yellow, on rump and upper tail-coverts; duller, more grayish, on crown and hind-
neck; a crown-patch of “orange’’ (sudan brown) feathers more or less concealed by
olive tips; wings and tail fuscous with greenish skirtings, the outermost primaries
edged with white; eyelids whitish or yellowish, separated both anteriorly and pos- :
teriorly by wedges of dusky; underparts yellow, often with streaky irruptions of pale eS
we olive-gray (the resultant blend nearly pyrite yellow); the yellow clearest on axillaries, bs
wing-linings, and under tail-coverts; dullest and grayest on throat and sides of neck.
Bill and feet horn-color. In fall and winter, plumage “softer”; crown-patch con-
cealed or wanting. Aduli female; Similar to male, but possibly duller, with crown- ~
patch restricted or wanting. Young, jivst phomage: “Above dull olive, or grayish
olive, becoming more olive greenish or russet olive on sump and upper tail-coverts;
middle and greater wing coverts tipped, more or fess distinctly, with pale olive or dull
buffy; throat, chest, sides of breast, sides, and flanks pale brownish gray, tinged with
dull buffy, especialiy on chest; abdomen white; otherwise like adults, but without
trace of tawny-ochraceous on crown’’ (Ridgway). Length of adult male (skins) about
117 (4.61); wing 61.4 (2.42); tail 49.2 (1.94); bill 9.8 (.386); tarsus 17.7 (.70)-
Recognition \-Group of California: Warblers: yellow below; blend-
ed pattern of color difficult t tinguish the r ennessee Warbler (V. pere-
27int). Deters and See df ced to afer ot rison af yel Ce! Warblers (Wilsonia pile-
olata group); duller, more olivacAbout 58, life, size po ycivoico esta group. Orange
crown-patch, of course, distinctive of species. Duller than V. c. dutescens; lighter than - BAL
V. ¢. sordida. i
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. For description see under V. c
lutescens,
Range of Vermivora celata——North America, breeding in the mountainous
states of the West and in British America; wintering in southern United States, ~ -
south to Guatemala. S
Range of V. c. celuta._-Breeding in Canada centrally and northwesterly and in ae
Alaska to the limit of trees. Apparently rare as a breeder anywhere east of the long-
itude of Hudson Bay; migrates chiefly through the Mississippi Valley and eastward
in diminishing numbers to the Atlantic cen winters in the South Atlantic and
A Gulf States, the southwestern “Cal: Yellow Wa Peg? fale ;
Occurrence in Calif M 1 ee 19h winter resident in southern Cake
fornia; many records; migrant axel llow War eae
AorhoriDennessee Warblers female),....),.), Calaveras Warbler, malej) joo). pp.
i7, 145 (Los Angeles); Cowes, Birds (utesvent, Warbler) male) (desc., nest, eggs, etc.);
Obovsoses, Suk vol xxii, iGolden (Pileolated))., Warbler male 77 7<!/, Univ. Calif. Pub.
Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p. 194 (Colorado Valley). omiers Wanblerefenale
442 Tule Yellow-throat, female
The Orange-crowned Warblers
No. 792 Luteoline Warbler
A. O. U. No. 646a, part. Vermivora celata orestera Oberholser.
Note.—In his original description of this form (Auk, xxii., July, 1905, pp.
243-245), Oberholser did not assign a vernacular name, and I propose the more dis-
tinctive term Luteoline (from the Latin /uteolus, yellowish), in place of the cumbrous
“Rocky Mountain Orange-crowned Warbler’ used by Grinnell and others. The name
has not only the advantage of accuracy, but of family resemblance to the related
form, V. c. lutescens. The word lutescens, by the way, although understood to mean
“becoming yellow,” is probably derived from /utum, mud, luteus, muddy, instead of
lutum, or lutewm, yellow weed. Hence, lutescens means’’ becoming muddy,’’ a term
rather more applicable to sordida than to the Lutescent Warbler. But, anyway, all
the celatas are muddy yellow, and the names will stick on either count.
Description.— Described by Oberholser as an intermediate type, larger and
more yellow than V. c. celata, duller, less yellow, and also larger than V. c. lutescens.
Measurements of males (Oberholser): wing 63.5 (2.50); tail 50.5 (1.99); bill 10.2 (.40);
tarsus 18.3 (.72).
Nesting.— Much as in next form.
Range of V. c. orestera——The Rocky Mountain and intra-mountain areas,
breeding from New Mexico and Arizona (Mt. Graham) west to eastern California,
and north to the mountains of eastern British Columbia and western Alberta; prob-
ably passes entirely south of the United States in winter.
Distribution in California.—Definitely recorded in summer only from the
Panamint and Argus Ranges, and the White Mountains of eastern California. Other
east-side birds are apparently intergrades between orvestera and lutescens.
Authorities.—Oberholser, Auk, vol. xxii., 1905, p. 243 (orig. desc.; specimens
from the Argus Range, Panamint Mts., and Olancha Peak); Grinnell, Pac. Coast
Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p. 146, in text (status in Calif.) ; 7bid., Condor, vol. xxi., 1919,
p. 42.
IMMIGRANT children sometimes arrive at Ellis Island with their
names and destinations pinned conspicuously upon their breasts. It is
not altogether otherwise with our migrant birds, for by closely examining
their marks of identification we may tell where they hail from and whither
they are bound. The subtle differences between V. celata and V. celata
lutescens may not interest the general public, but by these marks we
know that the Orange-crowned Warblers, which are found in winter
in southern California, and especially in the Colorado River Valley,
hail from Alberta and Alaska, east of the Rockies; whereas our own
Lutescents, as common as grass throughout the State in summer, absent
themselves altogether in winter.
No. 79b Lutescent Warbler
A. OU. No. 646a. Vermivora celata lutescens (Ridgway).
Description.—Similar to V. c. celata, but brighter and more yellow throughout;
upperparts bright warbler green; underparts between pyrite yellow and lemon yellow.
Young said to be considerably different,—more olive greenish; abdomen yellow, not
white. Length: wing 59.8 (2.35): tail 47 (1.85); bill 9.9 (.39); tarsus 17.6 (.70).
443
The Orange-crowned Warblers
Nesting.— Nest: On the ground, usually on partially shaded hillside, and
often recessed in bank; of weeds, moss, and woodland waste, lined with dried grasses
and horsehair. Eggs: 4 or 5; white, heavily speckled, chiefly about larger end,
with dull reddish brown. Av. size: 15.8 x 11.9 (.62 x .47); index, 76. Season: April
—June; two broods.
Range of V. c. lutescens—Summer resident in the Pacific Coast district of
North America, broadly defined, and occasionally spilling over upon the eastern
slopes of the main ranges in Oregon, Washington, etc.; breeding from the mountains
of southern California north (at least) to the Kenai Peninsula; south in winter beyond
the border of the United States to Guatemala.
Distribution in California.—Early spring migrant and summer resident west
of the Sierran divide; breeding in semi-wooded areas of the Upper Sonoran and Tran-
sition zones; also common east of the Sierras northerly, where inclining toward orestera;
apparently passes entirely beyond the State in winter.
Authorities.—Gambel (Vermivora celata), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., iii.,
1847, p. 155, part (Calif.); Finley, Condor, vol. vi., 1904, p. 131, figs. (nesting habits,
nests and eggs; photos of adults, young and nest); Oberholser, Auk, vol. xxii., 1905,
p- 245 (distr., desc., meas., crit.); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 30,
1907, p. 51 part (food).
THE NAME “Warbler” as applied to the American family Mniotil-
lide is rather a misnomer. Originally applied to the Old World Sylvtide,
the word becomes intel-
ligible with us only by
Ha ie bomen Eats ees
oo NNood.” Of the sixteen
genera of American
Wood Warblers now
recognized by our
A.O.U. Committee, only
two, Sezurus (the Water-
Thrushes) and IJcteria
(the Chat), are conspic-
uous in song. The rest
all have characteristic
utterances, technically
called songs, but they sel-
dom achieve the dignity
or suggested sweetness
of “warblers.’”’ These
“songs”? are, rather, in
every case, a conven-
tionalized phrase, a
NEST AND EGGS OF LUTESCENT WARBLER crystallized and _ stereo-
444
The Orange-crowned Warblers
typed publication of presence, declaration of love, and all-
purpose medium. These phrases, or song-cries, are
specifically characteristic in form, quality, and em-
phasis, but they are so tiny, and so high removed
from the human plane, that their successful identi-
fication offers the severest test of the discrimination
and the enthusiasm of the bird-student. Quaint,
queer, bizarre, rather than tuneful, these tiny |
offerings, nevertheless, afford the keenest delight
to the critical ear of the seasoned amateur.
The song of the Lutescent Warbler
appears to have been very largely
overlooked, but it was not the bird’s _ ,/
fault. While waiting for his tardy £
mate, he has been rehearsing dili-
gently from the taller bushes of the
thicket, or else from some higher vantage ©
point of poplar, sycamore or ceanothus.
The burden is intended for fairy ears, but
he that hath ears to hear let him hear a
curious vowel scale, an inspirated rattle or
trill, which descends and ends in a simple
twitter of several notes. The trill, brief as iene
it is, has three qualities of change which George Care
make it quite unique. At the opening the
notes are full and slow, but in the instant
necessary to the entire recital the pace ac-
celerates, the pitch rises slightly, and the
component notes decrease in volume, or
size. At the climax the tension breaks
unexpectedly in the gentle, musical
Taken in
O ae A HUNGRY CHIPMUNK
cadence of the concluding phrases, THIS LITTLE DEAR, WHOM THE SCIENTISTS CALL Eutamias
Spectosus speciosus, IS AN ‘‘ADVANCED’’ OOLOGIST
whose notes much resemble certain
of the Yellow Warbler’s. The opening trill carries to a considerable dis-
tance, but the sweetness of the closing warble is lost to any but near
listeners. The whole may be rendered graphically somewhat as follows:
O-0-a-a-t-1-€-é-€-é-€-€ wichy, wichy, wichy.
In the brush and under alarm these birds utter a brusque, metallic
scolding note, which is perfectly distinctive locally, although it much
resembles that of the Oporornis group East. By this mark alone may the
mere yellowish female be certainly discerned.
Yellow appears to be the prevailing color among our western Wood
445
Taken in Oregon
The Orange-crowned Warblers
Warblers; and even of those which are not frankly all-over yellow, as
this one is, there are only two which do not boast a conspicuous area of
this fashionable shade. And of all yellows, yellow-green, as represented
by the back of this bird, is the commonest,—so common, indeed, as to
merit the facetious epithet ‘“‘museum color.” It is all very well in the
case of the male, for he enters the State from the south during the first
week in March, before other birds are moving very much; and he is so
full of confidence at this season that he poses quite demurely among the
swelling buds of willow and ceanothus, or in the more difficult tops of
live oaks.
He is proud of his full
crown-patch of pale
orange, contrasting as it
does with the dull yel-
lowish green of the
upperparts and the
bright greenish yellow
of the underparts,—and
he lets you get a good
view of it at twenty
yards, with the glasses.
Besides that, he must
stop now and then to
vent his feelings in song.
But the case of the fe-
male is almost hopeless
—for the novice.
Lutescent Warblers
Photo by Bohlman & Finley
A HUNGRY CHICK abound in summer in
LUTESCENT WARBLER, FEMALE AND YOUNG . .
timbered sections nearly
throughout the State, although south of the Tehachipi they are not
regularly found breeding below the upper mountain levels. Jungle of
any kind suits them, whether it be a thicket of young firs at Weaverville,
an overgrown burn in the Sierra National Forest, a willow swamp in Modoc
County, or a fern bank in a Santa Barbara canyon. It is, therefore,
unquestionably the most abundant and most uniformly distributed Wood
Warbler in California. Nests of this species are of dead grasses well
knitted, and sunk flush with the ground, or below it, in some moss bed,
at the base of a bush, or on some sloping hillside. Rarely the structure
may be taken up into a bush. The female is a close sitter, but once
flushed shows implacable resentment. She summons her mate to assist
in the gentle art of exorcism, or else turns the tables and deserts outright.
446
”
| The Orange-crowned Warblers
Warblers; and even of those which are not frankly all-over yellow, as
oe : this one is, there are only two which do not boast a conspicuous area of
eee ’ this fashionable shade. And of all yellows, yellow-green, as represented ;
by the back of this bird, is the commonest,—-so common, indeed, as to a
merit the facetious epithet ‘‘museum color.” It is all very well in the #
case of the male, for he enters the State from the south during the first ee
week in March, before other birds are moving very much; and he is so oO
full of confidence at this season that he poses quite demurely among the ae
swelling buds of willow and ceanothus, or in the more difficult tops of ;
live oaks.
He is proud of his full
crown-patch of pale
orange, contrasting as it
does with the dull yel-
lowish. green of the
upperparts and the
bright greenish yellow
of the underparts,—and =
he lets you get-a good
view of it at twenty
yards, with the glasses.
Besides that, he must
stop now and then to 5
vent his feelings in song. ee:
But the case of the fe-
male is almost hopeless
—for the novice.
Taken in Oregon Photo by Boklman & Finley Lutescent Warblers
A HUNGRY CHICK abound in summer in
LATPESCENT WARBLER, FEMALE AND YOUNG timbered sections nearly
throughout the State, although south of the Tehachipi they are not
regularly found breeding-below the upper-mountain levels. Jungle of
any kind suits them, whether it be a thicket of young firs at Weaverville,
an overgrown burn in the Sierra National Forest, a willow swamp in Modoc Le
County, or a fern bank in a Santa Barbara canyon. It is, therefore, ~
jinquestionably the most abundant and most uniformly distributed Wood
Warbler in California. Nests of this species are of dead grasses well
knitted, and sunk flush with the ground, or below it, in some moss bed,
at the base of a bush, or on some sloping hillside. Rarely the structure ~
may be taken up into a bush. The female is a close sitter, but once
flushed shows inyplacable resentment. She summons her mate to assist
in the gentle art of exorcism, or else turns the tables and deserts outright.
4ge
The Orange-crowned Warblers
The latter, you understand, is quite the subtlest and most baffling form
of revenge which a bird may compass in the case of an odlogist anxious to
identify his find.
No. 79¢ Dusky Warbler
A. O. U. No. 646b. Vermivora celata sordida (C. H. Townsend).
Description.—Similar to V. celata lutescens, but decidedly darker; upperparts
olive-green; underparts warbler green, or lightening to pyrite yellow on belly and
under tail-coverts. Also bill and feet larger. Av. of 10 males in M. V. Z. colls:
Length 120.4 (4.74); wing 59.9 (2.36); tail 53.3 (2.10); bill 11.3 (.445); tarsus 18.5 (.73).
Recognition Marks.—See those of species. Easily distinguishable afield by
dusky coloration.
Nesting.—Much as in preceding form, save that nests are occasionally placed
well up in trees. A set in the M. C. O. coll. averages 15.9 x 13.3 (.625 x .525); index 84.
Range of V. c. sordida.——Spring and early summer resident upon the Santa
Barbara Islands, off the coast of southern California, Los Coronados and Todos Santos
Islands of Lower California, and a few adjacent portions of the mainland; spending
the remainder of the year chiefly (but not exclusively) upon the neighboring mainland.
Distribution in California.—Partially resident and common spring and summer
resident upon all the islands of the Santa Barbara group, except San Nicholas; found
breeding also upon Pt. Loma and at Coronado Beach; winters chiefly upon the main-
land coastwise, or to the summits of the neighboring ranges; has wandered north in
winter as far as Palo Alto (Grinnell), Haywards (Emerson), and Berkeley (Grinnell).
Authorities —Gambel (Vermivora celata), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser.
2, i., 1847, p. 37 (Santa Catalina Id.; song); Oberholser, Auk, vol. xxii., 1905, p. 245
(desc.; crit.); Wullett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 95 (occurrence in s. Calif.);
Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p. 146 (status in Calif.); Howell, Pac.
Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 90 (distr., habits, nest and eggs, etc.).
IF WE CALL the Lutescent Warbler ‘“‘yellow,’’ we must call the
Dusky Warbler “green,” and this we hasten to do, because green
is Nature’s color. But green must not be understood in too harsh a
sense. There is just enough of redeeming yellow in birdikin’s plumage
to represent the play of sunlight on oak-leaves or on grass; while as for
the “dusky” element, no one who has ever tried to trace the movements
of a self-conscious female Dusky Warbler over a shaded hillside will
ever doubt its efficacy as an extinguisher. Never was a fairy in a wishing-
cap more difficult to follow.
For those who know the Channel Islands, the Dusky Warbler best
embodies those rioting greens of springtime which make these charmed
spots live in memory; and of all island sounds it is the cheerful, varied,
all-prevailing trill of the Dusky Warbler which first suggests itself to
recollection. Every hillside which boasts a modicum of shade is alive
447
The Orange-crowned Warblers
with them; and because of their unceasing efforts in song one gets a
rather better impression of the abundance of bird life on the Channel
Islands than the facts strictly warrant. Sordida is, of course, a localized
race of the V. celata type. That it should be a “saturated” form, follow-
ing the analogy of the Island Horned Lark, Otocoris alpestris insularis,
seems a little surprising, even to those who know island conditions best.
To be sure, moisture is abundant and fogs fairly prevalent in season; but
Renter Ie
Taken on Santa Cruz Island Photo by the Author
A NESTING HAUNT OF THE DUSKY WARBLER
448
so, too, are bright days
and open places, inso-
much that the Islands
are rated Up pier
Sonoran.”’
Perhaps it is only
imagination on the
writer’s part, and_ per-
haps it is lack of im-
mediate competition in
song; but I have fancied
that the vocal efforts of
V. c. sordida are more
varied than are those of
the mainland type; and
this, although the
changing pitch and the
ventriloquial quality
which characterize the
northern bird are less
conspicuous. ‘The trill
in sordida is rapid and
slightly accelerated; but
the notes are more open
and uniform. The
units, too, are so dis-
tinct as to simulate the
Wilsonia pileolata type
of song; and they some-
times require careful dis-
crimination. The rendi-
tion of a ‘“‘song’’ occupies
only a fraction over a sec-
ond, but a good deal can
happen in an avian sec-
The Orange-crowned Warblers
ond. Anyhow, these momentary offerings are the very life of Santa Cruz
and Santa Catalina,—and of all the other saints whose good fortune it
is to be entirely surrounded by water.
Anybody can find a bird’s nest by accident—a cow might—but the
achievement of discovering a Dusky Warbler’s nest always flatters the
hunter’s vanity. The bird has risen silently from the ground, and less
visibly than a fluttering leaf. When twenty or thirty feet removed,
A NESTING SITE OF THE DUSKY WARBLER
THERE IS A NEST WITH FOUR EGGS SOMEWHERE ON THE GROUND BEFORE YOU, BUT NOT EVEN THE PHOTOGRAPHER
REMEMBERS THE EXACT LOCATION
a sharp “chip” breaks out, and by this token alone can you follow the
earlier movements of excited revolutions in the treetops. Presently, the
bird, long cramped on the nest, bethinks herself of her toilet, pauses
to stretch and preen and ruffle, never omitting dutiful chips the while.
Then, if you are well “‘frozen’’ and not by accident foo near the nest,
the bird begins a slow and, to you, a very painful return. A crackling
twig, a waving hand, a suspicion even, sends her off to begin all over
again. Maddening pauses ensue. Will the creature never move? Yes;
a little nearer, a little lower. Presently you suspect the particular bush
she has her eye upon. Long she hesitates to pass from tree to bush.
449
The Orange-crowned Warblers
Half a dozen times she feints,
maybe. Finally the fatal
plunge is taken. Down,
down the bush she crawls,
reluctant. Then, level with
the grass-tops, she darts to
a spot on the ground—and
there is silence. But keep
your eye on that particular
spot, or you will scarcely note
the flit of exit, once you are
in motion. The whole game
has been a mutual agony of
apprehension; and whether
your heart goes pit-a-pat or
not when the authentic loca-
tion is made, depends upon
your ‘‘sporting blood.” The
owner of the nest here shown
feinted five times after reach-
ing the bush, and though her
exit was marked, the nest it-
self was absolutely invisible at
a foot’s remove, by reason of
investing foliage.
The reason of our compar-
ative failure in the spring of
1915 to find nests of the
Dusky Warbler, was revealed
several seasons later by Mr.
M.C. Badger, of Santa Paula,
who reported that he had
found them nesting zn trees. With this friendly tip, succeeding expedi-
tions sent out by the Museum of Comparative Odlogy have been more
successful. The Dusky Warbler, evidently to escape the persecutions
alike of sheep and of foxes, have taken to nesting in the live oak trees
almost exclusively, and very wonderful nests they make, too, especially
those which are nearly buried in oak blossoms.
For some reason the Dusky Warbler tires of island life and brings
her brood to the mainland shores in late July or early August, there to
remain until the following February or March. We do not know the
precise extent of this winter range, nor do we know the precise length of
450
PAG
Taken on Santa Cruz Island Photo by the Author
A WAYSIDE STATION
The Orange-crowned Warbiers
Half a dozen times she feints,
maybe. Finally the fatal
olunge is taken. Down,
down the bush she crawls,
feluctant. Then, level with
the grass-tops, she darts to
a spot on the ground—and
there is silence. But keep
your eye on that particular
spot, or you will scarcely note
the flit of exit, once you are
in motion. The whole game
has been a mutual agony of
apprehension; and whether
your heart goes pit-a-pat or
ot when the authenticloca-
n is made, depends upon
snorting blood.” The
“here shown
j we times alter reach-
ine the bush, and though her
exit was marked, the nest it-
self was absolutely invisible at
a foot's remove, by reason of
investing foliage.
The reason of our compar-
ative failure in the spring of
1915 to find nests of the
Dusky Warbler, was rev ealed
several seasons later by Mr.
M. C. Badger, of Santa Paula,
who reported that he had
sadly tip, succeeding expedi-
ive oaks have been more
ape the persecutions
- in the live oalc trees
- ypale. too, especially
4
sneust, there to
s got know the
precise length of
4 brings
The Calaveras Warbler
the island stay (some birds stay there all the time). I venture the guess
that some Dusky Warblers, which have been successful with the early
nesting, come ashore as early as late April (we have found nests with
young on Santa Cruz as early as April 6th). What becomes of these early,
dark rémigrés we do not know, for undoubtedly the only breeders of the
Santa Barbara mainland are of the lutescens type.
The winter residence of this species is probably quite as definitely
localized as is that of the breeding season. I have watched birds month
after month at Los Colibris which I felt reasonably sure must be the same.
This is shaky “‘science,”’ but the author offers no apologies for the lack of
shot-gun testimony. One may take toll of the migrant hosts on occasion
—some are bound to fall by the wayside anyhow—and there will be no
vacancies to reproach us; but resident birds become in so far forth person-
alized, that we hesitate to disarrange the established order of things.
The shot-gun is all too rude a questioner. The bird himself could tell
us if we would only learn his language.
No. 80
Calaveras Warbler
A. O. U. No. 645a. Vermivora ruficapilla gutturalis (Ridgway).
Description.—Adult male: Head above and on sides, broadly, neutral gray;
a broad crown-patch of chestnut veiled anteriorly by gray tips of feathers; eye-ring
white; remaining upperparts warbler green, clearing and brightening on rump and
upper tail-coverts; abdomen narrowly white; remaining underparts bright yellow
(lemon-chrome). Bill and feet horn-color. Adult female: Like male, but somewhat
duller; gray of head less pure, glossed with olivaceous; chestnut of crown reduced or
wanting; flanks and thighs tinged with buffy (sordid chamois). Immature: Like
adults, but without crown-patch; head and neck on sides deep grayish olive, shading
on back into warbler green, and on sides into olive ochraceous and sordid buff; yellow
of underparts clearing on breast and crissum, elsewhere shading into buffy and ochra-
ceous. Ay. of 10 males in Museum of Vertebrate Zodlogy: length (skins) 109.4
(4.31); wing 59.4 (2.34); tail 57.8 (2.275); bill 10.8 (.425); tarsus 17-1 (.67). Females
average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Smaller; bright yellow of throat (and underparts) con-
trasting with gray of head distinctive.
Nesting.— Nest: Usually sunk well into ground or moss at base of bush-
clump or rank herbage; well made of fine bark-strips and grasses, lined with finer
grasses, horsehair and, occasionally, feathers; outside, 3 in. wide by 2 in. deep; inside
134 wide by 14 deep. Eggs: 3 to5, usually 4; dull white as to ground color, but show-
ing two distinct types of markings: one heavily sprinkled with fine dots of reddish brown,
nearly uniform in distribution, or gathered more thickly about larger end; the other
sparingly dotted, and with large blotches or ‘‘flowers’’ of the same pigment. Av.
size 16.3 x 12.5 (.64 x .49). Season: May 20-July 20, according to altitude; two
broods.
451
The Calaveras Warbler
Range of Vermivora ruficapilla.— North America, breeding north to the Great
Slave Lake, wintering south to Guatemala.
Range of V. 7. gutturalis—Pacific Coast region, breeding in Transition zone
from southern British Columbia and Idaho south to central California, wintering
south to Cape San Lucas and Mexico, and occurring eastward during migrations to
southeastern Texas.
Range in California.—Common summer resident in Transition zone from the
Greenhorn Mountains in Kern County (Grinnell), north on the west slopes of the
Sierras to Shasta, in the Warner Mountains and in the coastal ranges south at least
to Mt. Sanhedrin. Also common migrant interiorly, and coastwise west at least to
Santa Barbara.
Authorities.—Baird (Helminthophaga ruficapilla), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.,
ix., 1858, p. 923 (Ft. Tejon); Osgood, Nidologist, vol. iii., 1896, p. 140 (Sierra Nevada;
nest and eggs); Barlow, Condor, vol. i1i., 1901, p. 175, fig. (Sierra Nevada; occurrence,
habits, nest and eggs); McAtee, Auk, vol. xxx., 1913, p. 155 (Angeles Nat. Forest;
killed by poison placed in sapsucker holes).
THERE is something distinct and well-bred about this demure
exquisite, and the day which discovers one of them searching the willow
tops, with genteel aloofness, is sure to be underscored in the note-book.
The marks of the spring male are as unmistakable as they are regal; a
bright yellow breast and throat contrasting with the ashy of cheeks and
head, the latter shade relieved by a white eye-ring, and surmounted by a
chestnut crown-patch. If you stumble upon a company of them at play
among the thorn bushes, you are seized as likely as not with a sense of low
birth, and feel like retiring in confusion lest you offend royalty.
These gentle despots are bound for the mountains, and since their
realms are not prepared for them till late May or early June, they have
ample leisure to discuss the fare of wayside stations. Entering the State
from the southeast about the middle of March, the early migrants prob-
ably follow the Colorado River, or else tarry for a few days in its friendly
woods, before setting out across the desert, whether for the Santa Rosa
and San Bernardino Mountains or for the Sierra foothills. The main
migratory stream in its northward progress keeps to the Sierras, insomuch
that records from the coast ranges are rare. In the great wave which
inundated the Santa Barbara coast, however, in the spring of 1912,
Calaveras Warblers were a constant element; and I have a specimen
taken on the Santa Ynez Range, April 29th, 1913.
As the season advances the Calaveras Warblers take up quarters on
brushy mountain sides, or in the deciduous skirts of fierce mountain
torrents. Here, while the female skurries about through the buck brush
or ‘‘mountain misery”’ in search of a suitable nesting site, the male mounts
a pine tree and occupies himself with song. If you are spying on this
sacred function, the bird first peers down at you uneasily, then throws
452
his head back and sings
with great animation:
choopy, choopy, choopy,
churr (tr). The trill is
composed of a dozen or
so of large notes which
the ear can easily dis-
tinguish, but which, be-
cause of the vivacious
utterance, one cannot
quite count. The song
has something of the
sharp, wiry quality of
the Yellow Warbler’s.
A male heard at Ka-
nawyers was actually
confusing by reason of
the quality; tsewrck,
tsewick, tsewick, tse, tse,
tse, or it’ sick, at’sick, 1t'-
sick, it'se keee. This
bird moved about rest-
lessly in a tall fir tree
as he sang, and he had
to deliver himself of this
message, or challenge, or
declaration of love, once
every twenty seconds.
While the female is
sitting upon a neatly
turned nest, sunk flush
with the ground at the
base of some small sap-
ling or bush clump, the
The Calaveras Warbler
Taken in Fresno County Photo by the Author
ARE BIRDS AWARE?
male takes good care not to be seen in the immediate neighborhood. His
voice is so penetrating that it may distill a sufficient consolation for the
brooding mate from any one of a dozen stations a hundred yards away.
The finding of a nest, therefore, is a matter of accident rather than atten-
tion; or, if you insist upon inspecting the whole hillside on hands and knees,
you must be prepared to count a nest of the Calaveras Warbler’s close
associates, the Tolmie Warbler, the Spurred Towhee, or the Sierra Junco,
a sufficient reward.
453
The Calaveras Warbler
Taken in the Tehipite Valley Photo by the Author
A SUMMER HOME OF THE CALAVERAS WARBLER
The female Calaveras sits very tight, but when once dislodged she
instantly disappears; and she returns, if at all, only after the lapse of a
tedious interval. Even then she approaches with the greatest caution,
ready to dart away again at the first movement of the intruder. In
this connection, according to Mr. Bowles, the male has a very curious and
amusing habit. If he sees his mate after she leaves the nest, instead of
joining her and consoling her in her misfortune, he promptly gives chase
in the most furious fashion, driving her from bush to bush as though
she had wilfully deserted their treasures.
As near as we can determine the Calaveras Warbler nests but once
in a season in California. Five eggs make the usual set complement,
and deposition occurs from May 20 to June 20, according to altitude.
Ceanothus cordulatus, snow-bush, is a favorite cover, according to Mr.
Chester Barlow, in the middle Sierras; and C. velutinus further north.
A favorite lining is soap-root fiber wherever this is obtainable, but dried
grasses, horsehair, and feathers are welcome elsewhere. Nests are still
rare in collections, and are likely to remain so while California chaparral
offers such ample asylum to the birds.
454
The Lucy Warbler
LUCY WARBLERS
No. 81
Lucy’s Warbler
A. O. U. No. 643. Vermivora luciz (J. G. Cooper).
Description.—Adult male in spring and summer: Crown and upper tail-
coverts chestnut, that of crown often more or less concealed by gray tips; remaining
upperparts light neutral gray, shading on sides into dull white of underparts; lower
455
The Lucy Warbler
cheeks, lores, and a short superciliary, white. Bill and feet dark horn-color. Adult
male in fall and winter: Like male in spring, but upperparts overcast with brownish,
and underparts, save on belly, overcast with brownish buff; the chestnut of crown-
patch nearly concealed by broad tips of brownish gray feathers. Adult female: Like
male but chestnut of crown reduced in area, and more or less concealed by gray tips
of feathers. Young, first plumage: Like adults, but of a clearer white below, chest-
nut of crown lacking, that of upper tail-coverts changed to buffy ochraceous, middle
and greater wing-coverts tipped with buffy, forming two noticeable bars. Ay. of 10
malesin M. V. Z. colls: Length (skins) 103.4 (4.07); wing 56.6 (2.23); tail 41.8 (1.646);
bill 8.5 (.33); tarsus 16.1 (.63). Females a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Smallest warbler size; gray coloration with chestnut
patches distinctive.
Nesting.— Nest: An unpretentious cup of fine grass, lined or not with horse-
hair, or, more rarely, with cowhair; placed at moderate heights in crevices or holes,
or behind bark-scale of mesquite trees. Eggs: 4 or 5, 6 of record; white, sharply
and sparingly speckled, chiefly about the larger end, or else wreathed with chestnut
and violet-gray. Av. size 15.24 x 12.2 (.60 x .48). Season: Colorado River, April;
Tucson, May; one brood.
General Range.—Southwestern United States and Mexico. Breeds in Lower
Sonoran zone in southeastern California, extreme southwestern Utah, and Arizona;
winters in western Mexico south to Jalisco.
Range in California.—Breeds in the mesquite belt of the Colorado River,
and occurs sparingly upon the Colorado Desert: Chemehuevis Valley, March 10,
1910, by Joseph Grinnell; Mecca, March 29, 1911, by A. van Rossem.
Authorities.—van Rossem, Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 137 (Mecca); Brewster,
Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, vol. vii., 1882, p. 82 (Ariz.; habits, desc. young, nest and eggs,
etc.); Gilman, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 166 (Ariz.; nesting habits); Grinnell, Univ,
Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p. 191 (Colo. Valley).
IT IS NOT surprising that some of the ornithological fathers should
have overlooked this elusive and obscurely colored species. The bird,
nevertheless, abounds in those sharply limited areas of California which
support mesquite trees (Prosopis juliflora glandulosa) of a sufficient size.
Our own Dr. Cooper discovered and described the species from a bird
taken at Fort Mojave in the spring of 1861; and as he described it he made
graceful dedication forthwith to Miss Lucy Baird, whose father, Spencer
F. Baird, Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, had shown such
conspicuous interest in western ornithology. But Fort Mojave was on
the Arizona side of the Colorado River. This left the occurrence of the
species in California in a presumptive state; and its status was never
fully established until Grinnell,! reporting in 1914 upon the expedition
sent out by the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology in 1910, declared it to
be of common occurrence, and breeding along the California side of the
Colorado River. Yet to a more recent observer, Mr. Adriaan van
e An Account of the Mammals and Birds of the Lower Colorado Valley,’’ by Joseph Grinnell, p. ro1fg. Pub-
lished March 20, 1914.
450
The Lucy Warbler
Rossem, fell the honor of first published record, for he took a specimen,
a female, at Mecca on the 29th of March, 1911, and reported in the Condor
for July of the same year. According to Grinnell’s recent Distributional
List,! Frank Stephens took an adult male Lucy Warbler at Silsby in
the Imperial Valley on the 8th of April, 1909. This was probably the
first specimen ever taken in California, for the Stephens MS before me
(doubtless written just previous to the above record) says, ‘‘I do not
know of any actual captures of this species in California.”
: Having settled the “honor to whom honors,” it is time to admit
that the joke is on us, and that the Lucy Warbler, who was undoubtedly
here all the time, has for years been laughing quietly at our expense.
The long-established presence of the Warbler is at
least as certain as that of the mesquite tree. Gil-
man is right in saying that this bird ought to
have been called the Mesquite Warbler, for
rarely has a bird become so devoted to a
single association. That the relation be-
tween tree and bird is an ancient one is
evidenced by the gray tone of the bird’s
plumage, which assimilates so remarkably
with the feathery, sky-mixed glaucous of
the mesquite leaves. Albeit an active
creature and zealous in song, the Lucy
Warbler becomes almost invisible in its
habitual setting, and the difficulty of
detection is heightened by the bird’s
instinctive wariness. Again and again
I have known a bird which had seemed
quite engrossed in song to fall silent at
the stir of a footstep a hundred yards
away.
The Lucy Warbler is a loud and in-
dustrious singer, but the song has a
curious generic quality very difficult to
describe. It is Warbler song, rather than
the song of the Lucy Warbler. It is,
perhaps, most like that of the Pileolated
Warbler (Wilsonia pileolata) in quality.
After that, it reminds one of the Yellow
5 a q . 3 SSS RSS § S “
Warbler Ss song, having the same Viva- Taken in Arisona Photo by the Author
A NESTING SITE OF THE LUCY WARBLER
1“ A Distributional List of the Birds of California,’’ p. 145. A NEST IS SUNK INTO A RECESS NEAR THE TOP
Published Oct. 21, 1915. OF THIS STUMP
457
The Lucy Warbler
cious cadence, but not being so sharply piercing. Again its breathless,
haphazard quality suggests one of the Buntings; and I once followed its
tantalizing seductions for half an hour under the delusion that I was on
the track of the coveted Beautiful Bunting (Passerina versicolor pulchra).
The Lucy Warbler has also an emphatic, vibrant chup note,—an
alarm which one hears a hundred times, to once that he catches sight of
the gray wood sprite himself.
These birds take mighty good care not to be caught on or near their
nests; and in an experience of some forty nestings, I do not remember to
have flushed a parent bird above twice. Even after the nest is discovered,
rifled even, the wary midgets seldom venture nearer than a neighboring
tree, and then they are content to voice their displeasure in futile chups
at long range.
The reason for the bird’s attachment to mesquite becomes evident at
nesting time. The wounded or rent trunk and the shaggy bark of this
tree offer abundant hidey holes from which the warbler may select a
nesting site. Back of a sprung bark scale, or deep in some cranny,
and at heights varying from 18 inches to 25 feet, the warbler hides a
dainty cup fabricated of bark-shreds, frayed weed-stems, seed-pods,
and fine dried grasses. The lining is of macerated bark-pulp, cow-hair,
or feathers; and the birds are so careful to secrete their treasure that
only rarely does a telltale bit of grass protrude. Unoccupied holes
of the Cactus Woodpecker make acceptable sites if shallow enough;
and old Verdin nests, especially the smaller ‘‘cock nests,’’ are often made
use of for the protection they afford. Once our party found a set of
the Lucy Warbler eggs accompanied by one of the Dwarf Cowbird, in
a re-lined nest of the House Finch. Dwarf Cowbirds are prominent in
the formidable host of enemies which this tiny bird must face. Some-
times the warblers are able to entrench themselves behind apertures
so narrow that the Cowbird cannot get in; and once we saw the Cowbird’s
foundling resting unharmed, but also harmless, upon the ‘‘doorstep,”’ not
less than two inches distant from the warbler’s eggs. Another nest, more
exposed, contained three eggs of the arch enemy, and had been deserted by
the troubled owners. The Gila Woodpecker is an especially persistent
enemy. Accustomed as he is to poking and prying, he seems to take a
fiendish delight in discovering and devouring as many Lucy Warblers’
eggs as possible. We caught several of these villains red-handed, and
we found reason to believe that more than half of the nests in a certain
section had been wrecked by them. Add to these the depredations of
lizards, snakes, and, possibly, rats, and the wonder is that these tiny gray
waifs are able to reproduce at all.
While much of the history of the Lucy Warbler is still shrouded in
458
The Virginia Warbler
mystery, and much of its range remains to be worked out, we feel sure
from the Mecca record that the species once occupied in numbers the
mesquite forest of Coachella Valley, whose pathetic bones now bleach
on the salty borders of the Salton Sea. For the rest, it is narrowly
confined to the banks of the Colorado River, and as the mesquite is much
sought after for fire-wood, the bird may at no distant date disappear
from our borders altogether.
No. 82
Virsinia’s Warbler
A. O. U. No. 644. Vermivora virginiz (Baird).
Description.—Adult male in spring and summer: Crown-patch chestnut,
largely and irregularly, sometimes almost totally, concealed by gray feather tips;
rump and upper tail-coverts yellow (lemon-chrome); remaining upperparts and sides
of head and neck and chest neutral gray; chest and under tail-coverts clear yellow
(lemon-chrome), the color vaguely continued mesially on throat, or else glossed lightly
over entire throat, or else wanting; belly and sides dull ochraceous buffy, shading on
breast centrally to buffy white; eye-ring white. Bill blackish above, lighter below;
feet and tarsi brownish black. Adult male in fall and winter: Like spring male but
duller; the chestnut of crown entirely concealed by broad gray tips; the yellow of
chest duller; the upperparts washed with brownish. Adult female: Like male, but
duller; chestnut of crown restricted and usually entirely concealed; the yellow of chest
more restricted; and the underparts grayer, less brownish. Young, first plumage:
Like adults, but median and greater wing-coverts tipped with dull buffy, forming two
bars; underparts chiefly pale brownish gray, whitening centrally on breast and belly;
no yellow on chest. Av. of 9 males in the collections of H. S. Swarth: Length (skins)
III.1 (4.38); wing 62.1 (2.45); tail 47.7 (1.88); bill 10 (39.4); tarsus 17.7 (.70).
Recognition Marks.—Gray upperparts distinguish from all but V. lucie.
Yellow areas of chest and tail-coverts distinguish from V. lucie, which in many other
respects it closely resembles.
Nesting.—Breeding in California presumptive, but not of record. Nest:
A slight structure, composed of fine dried grasses or occasionally moss; placed on
ground, often a hillside, sunk flush, and nestled under cover of grass, weeds, or bush.
Eggs: 4 or 5; white, finely sprinkled, chiefly at the larger end, with vinaceous brown.
Av. of 9 eggsin M. C. O. coll., 15.1 x 11.6 (.59 x .46). Season: May, June; one brood.
General Range.—Southern Rocky Mountain region, west to eastern Cali-
fornia. Breeds in timbered areas of Transition zone from Nevada, Utah, and northern
Colorado, south to southern Arizona (Huachuca Mountains—2 sets in M. C. O. Coll.);
winters in Mexico south to Latitude 18 north.
Range in California.—Transition areas of the White Mountains. Based on a
single specimen, a juvenal taken by Halsted G. White, on Cottonwood Creek, east
flank of White Mountains, in Mono County, August I, 1917.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Condor, vol. xx., 1918, p. 193 (White Mts.); Swarth,
Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 4, 1904, p. 50 (Ariz.; habits, migr., desc. nest, molt, etc.).
459
The Yellow Warblers
THE TAKING of a juvenal example of the Virginia Warbler by
Mr. Halsted G. White, of the staff of the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology,
while at work in the White Mountains, justifies the pleasant presumption
that this shy and dainty species may be found as a regular breeder upon
our timbered desert ranges.
Virginia resembles ‘‘Lucy” (V. luci@) so closely that one suspects
the change of color on the rump and the added touch of yellow on the
breast to be mere devices, like different colored hair ribbon, whereby
Mother Nature may herself distinguish her twin daughters. Virginie
is a bird of the mountains, never allowing herself to be seen, according
to Howard,! below the 5000 foot level. Here she haunts the thickets
of ceanothus and cercocarpus, or else the underbrush among the pines.
The slightest suspicion of danger causes the little sprite to dash into
the brush, whence issues thereafter only a shifting and elusive, though
perfectly characteristic, chip. The male Virginia (we ought, perhaps,
to call him Virginius) is indefatigable in song. He sings at his work,
which, of course, is bug-catching. And when his appetite is satisfied,
he mounts a neighboring treetop and makes a business of entertaining
his lady love. The song is highly variable, but resembles more or less
that of the Lucy Warbler, common forms being, according to Minot:
Ché-we-ché-we-ché-we-ché-we, wit-a-wit'-wit'-wit’, and che-wé-che-wé, ché-a-
ché-a-ché.
The nest is placed upon the ground, among the pine needles or in
the shelter of nodding grasses, so cleverly concealed at times that search
must be made on hands and knees, even when the location is known
within a foot or so. The greatest circumspection is observed by the
birds, both in approaching and in leaving their nests; for where the eyes
of humans are dull, the eyes of snakes are glittering sharp, and the eyes of
jays are backed by a cunning which is almost second sight.
No. 83
Yellow Warbler
No. 83a Sonora Yellow Warbler
A. O. U. No. 652a. Dendroica estiva sonorana Brewster.
Description.—Adult male: Similar to that of D. @. brewsteri, but brighter,
clearer yellow (less olivaceous) above; the forehead more strongly or extensively tinged
with mars yellow; the upper back obscurely streaked with chestnut or dull chestnut;
the chestnut streaking of underparts much reduced, the streaks narrower or obsolete.
1Bull. Cooper Orn. Club (Condor), Vol. I., July 1899, pp. 63, 64.
4OO
The Yellow Warblers
Adult female: Similar to that of D. @. brewsteri, but slightly paler. Both sexes
slightly larger than in D. @. brewstert.
Nesting.—See under D. @. brewstert.
Range of Dendroica estivaa—North and South America. Breeds from northern
Mexico north to limit of trees; winters from Mexico to Brazil and Peru.
Range of D. @. sonorana.—Breeds in Lower Sonoran (or Lower Austral) zone of
the southwestern states from western Texas to southeastern California, and in northern
Mexico (Sonora, Chihuahua); south in winter through Mexico to Nicaragua.
Occurrence in California.—Abundant summer resident in the Colorado River
Valley; probably also the Imperial Valley and Colorado Desert.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p. 195 (Colo.
Valley; occurrence, desc., meas., etc.); 7bid., Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. I1, 1915, p. 146
(status in Calif.); Howard, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 39 (desc. nests;
Ariz.).
No. 83b California Yellow Warbler
A. O. U. No. 652c. Dendroica estiva brewsteri Grinnell.
Description.—Aduli male: General color of upperparts yellow with an olive-
greenish cast (between pyrite yellow and warbler green); clearing and brightening on
forehead, where feathers sometimes touched mesially with orange (mars yellow); flight-
feathers fuscous with yellow edgings on outer webs; rectrices fuscous centrally on exposed
upper surfaces, with yellow edgings on outer webs; inner webs almost entirely clear
yellow; underparts (shading on sides of head and neck) clear bright yellow (lemon-
chrome), streaked sharply across chest, on sides of breast, and sides, with chestnut.
Bill blackish with pale tomia; feet and legs pale brownish. Adult female: Similar to
male, but more uniform in color and slightly duller; clear pale yellow below without
chestnut; sometimes slightly paler above (not darker as in D. @. @estiva). Young
(nestling): Chiefly brownish gray above; below brownish gray on chest and sides;
whitish on belly, broadly; lining of wings, inner webs of tail-feathers, and edgings of
quills and tail-feathers, yellow; middle and greater wing-coverts tipped with buffy.
Ay. of to adult males in the Museum of Vertebrate Zodlogy: Length (skins) 115 (4.53);
wing 61.5 (2.42); tail 49.5 (1.95); bill 9.6 (.38); tarsus 18.6 (.73).
Recognition Marks.— Medium size; golden yellow coloration; chestnut streaks
on breast of male distinctive. The best distributed of the breeding warblers, but found
chiefly in deciduous timber near water.
Nesting.— Nest: A compact cup of woven ‘‘hemp”’ (gray weed-bark), and fine
grasses; lined heavily with plant-down, grasses, and, occasionally, horsehair; fastened
to upright branches of willow or other tre2 or bush. Eggs: 4 or 5; white, bluish-,
greenish-, grayish-, or, rarely, creamy-white, speckled or marked with largish spots of
dark brown (clove-brown to buffy brown), reddish brown (mikado brown to bister), and
vinaceous gray, or rarely, black. Av. of 22 California-taken specimens in the M. C. O.
colls., 16.5 x 12.2 (.65 x .48). Season: May 15 to June 15; one brood.
Range of D. @. brewsteri—Summer resident and migrant in the Pacific Coast
states, but perhaps typical only west of the Sierra-Cascades. Winter range undefined.
Distribution in California.— Breeds in riparian associations of Upper Sonoran
and Transition zones, practically throughout the State. Common migrant everywhere.
Relations to D. @. estiva upon the east not exactly definable, but breeding birds from the
region east of the Sierras appear to belong to this race. Curiously absent, even during
migrations, from the Santa Barbara Islands.
OI
The Yellow Warblers
Authorities.—Heermann (Sylvicola estiva), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2,
ii., 1853, p. 262 (Calif.) ;Grinnell, Condor, vol. v., 1903, p. 71 (orig. desc.; type from Palo
Alto); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 30, 1907, p. 47 (food); Ingersoll,
Condor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 84 (destruction of nests and eggs); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna,
no. 9, 1913, p. 99 (Fresno; habits; nests and eggs).
No. 83c Alaska Yellow Warbler
A. O. U. No. 652b. Dendroica estiva rubiginosa (Pallas).
Description.—Similar to D. @. brewsteri, but slightly larger and somewhat
darker, more olivaceous above; yellow of forehead less clear.
Nesting.— Much as in preceding race. Does not breed in California.
Range of D. @. rubiginosa.—Breeds in the northwest coast district of North
America, broadly defined, from Alaska (entire) south to Vancouver Island.
Occurrence in California.—Common late spring (May) and autumnal migrant,
practically throughout the State, but probably more abundant west of the Sierras.
Authorities.—Oberholser, Auk, vol. xiv., 1897, p. 76 (syn.; desc.; crit.; Moun-
tain Spring, San Diego Co.); Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p. 147 (status
in Calif.); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xxiv., 1922, p. 287, in text (desc., distr.).
TAKE a willow catkin bursting with powdered gold and nestling
against a cluster of its own vivid leaves, and you will have the model
after which the Yellow Warbler was painted. The bird was made for
the tree—perhaps in a sense he was made by it—and this associational
bond is a very strong one. Roughly speaking, the Summer Warbler
breeds wherever willows are found, and this means that his summer
home in California is nearly confined to the Upper Sonoran faunal zone
and to the vicinity of water, whether running or stagnant. Transition
tongues of alder and cottonwoods, mingled with willow, sometimes
tempt the birds into the upper reaches of some mountain valley, but
here more than ever he is dependent upon water.
The original Warbler, we guess, was yellow. At least the color
predominates throughout the group, and this warbler, yellow in ex-
celsis, is at once the most widely distributed and most abundant of the
Mniotiltide. Ignoring for the nonce the trifling subspecific variations—
which variations, of course, testify to the long-established dominance
of the species—we find Yellow Warblers breeding from ocean to ocean,
and from Sonora in Mexico to the limit of trees in Alaska. In well settled
districts, moreover, the bird no longer depends upon the exclusive shelter
of willows, but frequents wayside thickets and swarms through orchards
and gardens, and in town takes possession of shrubbery in lawn or park.
Thus, it is demonstrating its fitness to survive, while it is forcing upon
public attention consideration of at least one species of that vast host of
Wood Warblers whose variety and charm are known only to the initiated.
462
The Yellow Warblers
And that bovine object, the public, when it does con- ;
descend to notice anything so tiny as a Wood Warbler, y j
iy)
dubs this bird a “Wild Canary’’—and is done. Wild
Canary, forsooth! Why, if I had my way, anyone
who insulted one of these woodland exquisites by Lf
such an epithet should be sentenced to hard labor— /
reading bird-books for thirty days, or else tethered
solitary beside some brook whose mossy banks
rang vocal with a hundred strains of woodland
music—music such as never came from cage-
wired throats. The name as applied to one
of our Goldfinches might be barely tolerated,
for the Canary (Serinus canarius) is a Finch
(Family Fringillide), but in the case
of the Warbler, it is quite inappro-
priate, since the bird has nothing
in common with the canary
except littleness and yellow-
ness. Its bill is longer and
slimmer, for it feeds exclus-
ively on insects, instead of
seeds, and its pure yellow and
olive-green plumage knows
no admixture, save for the
tasty but inconspicuous
chestnut stripes on the breast
of the adult male.
The Yellow Warbler, while
frequenting wooded streams, is,
nevertheless, a bird of sunshine. It
does not keep to the depths of the
larger trees, but hunts over the thick-
ets and saplings, with occasional bold
excursions to outlying rose briars or
even to thesage. As it moves about,
to thread some willow clump with
sunshine—that we speak not of such te.
prosaic matters as bug-catching—it pauses momentarily for song.
The song is sunny, too, and while not elaborate, makes substantial
contribution to the good cheer of spring. Heard in the boskage it sounds
absurdly as if some wag were shaking an Attic salt-cellar on a great
green salad. The notes are almost piercing, and sound better, perhaps,
403
Taken in San Diego
{
Photo by
H:
i
Gi
, Donald R. Dickey
4
AN EXPOSED NEST —
CALIFORNIA YELLOW
WARBLER
The Yellow Warblers
from across the river than they do in the same tree. Individual variation
in song is considerable, but the high pitch and vigor of delivery are dis-
tinctive. Certain common types may be syllabized as follows: Sweet,
sweet, sweet, sweetie; tsee, tsee, tsit-a-wee, tsee; wee-chee, chee, chee wee-1-u;
tsu, tsu, tsu, tsu, tseéew. From its arrival some time in April, until near
the close of its nesting season in July, the bird may be found singing
throughout the sunlit hours.
The migrations of this bird in California have not been closely
studied. April 1st at Los Angeles is our earliest record, but ‘‘some
time in April” is as near as we dare to come to generalization. Nesters
in Transition areas are doubtless detained at lower levels until May.
Late April migrants are probably bound for Washington; D. @. rubigi-
nosa may dawdle within our borders till early June, to the scandal of
honest mothers of families. Occasionally, no doubt, typical eastern
birds occur as stragglers, but the
grounds of difference as between
estiva and @. brewsteri are already
so slight that you never could prove
the occurrence of @stiva.
The nest of the Yellow Warbler
is found in suitable territory at
any height, in alders, willows, apple
trees, or even fir saplings, but with-
out doubt the most acceptable site
is that afforded by dense thickets
of the wild rose (Rosa californica),
wherever found. Unlike its habit
in the northern and eastern portions
of its range, Yellow Warblers appear
to raise but one brood in a season
in California. Dates for fresh eggs
vary from May 5th to June 26th,
but it goes without saying that
later dates concern higher elevations,
or else second trials. The cradle
of this bird is of exquisite fabri-
cation. The tough inner bark of
certain weeds—called indiscriminate-
ly ‘“hemp’’—together with grasses
and other fibrous materials in various
Taken in Oregon Photo by Finley & Bohlman proportions, is woven into a com-
A CONTENTED BABY pact cup around, or settled into,
404
some stout horizontal or
ascending fork of bush
or tree. Asa result the
bushes are full of Warb-
lers’ nests, two or more
seasons old. A fleecy
lining, or mat, of plant-
down is a more or less
conspicuous feature of
every nest. Upon this
as a background, a
scanty horsehair lining
may exhibit every one
of its strands; or again,
as in the case of a nest
taken on the Chelan
River (in Washington),
the eggs themselves may
be thrown into high re-
lief by a coiled black
mattress. In colder sec-
tions feathers are em-
ployed as an auxiliary
lining. JI have one
taken at Goose Lake
after a June snow-storm
where white chicken
feathers figure
prominently.
The male Yellow is
very domestic in his
tastes, insomuch that,
quite unlike other Warb-
lers, he will often ven-
The Yellow Warblers
Taken in Washington
Phoio by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF CALIFORNIA YELLOW WARBLER
ture to sing from the very bush in which his mate is sitting. Unless
well accustomed to the presence of humans, the female will not sit patient-
ly under the threat of close approach. She slips off quickly, and her
vigorous complaints serve to summon her husband, when both flit about
close to the intruder, and scold roundly in fierce, accusing notes, which
yet have a baby lisp about them.
405
The Magnolia Warbler
No. 84
Maénolia Warbler
A. O. U. No. 657. Dendroica magnolia (Wilson).
Description.—Adult male in breeding plumage: Crown and nape bluish gray
(nearly clear Payne’s gray); upper back and sides of cervix, continuous with broad
facial band, involving eye and meeting fellow on forehead, black, faintly lustrous; a
white superciliary half-stripe separating black and gray, and continuous with white upper
eyelid; lower eyelid also white; rump yellow, shading as an overlay upon lower back;
some yellow or olivaceous skirtings also on scapulars; upper tail-coverts abruptly black;
quills and rectrices with narrow edgings of bluish gray; a large irregular blotch of white
formed by tips of middle, with tips and outer edges of greater wing-coverts; tail-
feathers, except middle pair, with square white blotches, involving middle third of
inner webs; lining of wings and lower tail-coverts and middle of belly, narrowly, white;
remaining underparts yellow (orange-chrome to pyrite yellow), clear on throat and
upper abdomen, heavily and broadly streaked with black on jugulum, sides of breast,
and sides, the streaks tending to become confluent in two or three large stripes on sides
of breast, and to form a large black patch on chest. Bill blackish; feet dark brown.
Adult male in autumn: Similar to spring male, but black of head almost entirely re-
placed by gray or olive-gray; supra-auricular stripe of white wanting; back washed with
warbler green, and black persisting only as central spots on scapulars; wing-blotches
reduced and divided by black so that two narrow white wing-bars appear; black strip-
ing of underparts much reduced and often wanting on chest. Adult female in spring:
Like adult male but duller; back washed with warbler green; black of back present, if
at all, as irruptive spots; black of face usually much reduced; white wing-blotch also
reduced in area; yellow of underparts paler and duller, the black striping much reduced,
or, rarely, wanting. Immature birds suffer still further reduction of black, which per-
sists only as stripes on lower flanks and across abdomen; chest crossed by dull band of
olive-gray. Length of adult males (skins): 113.6 (4.47); wing 60.1 (2.37); tail 48.7
(1.92); bill 9 (.36); tarsus 17.8 (70). Females slightly smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Small warbler size; below rich yellow, heavily streaked
with black, distinctive in spring, save in comparison with D. townsendi, from which
magnolia is further distinguished by its yellow throat (instead of black), blwe-gray crown
(instead of black), white line above and behind eye (in place of yellow), black back (in-
stead of warbler green), and by its greater posterior extension of yellow below. Square
white spots on central third of tail-feathers distinctive in any plumage.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: Of twigs, grass, and rootlets;
lined, or not, with hair; placed at any height in coniferous trees. Eggs: 3 to 5; white,
spotted and blotched, often wreathed or capped with chocolate (cameo brown to
blackish brown of the same hue) and vinaceous. Av. size, 16.5 x 12.2 (.65 x .48).
General Range.—Eastern North America. Breeds in Canadian and Upper
Transition zones from southwestern Mackenzie, northern Quebec and Newfoundland,
south to Alberta, northern Minnesota, Michigan, New York, and New England, and
in the mountains south to Virginia. Winters from southern Mexico to Panama and
rarely in the Antilles. In migrations west to the Rocky Mountains, and casually to the
Pacific Coast.
466
The Magnolia Warbler
Occurrence in California.—A straggler during migrations. Fourrecords: San-
ta Barbara Island, May 15, 1897 (Grinnell); Los Angeles, Oct. 21, 1897 (H.S. Swarth);
Los Angeles, Oct. 5, 1901 (Swarth); two taken on the Farallon Islands, May 29 and
June 2, 1911, by the author.
Authority.—Grinnell (Dendroica maculosa), Pasadena Acad. Sci. Pub., no. 1,
1897, p. 7; ibid., no. 2, 1898, p. 45; Swarth, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 145; Dawson,
Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 182.
INASMUCH as there are four records of the appearance of this
warbler in California, it may be reckoned casual, or even “‘rare migrant,”
rather than accidental; and we may hope to welcome it again. Indeed,
all the evidence would go to show that there is every year a certain small
percentage of eastern species which comes up or goes down the wrong
side of the Rockies, in the attempt to pass to and from the breeding
grounds in Alaska and Yukon Territory. These may be regarded either
as wanderers blown out of their course by adverse winds, or as adventurers,
unconscious pioneers, scouting out new flylines for their respective
species. The presence of an occasional foreigner among our regular
migrants may also be accounted for by pleasant entanglements formed in
the Southland, Mexico, or Panama. Yet it is also noticeable that these
waifs do go in bands of associated eastern species,
detached fragments of that brilliant army of in- x
vasion which, billions strong, annually
sweeps the East in a resistless, joyous tide.
We do not, of course, de-
tect a thousandth part
of the strangers among
us, for they pass
unheeded through
the wastes of chap-
Taken in San Francisco County Photo by the Author
THE LANDING PLACE, FARALLON ISLANDS
A RECORD STATION FOR THE MAGNOLIA WARBLER
467
The Black-throated Blue Warbler
arral or pine or fir. It is only when some fugitive battalion storms
a barren outpost, like San Clemente or the Farallons, that we realize
what is going on annually around us. Five of the nine first records of
accidental eastern Mnzotiltine species have thus been made on the Far-
allons or some other offshore island along our coast, and three of the
remainder were made on the mainland shore.
It was in such a stranded flock that I observed several handsome
Magnolias on the S. E. Farallon, May 28—-June 3, 1911. They were
quite the daintiest as well as the most conspicuous members of that sad
company, all destined, we feared, to be lost at sea. Most of the warblers
kept rather closely to the shelter of a small grove of cypresses which
surrounded the steam siren, or else deployed upon the grounds adjacent.
But one of these jewels, a stunning male, yet all bewildered and subdued,
was encountered on the steep trail leading out of the Raven cave on the
“West end’’; and here, where his only companions were “‘shag flies’’ and
sea fowl, he maintained himself for several days.
No. 85
Black-throated Blue Warbler
A. O. U. No. 654. Dendroica cerulescens czrulescens (Gmelin).
Description.—Adult male. in spring: Above deep green-blue gray, faintly
marked on pileum and back with mesial spots of black; extreme forehead, sides of head,
broadly, involving eye, entire throat, continuous with sides of head and sides, broadly,
black, faintly lustrous; remaining underparts pure white, abruptly defined from black
of throat; wings and tail black; basal half of primaries, except outermost, chiefly white,
forming a conspicuous and sharply defined blotch on exposed wing; inner edges of ter-
tials sharply bordered by white; the three outermost pairs of rectrices marked on the
inner webs with broad subterminal blotches of white, the two succeeding pairs narrowly
edged with white near tip of inner webs. Bill black; feet and legs brownish. Adult
male in autumn: Exactly like male in spring, except mandible brownish instead of
black. Immature male: Like adult male but somewhat duller; the blacks of throat
and sides tipped with bluish or olivaceous; the blue of upperparts faintly glossed with
olivaceous; the whites of underparts, especially on flanks and crissum, faintly washed
with buffy; the flight-feathers dusky instead of black. Adult female in spring: Entire-
ly different from adult male, save in white wing-blotch, which is reduced in area; white
spotting of tail faintly indicated by blotch on inner web of outer feathers only; above
and on sides of head deep grayish olive (or gray washed with warbler green); forehead
often with increase of bluish green; underparts deep olive-buff, shading on sides into
color of upperparts; lower eyelid and a narrow superciliary of dull white or pale olive
buffy. Bill dark brown. Adult female in fall: Scarcely different. Upperparts,
perhaps brighter, more greenish; cheeks more distinctly plain dark olive. Immature
female: Exactly similar to adult female, save that white wing-blotch still further
4O8
The Black-throated Blue Warbler
eer or pine or fir. It is ae when some fugitive Hees storms
-a barren outpost, like San Clemente or the Farallons, that we realize
what is going on annually around us. Five of the mine first records of
accidental eastern Mniotilline species have thus been made on thé Far-
allons or some other offshore island along our coast, and three of the
remainder were made on the mainland shore.
It was in such a stranded flock that I observed ‘Seven Fe
eek Magnolias on the S$. E. Farallon, May 28-June 3, 1911. They. were
Py : quite the daintiest as wel! as the most conspicuous members of that sad
company, all destined, we feared, to be lost at sea. Most of the warblers
kept rather closely to the shelter of a small grove of cypresses which
: surrounded the steam siren, or else ee upon the grounds adjacent.
an But one of these jewels, a Hundiag mate, vet all bewildered and subdued, _
¢ was encot wntered on the steep trai! leading out of the Raven cave on the
is only companions were ‘‘shag flies’’ and
for avera} laws.
‘West end’; anc het whee h
sea fowl, he maintained hirksell
&
dering
Nu, BA ea
Black-thl ected Dine W arbler
, GETING: Gees perk =i Ecerulescens éserulescens (Gmelin):
a. —Aduit #PicSiim spring: Above deep green-blue gray, faintly
niarked on pilewin and tack weft ee spots of black; extreme forehead, sides of head,
broadiy, involving eye. rg SOS Oniinuous with sides of head and sides, broadly,
bhitck, faintly lustrous: remsaiang Sarglerparts pure white, abruptly defined from black
of throaty wings and tail bins vasalshallf of primaries, except outermost, chiefly white,
forming & canspicueus asd saielg cslined blotch on exposed wing; inner edges of ter-
vd ty Aw egthree outermost pairs of reetrices marked on the
HUD nag tc Be of white, the two succeeding pairs narrowly
dig ak tae Bs Sele. Bill black; feet and legs brownish. Adulf
male te autanin: doeacily dhe a Ein, spring, except mandible brownish instead of ae
black, fyaprature ateie: Lake ateie iwale but somewhat duller; the blacks of throat as
and sides fpped with bluish or ais aceons: the blue of upperparts faintly glossed with =
olivactous: the whiter at underpagQia, sper ialiy on flanks and crissum, faintly washed
with huis; the Sighi-ie he rere Cushy tasucn ol bhark, Adult female in spring: Entire-
Aopund trea ahalt male, save Boshite wimenlorch, whichis reduced ia area, white
eerie oh HAIL Sat st aN Ht a a : blond on Beier wel af ourer feathers onlysatove
end cel eetis-at | jeep uranish Siwy (or dray washsd wit warbler green) totehead’
iets RARE birehes “taadek ey: in ceierneets dea; olpve-bofl, shading on. sides Into :
‘ erciiary of chat white or pale olive’
Tey. GRE Sark Seven, Aaa 3 fai: Beureedy Aietent. Upperparts,
outhape Sh. ie, nee high. chuehn wet daviserly, pale dark olive. Jmmature
po Beles aaa aie Gules Gaauide tae thet RE wang blotch sot farther
me wan
mt
station
ut)
d st
tials sharply border
thner webs with be
tdged with whire
Sine od aipprat ta: laws. ayes
eI ite a tne LE 2.
The Alaska Myrtle Warbler
reduced or wanting. Length of adult males (skins): 114.3 (4.50); wing 65.2 (2.57);
tail 51.1 (2.01); bill 9.4 (.37); tarsus 18.7 (.74). Females very slightly smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Medium warbler size; black throat and sides abruptly
contrasting with white of breast and belly, distinctive for male. Female an obscure
olivaceous bird, best known by white blotch near edge of wing.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: Of bark-strips, twigs and
grasses; lined with fine rootlets and horsehair; placed in low bushes near ground. Eggs:
4 or 5; dull white, spotted with dull reddish brown and vinaceous gray. Av. size,
16.5 Xx 12.7 (.65 x .50).
General Range.—Eastern North America. Breeds in northern portion of
United States from Minnesota to Rhode Island, and centrally in Ontario and Quebec;
winters in the West Indies and casually west to Central America and Colombia; in
migrations casually west to the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains.
Occurrence in California.—Accidental; one record: Farallons, Nov. 17, 1886.
Authority.—W. E. Bryant, Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci., 2nd ser., i., 1888, p. 48
(Farallon Ids., Nov. 17, 1886, one spec.).
A SOLITARY example of this strictly eastern species was taken by
W. E. Bryant on the Farallon Islands in November, 1886. The specimen
was destroyed in the great San Francisco fire.
No. 86
Alaska Myrtle Warbler
A. O. U. No. 655, part. Dendroica coronata hooveri McGregor.
Synonyms.—Hoover’s WARBLER. WESTERN MyrTLE WARBLER.
Description.—Adult male in spring: Crown (centrally), rump (narrowly),
and a large spot on each side of the breast, pure yellow (lemon yellow); the tint of the
crown-patch slightly “‘richer’’ (lemon-chrome); general color of upperparts blue-gray
(deep green-blue gray), heavily streaked with black (or else black with heavy edgings
of blue-gray), the black streaks narrow on pileum, and broad on notzum and scapulars;
wings black, the tips of the greater and middle coverts white, forming two conspicuous
bars; the lesser wing-coverts and outer edges of flight-feathers brownish, and often
more or less brownish gray across middle portion of back; tail black with white blotches
on inner webs of outer tail-feathers, successively decreasing in area, and vanishing on
the 4th or 5th pair; cheeks and lores black; a dab of white above lores; another on lower
eyelid; and a white streak over auriculars; throat pure white; breast and sides black,
with much admixture of white present as edging, the black thus roughly defining the
yellow, and persisting on sides and flanks as streaks; remaining underparts, including
lining of wing, white. Bill black; iris brown; feet and legs dark brown. Adult male
in autumn and winter: “Very different from the summer plumage; above grayish
brown, with black streaks concealed except on back and scapulars, where much less
conspicuous than in summer plumage; yellow crown-patch concealed by brown tips
to the feathers; sides of head brown, like pileum, varied by the same white markings as
in summer plumage, but these less distinct; chin, throat, and chest brownish white or
469
The Alaska Myrtle Warbler
pale buffy brown, the last more or less streaked with black; lateral yellow pectoral
patches less distinct than in summer, usually tinged with brownish and flecked with
dusky; black sublateral pectoral patches broken by broad white margins to feathers;
wings and tail as in summer, but white bands across former more or less brownish”
(Ridgway). Immature male: Like adult male in autumn, but buffy element more
strongly represented, and black of chest and sides less strongly developed (?). Adult
female in spring and summer: Like male in summer, but smaller and duller; brownish
gray largely displacing the bluish gray of upperparts; the yellow areas (except that of
rump) more restricted, both by encroachment and by blackish streaks on tips; the black
of breast and sides reduced by broadening of white edgings; sides of head brownish
black or brownish gray. Adult female in autumn and winter and immature: Like male
in winter but upperparts more decidedly brown; the black streaks much softer or want-
ing; the lateral yellow patches saffron-tinged, or wanting; the coronal patch entirely
overlaid with brown tips. Length of adult males: 129 (5.08); wing 74.1 (2.92); tail
56.2 (2.21); bill 10 (.39); tarsus 19.6 (.77). Length of adult females: 130 (5.12); wing
70.5 (2.775); tail 56.1 (2.21); bill 9.2 (.36); tarsus 18.7 (.736)—(After Ridgway under
D. coronata). Five adult males, northern-taken, in the M. V. Z. colls. average: wing
75.7 (2.98); tail 59.5 (2.34); and apparently sustain the contention that Alaskan birds
are to be distinguished by slightly greater lengths of wing and tail.
Remarks.—The very characteristics, viz., longer wing and tail, alleged to
distinguish hooveri from coronata, mark the form as the acme of the northwestern mi-
gratory trend which carried (and still carries) coronata from its winter home in the
Antilles north and west (via the edge of the Mackenzo-Laurentian ice sheet) to extreme
Alaska. Hooveri is, therefore, the extreme of the most vigorous coronata stock; and the
greatly lessened annual flights which those who winter in California indulge, must
eventually operate to reduce, and so render indistinguishable, the very character upon
which its differentiation is now based (for length of wing is a well-recognized function
of exertion).
Recognition Marks.—Large warbler size. Much like D. auduboni, from which
distinguished chiefly by white throat of adult birds; tchtp note much softer. Females
in autumn and winter and immature males are marked by at least a trace of yellow on
the sides of the throat; while immature females of the two species may be absolutely
indistinguishable out of hand (save by note). Yellow rump always a distinctive mark
of this and the succeeding species.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest and eggs, probably indistinguish-
able from those of D. coronata, described as follows: Nest of weed-stalks, twigs, vege-
table fibers, and grasses, lined with fine grasses and feathers; and placed five or ten feet
up on horizontal branch of coniferous tree. Eggs: 3 to 5; dull white, speckled and
spotted or blotched, chiefly about larger end, with snuff-brown, buffy brown, and vin-
aceous gray. Av. size, 17.3 x 12.7 (.68 x .50).
Range of D. coronata.—North America, except (?) the Rocky Mountain and intra-
mountain states. Breeds from the mountains of the northeastern states, northern
Michigan, etc., nearly throughout Canada north to the limit of trees and in Alaska.
Winters in the eastern states, sparingly from the latitude of Kansas and New Jersey,
increasingly south through the Antilles and to Mexico and Panama; in the Pacific
States south to southern California; also in Arizona,—four records (Swarth).
Range of D. c. hooveri—Presumably the western portions of the range of
D. coronata, in Alaska, south in winter to California.
Distribution in California.—Not uncommon winter resident and migrant in
470
The Alaska Myrtle Warbler
west central California, south to the Islands and Los Angeles, and east to the western
slopes of the Sierras; casually to the Colorado River (Potholes, Feb. 11, 1913). Whether,
indeed, spring occurrences represent merely the return movement of our own winter
residents, or whether the race also winters farther south, has not been determined.
Authorities.—Cooper (Dendroica coronata), Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci., vol. vi.,
1875, p. 193 (Oakland and Haywards); McGregor, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, 1, 1899, p. 32
(orig. desc.; type from Palo Alto); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 96
(occurrence in s. Calif.); Allen, Condor, vol. xvi., 1914, p. 37 (Berkeley, winter).
D. CORONATA is the dominant warbler of the East and North,
just as its counterpart, D. auduboni, is of the West. By virtue of its
aggressiveness and hardihood, it has long been entrenched in Alaska,
and has even been known to overshoot the mark into eastern Siberia.
Of this northwestern contingent a certain proportion has deserted the
old Mississippi Valley flyline, and now comes south along the Pacific
Coast to winter. The winter range, therefore, of this western con-
tingent is widely separated from that of the main body, and there is
thus a valid reason for separation of a subspecies, hoovert, even though
the physical differences assigned may be of the slightest. It may even
prove true that the two forms interpenetrate so thoroughly on their
Alaskan breeding grounds that hoovert will have to be defined as that
portion of the coronata host which winters in Washington, Oregon,
and California.
There is little in the appearance and less in the behavior of these
sojourners in the Southland to distinguish them from D. auduboni,
which everywhere outnumbers them a hundred to one. The chance
has a sporting interest in central and northern California, but those of
us who, living south of the Tehachipi, have levelled the binoculars a
thousand times in vain, have come to feel that the odds are against us.
Although broadly scattered and diluted in winter, members of this
species are likely to be found in groups, or pockets, and it is possible that
they concentrate still more closely during migration. At any rate,
friends both in Seattle and Tacoma have given me circumstantial ac-
counts of flocks containing hundreds, all whzte-throats.
Mr. Ralph Hoffmann, recently come to sojourn in Santa Barbara,
has called our attention to the fact that D. coronata has a softer,
more languid chip note than that of D. auduboni. This friendly tip
proves to be a touch-stone to recognition. The ear test is often
better than the eye test, especially when one is casting up averages.
Perhaps, after all, the odds against the Alaska Myrtle are only
fifty to one.
471
The Audubon Warbler
No. 87
Audubon’s Warbler
A. O. U. No. 656. Dendroica auduboni auduboni (Townsend).
Description.—Adult male: Similar to D. coronata hoovert, but throat rich
yellow (lemon-chrome); black cheeks reduced by encroachment of bluish gray over
auriculars; no white above and behind eye; white on middle and greater wing-coverts
much increased, sometimes involving most of the exposed surface of the greater coverts;
tail with white subterminal blotches on inner webs of four or five outer feathers; black
of breast and sides much purer, less white. Adult female: Similar to adult male, but
duller (differences closely corresponding to those in D. coronata); the white of wing-
patch nearly obsolete; the yellow of throat paler and often, especially on chin, more or
less displaced by white. (Young females, even of the second summer, are sometimes
absolutely without yellow on throat, but the more abundant white on rectrices is dis-
tinctive, as compared with D. coronata hooveri.) Seasonal changes follow very closely
those of D. coronata, but yellow of throat is retained in winter, save in young females and
(rarely) in young males. Young, first plumage: Above, bluish and brownish gray,
heavily streaked with dusky; the streaks finer on pileum and rump; the borderings
whiter on rump (no yellow), and browner on wings; underparts white, heavily and
finely streaked with dusky; white blotches on tail, as in adult. Av. of 10 adult males
in M. V. Z. colls.: length (skins) 132 (5.20); wing 76.5 (3.01); tail 60.4 (2.38); bill 10.2
(.40); tarsus 18.8 (.74). Av. of to adult females: length (skins) 130.4 (5.135); wing
72.7 (2.86); tail 56 (2.21); bill 9.8 (.386); tarsus 18.4 (.72).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; five spots of yellow; extensive white blotch-
ing of tail. Yellow rump distinctive in any (except first) plumage, save as compared
with D. coronata, from which it is further distinguished (usually) by yellow or yellowish
of throat. (If this character fails, the more extensive white on tail will always hold.)
Nesting.— Nest: <A well-built bulky structure of fir twigs (or pine needles),
weed-stems, rootlets, etc.; heavily lined with horsehair and feathers; placed usually on
branch of conifer from four to fifty feet up, sometimes in small tree close against trunk;
measures 4 inches in width outside, by 234 in depth; inside 2 by 1%. Eggs: 3 to 5,
usually 4; dull greenish white, sparingly dotted with blackish, or handsomely wreathed,
spotted, and blotched with reddish brown-black and vinaceous gray. Av. size 18 x 13.7
(.71 x .54). Season: May-June; one brood, or rarely two.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding in the north from central
British Columbia to southwestern Saskatchewan and the Black Hills, and in the south
from the mountains of southern California east to southeastern New Mexico; winters
from California and the valley of the Rio Grande south to Guatemala.
Distribution in California.—A common breeder of the mountainous sections
in both Boreal and Transition zones; found from the Santa Rosa and San Jacinto
Mountains north along the Sierran ridge to Shasta; east upon the White and Warner
ranges; in the northwest in the Trinities, south to northern Lake and Mendocino
counties, and locally in Sonoma County (J. Mailliard). Abundant in winter at the
lower levels practically throughout the State.
Authorities.—Gambel (Sylvicola auduboni), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., iii.,
1847, p. 155 (Calif.); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 30, 1907, p. 43 (food);
Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1908, p. 27 (mortality); ibid., p. 112 (San
Bernardino Mts.; habits, nest and eggs, molt, etc.).
472
The Audubon Warbler
No. 87
Audubon’s Warbler
A. 0. U. No. 656. Dendroica auduboni auduboni (Townsend).
Description.— Adult male: Similar to D. coronata hoovert, but throat rich
yellow (lemon-chrome); black cheeks reduced by encroachment of bluish gray over
auriculars; no white above and behind eve; white on middle and greater wing-coverts —
much increased, sometimes involving most of the exposed surface of the greater coverts;
tail with white subterminal blotches on inner webs of four or five outer feathers; black
of breast and sides much purer, less white. Adult female: Similar to adult male, but
duller (differences closely corresponding to those in D. coronata); the white of wing-
patch nearly obsolete; the yellow of throat paler and often, especially_on chin, more or
less displaced by white. (Young females, even of the second summer, are sometimes
absolutely without yellow on throat, but the more abundant white on rectrices is dis-
tinctive, as compared with D. coronala hoovert.) Seasonal changes follow very closely
those of D. coroneta, but yellow of throat is retained in winter, Save in young females and
(rarely) in young males. Young, first blumeage; Above, bluish and brownish gray,
heavily streaked with dusky; the streaks finer on pileum and rump; the Dorderings
whiter on rump (no yellow), and browner on wings; underparts white, heavily and
finely streaked with dusky; white blotches on tail, asin adult, Aw. of to adult males
in M.V. Z. colls.: length (skins) 132 (5.20); wing 76.5 (a0); tati 60.4 (2.38); bill 10.2
(.40); tarsus 18.8 (.74). Av. of 10 adult females: length (skins) 130.4 (5.135); wing
72.7 (2.86): tail 56 (2.21); bill 9.8 (386); tarsus 18.4 (072):
Recognition Marks. —\eAudu bon’s” Wa arble w; extensive white blotch-
ing of tail. Yellow rump distinctive im a (except first) plumage, save.as compared
with D. coronata, from which it is fMale, ab out .%, Se life size, by yellow or yellowish
of throat. (if this character fails, the more extensive white on tail will always hold.)
Nesting.— Nest: A well-built bulky structure of fir twigs (or pine needles),
weed-stems, rootlets, etc.; heavily lined with horsehair and feathers; placed usually on
branch of conifer from four to Alty feet up, sometimes in small tree close against trunk;
measures 4 inches in width outside, by 234 in depth; inside 2 by 114. Eggs: 2 to 5,
usually 4; dull greenish white, sparingly dotted with blackish, or handsomely wreathed,
spotted, and blotched with reddish brown-black and yinaceousgray. Av. size 18 x ae 7
(.71 x .54). Season: May-June; one brood, or rarely two.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding in the north from central
British Columbia to southwestern Saskatchewan and the Black Hills, and in the south
from the mountains of southern California east to southeastern New Mexico; winters
from California and the valley of the Rio Grande south to Guatemala.
Distribution in California.—A common breeder of the mountainous sections
in both Boreal and Transition zones; found from the Santa Rosa and San Jacinto
Mountains north along the Sierran ridge to Shasta; east upon the White and Warner
Tanges; in the ncrthwest in the Trinities, south to northern Lake and Mendocino
counties, and locaily in Sononya County (J. Mailliard). Abundant in winter at the
lower levels practically throughout the State.
Authorities.—Gambel (Sylvicola auduboni), Proc. Acad, Nat. Sei. Phila., ii,
1847; p. 155 (Caltf.); Beal, U.S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 30, 1907, p. 43 (food);
Grinnell, Univ, Caiii. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1908, p. 27 (mortality); zbzd., p. 112 (San
Bernardino Mts.; habits, nest and eges, molt, etc.).
#72
The Fox Sparrows
him as he is busily scratching among the fallen alder leaves. Scratching
is hardly the word, though, for the bird leaps forward and executes an
extravagant double kick backward, landing invariably at the edge of
the cleared space. Here, without a moment’s delay, he proceeds to
glean busily, whereas you rather expected him to pause at the end of
his stunt, like the acrobat, awaiting the conventional burst of applause.
If you must needs pursue the path, he hops back into the thicket and
the show is over for that day, or, perchance, for the novice, for that
season. :
It is by diligent screeping, however, that one may summon the
Fox Sparrow population for registration and review. One chooses a
humble station, partly screened, and kisses the back of the hand, in
simulation of a young bird’s distress cry. There is a rustle in the thicket,
Taken on Carroll Islet Photo by the Author
NEST, WITH YOUNG, OF SOOTY FOX SPARROW
the sound of bird-feet on branches faintly creaking, and of impinging
twigs. Presently there is a faint tsook of inquiry, and a form emerges
ten feet away, quiet, demure, attentive. Another and another appears
IGS
The Fox Sparrows
at different levels and looks mild inquiry. You are inspected critically
from all sides, but interest soon gives way to boredom. Napoo, says
one bird with a chuckle, and prepares to move away. Frantically
the bird-man renews his screeping. The birds are a trifle puzzled,
but this is not the first of nature’s mysteries which they have had to
pass up, and almost before one knows it the curious crowd has melted
away, and silence reigns again in the chaparral. It is rather humorous
and rather pitiful, for, honestly, this is about all there is to it—our
entertainment of a hundred million guests!
When it is remembered that our own Fox Sparrows nest only at
the higher levels, 6000, 8000, 10,000 feet, we may be pardoned for following
these retreating hosts northward on some vacation trip, to British Co-
lumbia or Alaska. We shall begin to overtake them first at sea-level,
on the islands of Puget Sound or along the Olympic Coast of Washington.
We are tantalized, as the tent pegs are being driven on a mossy level
just above the beach line, by certain sprightly songs bursting out now
here and now there from the copse.
We labor under a sense of avian surveillance as we gather fuel
from the beach, but the songs are too joyous and limpid to make precise
connections with anything in previous experience. It is not till the
cool of the evening, when we seek the spring, back in the depths of the
thicket, that we come upon a fair bird-maiden slyly regaling herself
upon a luscious salmon-berry, flushed to the wine-red of perfection,
while three of her suitors peal invitations to separate bowers in the
neighboring tangles. She flees guiltily on detection, but the secret is
out; we know now where these shy wood nymphs keep themselves in
summer.
The male bird is sometimes emboldened by the moment of song to
venture into the tops of willows or alders, but even here he hugs the screen
of leaves and is ready in a trice to dive into the more familiar element
of bushes. Once under cover of the protecting salal, or among the
crowding ferns, the Fox Sparrows are excelled by none in their ability
to get about with a minimum of disturbance; and the longest journeys,
such as are made necessary in the time of clamoring young, appear to
be made by slipping and sliding through the maze of intersecting stems.
The song is varied and vivacious; but, save for the opening notes, is
neither very strong nor very brilliant. The opening phrase, however,
Pewit, heu, comes as a tiny bugle call into which is distilled the essence
of all dank hollows, of all rustling leaves, of all murmuring tides, and
of all free-blowing breezes. It is the authentic voice of the little
wild.
374
Ayunod oAuy ur uayey,
4oyIn py ayy tq ydvabozoyd v UE
AOTG1e AA uoqnpny IU} Jo JULOFT TOULUNS V
Soye'y POoOMU0}}0+) oy} pue yeod Byouel[oO
The Audubon Warbler
found the keynote to a life-long acquaintanceship with one of the dearest
and bravest of birds.
Audubon’s Warbler as a songster deserves some notice. His song,
to be sure, is brief and
its theme nearly invari-
able, as is the case with
most warblers; but there
is about it a joyous, racy
quality, which flicks the
admiration and calls
time on Spring. The
singer posts in a high
fir tree, that all may
hear, and the notes pour
out rapidly, crowding
close upon each other,
till the whole company
is lost in a cloud of spray
Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by L. Huey & D. R. Dickey ate the end of the ditty.
A DISCOURAGED BABY—AUDUBON WARBLER At close quarters, the
“filling”’ is exquisite, but
if one is a little way removed, where he catches only the crests of the
sound waves, it is natural to call the effort a triil. At a good distance
it is even comparable to the pure, monotonous tinkling of Junco.
I once heard these two dissimilar birds in a song contest. The
Warbler stood upon a favorite perch of his, a spindling, solitary fir some
hundred feet in height, while the Junco held a station even higher on
the tip of another fir a block away. Here they had it back and forth,
with honors surprisingly even, until both were tired, whereupon (and
not till then) a Spotted Towhee ventured to bring forth his prosy rattle.
It was like Sambo and his “‘bones’’ after an opera.
The range of Audubon’s Warbler in summer is nearly coincident
with that of evergreen timber, if we except the digger pine (Pinus sabin-
tana) on one hand, and the desert juniper (Juniperus utahensis) on
the other. It does not, however, frequent all the more open pine woods
of the north central Sierras, nor does it occur in the redwood or asso-
ciated forests of the northwestern coast. Although the conditions
which obtain in Humboldt and Del Norte counties are very similar to
those which extend into Alaska as the ‘‘humid coast belt,’’ the Audubon
does not appear to breed with us anywhere near sea level, as it does
in Washington; nor is it found below strict “Transition” upon the eastern
slopes of the Sierras. But given its altitudinal requirements, the bird
475
The Audubon Warbler
is equally at home in the village park, in the loftiest fir trees, or in the
dwarfed pines of timberline. Under such diversity of conditions, the
bird’s habits must differ widely; and, indeed, it is difficult to generalize
with reference to its nesting.
In any case, the absorbing duty of springtime is nesting, and to
this art the Audubons give themselves with becoming ardor. The
female does the work while the male cheers her on with song, and not
infrequently trails about after her, useless but sympathetic. Into a
certain tidy grove in the North the bird-man strayed one crisp morning
in April. The fir trees stood about like decorous candle-sticks, but
the place hummed with Western Golden-crowned Kinglets and clattered
with Juncoes and Audubons. One Audubon, a female, advertised her
business to all comers. I saw her on the ground wrestling with a large,
white chicken-feather, and sputtering excitedly between tussles. The
feather was evidently
too big or too stiff or
too wet for her proper
taste; but finally she
flew away with it across
the grove, chipping
triumphantly. And
since there were other
feathers and since she
repeated her precise
course three times, the
bird-man had little
trouble in tracing her
to her nest some fifteen
rods away and forty
feet up in an ascending
fir branch.
When the nest was
presumed to be ripe, I
| ascended. It was found
settled into the foliage
and steadied by diverg-
ing twigs at a point some
six or seven feet out
along the limb. None of the branches in the vicinity were individually
safe, but by dint of standing on one, sitting on another, and clinging
to a third, I made an equitable distribution of avoirdupois and grasped
the treasure. Perhaps in justice the supporting branches should have
476
Taken in Washingion Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF AUDUBON WARBLER
The Audubon Warbler
broken just here, but how could you enjoy the rare beauty of this
handsome structure unless we brought it to you?
The nest is deeply cup-shaped, with a brim slightly turned in, com-
posed externally of fir twigs, weed-tops, flower-pedicels, rootlets, catkins,
etc., while the interior is heavily lined with feathers, which in turn are
bound and held in place by an innermost lining of horsehairs. One
feather was left to curl daintily over the edge, and so partially conceal
the eggs,—four speckled beauties.
Taken in Siskiyou County Photo by the Author
A TIMBERLINE HAUNT ON SHASTA
These warblers are connoisseurs in feathers, and if one could have
all their nests submitted to him, he would be able to make a rough assign-
ment of locality as between northern and southern birds, according as
feathers of Plumed Quail, Oregon Ruffed Grouse, or Washington Ptar-
migan were used. The most absurd nest I ever saw was one which had
a lining exclusively composed of Plymouth Rock chicken-feathers. The
effect was like that of a party dress made of bed-ticking.
Though evergreens are the commonest host trees, in which nests are
placed at any height from four to eighty feet, the bird is not above using
4/7
The Audubon Warbler
the shelter of deciduous trees as well. A nest which we attempted to
photograph in a northern city was placed in the lowermost available
crotch of an elm tree, one of a row of shade trees in front of a fashionable
residence, and not ten feet up. The composition of the nest was so
unusual—strings and white horsehair—that we decided we ‘‘needed”’
it in our business. But the situation was very prominent, under review
of we knew not how many lorgnettes. Moreover, we did not know the
state of local sentiment, nor did we care to provoke discussion. Accord-
ingly, we provided ourselves (my astute partner, J. H. Bowles, was
particeps criminis in this affair) with a convenient nest of Western Chip-
ping Sparrow containing three well incubated eggs, to supply to the
inquisitive eyes the place of the Audubon n/4, to be abstracted. When
we had photographed the nest zm situ, therefore, with due and discour-
aging solemnity, we quietly substituted Western Chipping Sparrow
n/3, pressing the new nest firmly down into place, so that the prevailing
winds would not disturb it. Judge of our amusement and satisfaction
when, upon strolling by half an hour later, we saw the female Audubon
sitting upon her foster eggs. We had not expected so complete a success.
To be sure, the bird appeared a little discontented, as though chiding
herself for folly in providing such a shallow nest. The next day, also,
found the victim of our little deception still in charge, so we retired,
quoting the comfortable proverb, as good for birds as for humans, ‘‘What
you don’t know doesn’t hurt you.”
Few warblers express such a frank concern for the welfare of their
domicile as do these lordly Audubons. When the young are grown,
the parents throw discretion to the winds and advance within a foot or
so of the intruder, prostrating themselves along the branches, or spreading
their tails and wings in frantic efforts to arouse a distracting cupidity.
The young are gentle, well-behaved little creatures, whom no one could
possibly wish to harm. When the nest is quitted, they follow their
parents dutifully through the treetops; or if the season is early, the male
takes charge of his brood while his mate prepares another nest. When
the season is ended, the family party works slowly over the mountain-
side above timberline. Such parties | met in July at 10,000 feet on
Shasta, where the only other birds one might expect were Thurber
Juncoes, or, perhaps, the heavenly Rosy Finch.
478
The Black-throated Gray Warbler
Pitan yooks -
BLACK-THROATED GRAY WARBLERS
No. 88
Black-throated Gray Warbler
A. O. U. No. 665. Dendroica nigrescens (Townsend).
Description.—Adult male in spring and summer: A supraloral spot of rich
yellow (lemon-chrome); remaining plumage black, white, and warbler gray; head,
throat, and chest black, interrupted by supra-auricular stripe of white, and by a malar
stripe of white, broadening on side of neck; remaining upperparts chiefly blue-gray or
“warbler gray’’ (dark green-blue gray), marked with black in inverted wedge-shaped
spots on back, scapulars, and upper tail-coverts; wings black or dusky, edged narrowly
with bluish ash or white, the quills broadly margined with white on the inner webs, the
middle and greater coverts tipped with white, forming two conspicuous bands; rec-
trices black, the two outermost pairs narrowly edged with white, and all the feathers,
except the middle pair, marked with white on the inner webs in sharply decreasing order,
from nearly totally in the outermost to mere subterminal marginings on the 4th and 5th
pairs; remaining underparts white, the sides sharply and heavily streaked with black.
Bill black; iris brown; legs and feet blackish. Adult male in fall and winter: Muchas
479
The Black-throated Gray Warbler
in spring, but gray of upperparts washed with brownish, the black streaking much
reduced in area, and the gray more or less intrusive on pileum. Jmmature male:
Much like fall adult but more heavily washed with brownish above, and almost without
black streaks; the pileum more extensively gray; the black of cheeks partly veiled by
gray, and the black of throat partially veiled by white tips of feathers. Adult female
in spring and summer: Much like male in summer and sometimes almost as brightly
colored, but usually duller throughout; the upperparts more extensively gray, the
color invading and nearly covering pileum, where sharply streaked with black; the
black streaks of back and upper tail-coverts fewer and narrower; the black of throat
more or less veiled with white tips, and the stripes of sides reduced in width. Jn
autumn: Plumage softer, the black streaks of upperparts obsolete or wanting. IJm-
mature female: Like adult female in autumn, but upperparts uniform brownish gray
(mouse-gray), cheeks a little darker; white of underparts tinged with pale buffy. Av.
length of 9 males (afield): 128.77 (5.07). Ten specimens in U.S.N.M. measure:
wing 62.2 (2.45); tail 50.5 (1.99); bill 9.2 (.36); tarsus 17.7 (.70). Eight females
average: wing 59.1 (2.33); tail 48.9 (1.925); bill 9.1 (.358); tarsus 17.3 (.68).
Recognition Marks.—Black and white and ‘warbler gray’’ coloration.
Yellow spot above lores distinctive, but otherwise requires careful discrimination
afield from Black-and-white Warbler (Mniotilta varia), q. v.
Nesting.— Nest: A deep cup-shaped structure, often rather loosely built, of
dead grasses, silky plant-fibers, moss, etc.; placed low in crotch of bush or sapling or
else on horizontal limb of conifer, 25 to 50 feet from ground; measures externally 3
inches (mm 76.2) wide by 2 (mm 50.8) deep; internally 134 (mm 44.5) wide by 1 (25.4)
deep. Eggs: 4, rarely 5; creamy white, marked chiefly about the larger end with spots
and small blotches of varying shades of brown, lavender, and black. Av. size 21x 16
(.83 x .63). Season: Last week in May and first week in June; one brood.
General Range.—Western United States north to Colorado, northern Utah,
and Washington, and southern British Columbia west to the Cascades; breeding south
to northern Lower California, Arizona, and northern New Mexico; ‘‘winters in southern
Lower California, and in Mexico from Durango to Michoacan, Vera Cruz, and Oaxaca”’
(AZOF Us \€oms):
Range in California.—Breeds in Lower Transition and high Upper Sonoran
zones practically throughout the State, save in the extreme coastal portion of the humid
district; less common on the coastal ranges. Well distributed during migrations.
Usually appears at Santa Barbara about April 29th; earliest Santa Barbara record
for spring migrations March 29, 1919. Earliest Pasadena record March 23, 1895, by
Joseph Grinnell; latest fall records: Los Angeles, Oct. 30, 1899, by H. S. Swarth;
Berkeley, Nov. 1, 1891 (?), by F. O. Johnson.
Authorities.—Heermann (Sylvicola nigrescens), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
ser. 2, ii., 1853, 262 (Calif.); Townsend, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. x., 1887, p. 223
(n. Calif.; discovery of nest and eggs); Barlow, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 177, fig. (Sierra
Nevada; habits, nests and eggs).
THE BLACK-THROATED Gray Warbler is not a mermaid, nor
yet a merman, but I shall never forget how one sang to me as I stood
“silent upon a peak in Darien,” nor how he plunged presently into the
nearest billow of an ocean of fog, which on a June morning had engulfed
southern California. Oh, the witchery of that June morning in the San
450
The Black-throated Gray Warbler
Taken in Riverside County Photo by the Author
AT THE 6300 FOOT LEVEL—SAN JACINTO MOUNTAINS
Jacinto Mountains! and oh, the solitude of that all-obliterating sea!
To be sure, the “‘shore’’ where I stood was 6300 feet above sea-level;
but it was as if the elder world had reasserted itself. Our continent-to-be
comprises only mountain ridges. The Hemet Range to the south juts
into our ocean like a promontory, while the distant Santa Ana Range
(beyond Elsinore) lies as an island, as perfectly defined as Santa Cruz.
Riverside, Pomona, Pasadena, Los Angeles, those troublers of the future,
they are indistinguishable ooze at the bottom of this ocean of grayness.
The sun, coming up from behind, smiles to see the prank which Mother
Nature has played, and all the surface of this pseudo-sea quivers with
delight,—weird doings, which only the bird and I witness; for presently
he emerges from his morning dip and resumes his drowsy song of solitude.
His perch is authentic mountain laurel (for all we are at the seaside),
and the bird, unmindful of the morning’s frolic, voices his quaint happi-
ness in woods woods woodsy, tones whose somnolent effect belies the
earnestness of the singer.
These notes are evidently the charm before which the spell breaks.
4ST
The Black-throated Gray Warbler
Reefs of trees disclose themselves beneath the retreating billows. Dis-
tant shoals of “‘culture’’ emerge. The ocean is sucked up by old Sol’s
impetuous beams. Sullen wraiths of mist are chased off the landscape
hilariously. Day is at hand. And day discloses the soberest chap,
nigrescens, all tricked out in black and white and Quaker gray. There
is a bird called the Black-and-white Warbler, and it has been known
to visit California. By way of distinction, I propose a new name for
our native son, viz.,
Black-and-white-and-
Russian-gray-with-just-
a-saucy-dot-of-yellow-
in - front - of - the - eye
Warbler. That'll fix
him. Or at least he will
come to mind if you call
him that.
The _ Black-throated
Gray Warbler is singu-
larly deliberate in move-
ment. He does not fear
exposure, but neither
does he court attention
by fidgeting. Besides,
what’s the hurry any-
how? We’ve got all day
to it. There is time for
a bug, and time for a
song, and time, mayhap,
for a tender passage with
a dear little lady, not so
black and not so white
and not so saucy with
her yellow.
However inconspic-
uous the migrations in a
given locality—and they
are usually inconspicu-
ous in California—the
Black-throated Gray
Semin Gok =< ios rte SE -.*| Warbler is an assured
Taken in San Jacinto Mountains Photo by the Author factor in the spring bird
NEST IN OAK SAPLING movement. Travelling,
452
The Black-throated Gray Warbler
as all warblers do, by night, this natty little voyageur will descend
wherever daybreak overtakes him; and I have seen him spend a merry
day in late April on the sand dunes, breathing the incense of sand ver-
benas, or venturing out upon the beach after seductive flies.
The normal breeding range of this warbler, however, is in Upper
Sonoran or lower Transition zones, wherever mixed cover is available.
Although fond enough of ceanothus and manzanita and scrub oak,
in which the nests are often placed, pure cultures of these chaparral
plants are not usually patronized by these birds unless they are over-
looked by scattering trees from which the male may sing. This require-
ment of mixed cover, therefore, rules out alike the treeless chaparral of
the lower levels and the upper Sierran forests, where the snows of winter
restrain the undergrowth.
The song of the Black-throated Gray is rather unpretentious,
although varied and highly individual. Mrs. Bailey has called iti ‘‘a
simple warbler lay, zee-ee-zee-ce, ze, ze, ze, with the quiet woodsy quality
of virens and caerulescens, so soothing to the ear.’”’ ‘‘Woodsy”’ is ex-
cellent, unescapable, but in view of increasing experience I can hardly
admit that the song is so simple as Mrs. Bailey’s characterization sug-
gests. While the droning woodsy quality is usually the clew to
identification, even where Hermits and Audubons and Lutescents and
Calaverases and Tolmies are singing at the same time, the Black-throated
Gray’s variations will keep the student on the alert. Typical songs are:
Heo flidgity; heo flidgity,; and twidge widge widge widgyleéootee. A Yosemite
male sang 71p 1 dwee, tip 1 dwee, tid wee tipple. There is character,
especially in the last turn, which occasionally suggests the lilt of the
Hermit, as, heo flidgity cho méo; or the explosiveness of an Empidonax,
as, Hoo cool kuhmeéako kuhweé ack. Light, rambling, inconsequential
ditties I have heard which utterly lacked the woodsy quality, Churee
churee kee, churee churee. And again, a lilting song dropped by a young
male who was feeding patiently among the catkins of a tall, fresh-budding
alder, had some of the airy qualities of the Kinglet’s notes, Deo déopli,
du du du, deo déo pli, deo déo pli, deo déo pli,—really a mere fairy sibilation,
too fine for mortal ears to analyze. ;
In nesting, the Black-throated Grays are decidedly shy and secretive.
The female, who of course does all the work, may be traced at building
time, but she takes better pains than most not to be caught on the nest.
Once in the San Jacinto Mountains, at an altitude of about 6700 feet,
an excited lady nigrescens burst out indignantly, as I was rounding
a point of rocks with a few scrub live oaks about. I hove to while the
little Quaker sputtered, and then I watched her make an interminable
"-4Hfandbook of Birds of Western United States, p. 419
>
4053
The Townsend Warbler
toilet while she sat in a dead manzanita of ashen gray hue. This making
of the toilet is the master sign of an incubating female. Cramped as
she has been by long hours on watch, she immediately falls to preening
her feathers, when danger, not too threatening, has obliged her to quit
her post. The mate, in this instance, appeared also, and ‘“‘chipped”’
both sharply and vigorously. But his interest flagged presently and
he made off, pouting, while the madame, always chipping, proceeded
to preen her feathers for the sixth time. It was a desperately tedious
process for the onlooker, but at last the call of the nest became irre-
sistible. The female roused herself, circled about noisily to throw me
off the scent, and then fell silent in the depths of a little live oak patch.
I moved toward it watchfully, but or ever I reached the edge the scolding
notes burst out afresh. This time I used my eyes, and presently made
out a dull gray nest snugly ensconced in the dull gray fork of an oak
sapling about eight feet up. The nest is deeply cupped, composed
externally of frayed weed-bark, bleached in some instances to white-
ness. The lining is of finest grasses interspersed with deer-hair, and
the brim is turned with a copious use of feathers, among which I recognize
the bronzy sheen of the Roadrunner’s.
Another nest, taken by Mr. C. W. Bowles in Oregon, is set in a
multiple fork of manzanita at a low height. The walls contain every
sort of woodsy loot,—flower-stems, frayed grasses, catkins, spider-cases,
and sheer trash. The lining is of gray feathers exclusively, while the
brim bristles with an array of Mountain Quail feathers. The four eggs
are white, speckled and spotted, chiefly about the larger end with light
russet vinaceous.
Although so fond of nesting at the lower levels, this warbler does
not scruple to nest also at any height in fir or pine trees; and in such
fashion it carries out the genius of the genus Dendroica, which is singularly
unfettered in its habits and choices.
No. 89
Townsend’s Warbler
A. O. U. No. 668. Dendroica townsendi (Townsend).
Description.—Adult male: Pileum, hind-neck, lores and auriculars, chin,
throat, and upper chest, black; supraloral region, continuous with broad superciliary,
a spot under eye, and a malar stripe (broadening behind, and nearly meeting end of
superciliary on side of neck), yellow; breast yellow, heavily streaked on sides with black,
484
‘The Townsend Warbler
_ toilet while she sat in a dead manzanita of ashen gray hue. This making
of the toilet is the master sign of an incubating female. Cramped as
she has been by long hours on watch, she immediately falls to preening
her feathers, when danger, not too threatening, has obliged her to quit
her post. The mate, in this instance, appeared also, and ‘‘chipped”
both sharply and vigorously. But his interest flagged presently and
he made off, pouting, while the madame, always chipping, proceeded
to preen her feathers for the sixth time. It was a desperately tedious
process for the onlooker,; but at last the call of the nest became irre-
sistible. The female roused herself, circled about noisily to throw me
off the scent, and then fell silent in the depths of a little live oak patch.
I moved toward it watchfully, but or ever I reached the edge the scolding
notes burst out afresh. The lame | used my eyes, and presently made ~
out a dull gray rest situgiy omsconced in the dull gray fork of an oak . -
sapling about cight feet up. The nest is deeply cupped, composed.
externally of frayed oweec-hurk, bleached im some instances to white-
pess.> The lining is of finest grasses interspersed with deer-hair, and:
the brim je turned with a copHous use of fenthers, amsong which I recognize
the hronzy sheen of the Roadruinner’s.
Another nest, taken by Mr. ©. W. Bowles in Oregon. is set in a
multiple fork of manzanita at a ow height. The walls contain every
sort of woodsy toot—flower-stems, frayed grasses, catkins, spider-cases,
and sheer trash. The lining is of gray feathers exclusively, while the
brim bristies with an array of Mountain Quail feathers. The four eggs
are white, speckled and 'Rownsend’sfWarblemhe larger end with light
russet vinaceis. Male and female, about % life size
Aloo) so Brom a\watericalor painting by Allan Brooks, (is warbler does
not seruple tc nest also at any height in fir or pine trees; and in such
fashion it carries out the genius of the genus paenetas which is singularly
unfettered { in its habits and choives.
"a5
No. $9
Townsend’s Warbler
ALO. U. No: 668. Dendroica townsend? (Townsend),
Desoription.<Adill male: Pileum, hind-neck, jores and ‘suriculars, chin,
threat, and weper chest, black; supratoral region, continuous with broad superciliary,
4 spGt under eve, anda malar stripe (broadening behind, and wearly meeting end of |
maperciiiaery as aide of neck), yellow; breast yellow, heavily streaked on sides with black,
$4
The Townsend Warbler
the black streaks thickening and merging with black of chest in front, scattering on
flanks, and reappearing on under tail-coverts; upper sides and flanks and remaining
underparts, posteriorly, white as to ground; back, scapulars and rump yellowish olive-
green (warbler green), sharply streaked with black, shading into black of head on hind-
neck; longer upper tail-coverts abruptly bluish gray; wings and tail blackish with
some edgings of light gray; two white wing-bars formed by tips of middle and greater
coverts; three outer pairs of tail-feathers blotched with white on inner webs in de-
scending ratio. Bill black with paler tomia; feet and legs brown; iris brown. Adult
male in fall and winter: Scarcely different; the black areas only suggestively veiled,
that of the throat by scanty yellow tips, that of the pileum by warbler green. [Note:
This characterization is based on four California-taken specimens in the Museum of
Vertebrate Zoélogy, and bearing dates of Nov. 25, Dec. 31, Jan. 6, and Jan. 22, re-
spectively. The description given under this head by Ridgway (Birds of N. & M.
America, Bull. 50, U. S. N. M., Pt. ii., p. 560) and others applies only to first year
males.| Adult female: Much like adult male, but black areas somewhat restricted
and much reduced in intensity; black spottings of back nearly obsolete; pileum chiefly
warbler green, upon which black appears mesially as streaks; cheek-patch olive-green;
throat chiefly yellow; the black of chest greatly reduced, appearing only as irruptive
patches and streaks. Immature male: Similar to adult female, but blacks every-
where a little more prominent, less veiled. Length about 127 (5.00). Av. of to adult
males in M. V. Z. colls: wing 66.5 (2.62); tail 53.4 (2.10); bill 9.5 (.37); tarsus 19.3
(.76). Av. of 10 adult females: wing 63.3 (2.49); tail 50.4 (1.98); bill 9.5 (.37); tarsus
18.4 (.72).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black on crown, cheeks, and throat of
adult male. Female and young exhibit same pattern with blacks reduced, or changed to
olive-green. Note breast yellow in contrast with Dendroica virens. Crown black or
olive-green, and superciliary yellow, in contrast with D. magnolia (which is warbler
blue on top of head).
Remark.—Mr. Swarth has called my attention to the close resemblance in color
pattern between Dendroica townsendi and D. nigrescens. If with townsendi as a base,
one should substitute warbler blue for warbler green, and white for yellow (with the
retention of a single spot over the lores), he would have an almost exact replica of
D. nigrescens. Not impossibly there is a real phylogenetic hint here.
Nesting.—Not known to breed in California. Nest: Of coarse and fine weed-
stems and grasses, lined with fine grasses, flower-stems or horsehair; settled rather loose-
ly upon horizontal pine or fir branch at any height, or nestled near trunk in top of
evergreen sapling. Eggs: 4 or 5; white, speckled and spotted, chiefly about larger end,
with reddish brown and dark brown. Av. size, 15.2 x 12.7 (.60 x .50) (Reed).
General Range.—Western North America. Breeds from Prince William
Sound and the Upper Yukon, south to Washington and western Montana; winters
regularly from central California to Guatemala, and sparingly north to Puget Sound.
Migration includes western Texas and several of the Rocky Mountain states.
Distribution in California.—A winter resident in west central California; of
regular occurrence from Marin County south to Santa Barbara; more sparingly through-
out the San Diego district, including the Santa Barbara Islands. Also a common
migrant through southern and interior California. Dr. Grinnell’s surmise (Condor,
vol. vii., 1905, pp. 52-53) that we have here two geographical races is probably a valid
one. According to this authority, the winter resident birds have shorter wings, and
hail from the northwest coast district; the longer-winged migrants which pass in
numbers in late April and up to mid-May, have spent the winter in the remoter South,
485
The Townsend Warbler
and are bound for the northern interior, eastern British Columbia, to the Yukon
territory.
Authorities.—Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 269 (Santa
Clara); Grinnell, Condor, vol. vii., 1905, p. 52 (status in Calif.); Beal, U. S. Dept.
Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 30, 1907, p. 46 (food).
VERBAL description of this woodland exquisite is superfluous
with Brook’s excellent plate at hand;! but one may be allowed to testify
to the thrill of pleasure which its appearance invariably creates. It
is impossible, moreover, for any color “‘process’’ to do justice to the
luster of the shining black in townsendi’s panoply, or to the purity of
the lemon chrome with which it alternates. This is, in fact, a very
dream of a bird, and I count it rather the handsomest of our western
species.
Californians are no grumblers, and we have learned, I guess, to
“count our blessings’? as well as to forget our woes. We are quick to
resent, therefore, the frequent criticism of the back-Easter as to the
variety and abundance of our birds. We point with pride to the fact
that our State boasts 580 varieties, at least one hundred more than any
other state in the Union (except Texas, that whale of a state which
Oberholser has gone over with a fine-toothed comb and a magnifying
glass, looking for subspecies); and we explain patiently that the reason
why we do not witness billows of migration in spring is because our
birds are not starved out in winter, and so do not have to go south to
live off Mexico. But strictly among ourselves, we shall have to confess
that we are beaten on the Warblers. The Yankee has us here, and he
will not forbear to rub it in. Out of 56 species (not counting subspecies)
of the Mnzotiltidae, New England claims 34 as resident or migrant,
of which 29 breed; and even prosy old Ohio sees 36 of these lisping fairies,
as against 13 (regulars) for California. We are justified, you see, in
paying double honor to western warblers.
Until very recently the authorities persisted in ascribing to Town-
send’s Warbler a summer home in California, but an expectant search
of all our mountains has failed to discover a single breeding bird, and we
are fain to conclude that townsendi, like coronata (hooveri) alone, passes
entirely beyond our border. On the other hand, the occurrence of this
species as a resident in winter has been persistently ignored, or at least
underestimated. It is likely to occur at lower levels throughout the
State wherever moderate temperatures prevail and suitable cover offers.
Always modest and unobtrusive, townsendi becomes more retiring in
the winter and hunts quietly through the live oaks, or visits the ragged
1Regrettably omitted in the smaller format.
4856
The Townsend Warbler
Taken in Santa Barbara County Photo by the Author
THE BEARDED OAKS OF HOPE RANCH
A WINTER STATION OF THE TOWNSEND WARBLER
ranks of unfallen leaves on the willow and sycamore trees. Its rarely
uttered tsip or tszip, although a little sharper and more clean-cut than
Audubon’s note, passes so easily for that of the more abundant bird
that townsendi habitually escapes notice the season through.
During the spring migrations, which occur in late April or full May,
townsendi attracts more attention. It is driven to lower levels in its
search for aphides or worms, and in a land where all is sunshine and teem-
ing life it does not so fear exposure. A bird sighted in the North during
the last week in May haunted a pine and a balm tree at the foot of a
lake, singing constantly. The song ran, dzwee, dzwee, dzwee, dzwee,
dzweetsee, the first four notes drowsy and drawling, the fourth prolonged,
and the remainder somewhat furry and squeaky. The bird hunted
patiently through the long needles of the pine, under what would seem
487
The Black-throated Green Warbler
to an observer great difficulties. Once he espied an especially desirable
tidbit on the under side of a needle-beset branch. The bird leaned over
and peered beneath, until he quite lost his balance and turned a somersault
in the air. But he returned to the charge again and again, now creeping
cautiously around to the under side, now clinging to the pine needles
themselves and again fluttering bravely in the midst, until he succeeded
in exhausting the little pocket of provender, whatever it was.
The song of the townsendi I find to be more variable both in quality
and cadence than that of any other western member of its group. It
sometimes reminds one of the lisping squeak of Dendroica virens, an
own cousin in the East. Sometimes it will have the drowsy obstructed
quality of our own Black-throated Grays. If I had not known that I
was bestriding the Forth-Sixth Parallel of longitude, and had not seen
the Townsendine mandibles keeping time at fifteen feet, I should have
ascribed a certain song, Swuss swuss swuss tsuss tsss, to the Blackburnian
Warbler (D. blackburnia) of the East. Again, near Victoria, B. C.,
I have listened to a high-pitched clear-cut song which had in it something
of the light quality and crispness of the Fox Sparrow’s notes, although
not, of course, so “‘large’’ a sound: Heo teo teeoo teeoo chee chee wee chu.
But it is in competition with the Hermit Warbler that our hero becomes
most alluring and most confusing. Lilly lilly lilly leéoolee, says the
Hermit; and if you are a quarter of a mile away, you catch only the
exquisite lilt at the end. Oozi woozi leé oo lee, says the Townsend;
and if you hear him, too, at a distance, you do not know which bird
has spoken,—Shibboleth or sibboleth? A very pretty wreath of bay
awaits the birdologist who will satisfy us on this little point of Mniotiltine
philology.
No. 90
Black-throated Green Warbler
A. O. U. No. 667. Dendroica virens (Gmelin).
Description.—Adult male in spring: Above bright warbler green (yellow with
a dash of black in it), changing on sides of head and neck to pure yellow, where also
interrupted by postocular streak, or patch, of olive-green; longer upper tail-coverts
chiefly ashy gray, or with a greenish gloss; two prominent white bars on wing formed by
tips of middle and greater coverts; three outermost pairs of tail-feathers chiefly white
on inner webs, the fourth pair broadly edged with white on inner web near tip; chin,
throat, chest, and sides of breast, black, continued narrowly, posteriorly, until break-
ing into streaks; the black usually very slightly veiled by whitish tips; remaining under-
parts palest yellow, or palest buffy white, clearing to pure white on under tail-coverts;
the flanks touched with yellow. Bill and feet dark brown. Jn autumn: Scarcely
458
The Black-throated Green Warbler
different—the blacks only slightly veiled by whitish tips (these tips, irregularly, persist
until April). Adult female in spring: Similar to adult male in spring, but black of
lower parts much reduced, displaced by yellow on chin and upper throat, and veiled
elsewhere by whitish or buffy edgings. Jn autumn: Blacks still further veiled by
buffy edgings; the upper throat dull yellow or buffy and marked obscurely with oliva-
ceous irruptions on sides. Immature male: Much like female in autumn, but blacks
a little stronger everywhere, and appearing under yellow veiling of upper throat.
Length about 127 (5.00). Av. of 9 males: wing 63.8 (2.51); tail 47.8 (1.88); bill 9.9 (.39);
tarsus 17.3 (.68). Av. of 7 females: wing 60 (2.36); tail 46 (1.81); bill 9.7 (.38);
tarsus 17.3 (.68).
Recognition Marks.—Small warbler size. Warbler green without spots above;
black of throat contrasting with yellow of cheeks and white of underparts.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: Of twigs, bark-strips, grass,
moss, and feathers; settled loosely into needles on upper side of horizontal branch of
coniferous tree, 10 to 50 feet up. Eggs: 4; white, with creamy or buffy tints, speckled
and spotted with vinaceous gray and chocolate, usually gathered in loose wreath about
larger end. Av. size 16 x 12.5 (.63 x .49).
General Range.—North America, breeding in Transition and Lower Canadian
zones, in the states and provinces lying each side of the 49th Parallel, and from Alberta
east to Newfoundland; south in the Alleghany Mountains to Georgia; wintering in
Mexico and south to Panama.
Occurrence in California.—Accidental during migrations; one record: adult
female taken on the Farallon Islands, May 29, 1911.
Authorities.—Dawson, Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 168 (Farallon Ids., May 29,
IQII, one spec.; June I, I9II, one seen).
ON THE evening of May 29, 1911, the author, in company with
John F. Rowley, secured, at all too close range, a female of this char-
acteristic eastern species. It had settled momentarily upon the ground
in front of the head light-keeper’s house on the S. E. Farallon. Unfortu-
nately most of the bird’s head was carried away by a bunched charge
of shot, but “‘the remains,”’ deftly prepared by Mr. Rowley, are now in
the Academy collections in San Francisco to attest the validity of this
first and only record. Another specimen, also a female, was seen in
company with such other migrants as Redstart, Magnolia Warbler,
etc., on the afternoon of June Ist; but no attempt was made to secure
it. As significant of the fine shades of distinction necessary in identifying
these warblers, I was amused (?) to find that an assistant curator at the
Academy had filed this specimen away as D. townsendi. Dr. Grinnell,
however, confirms our original diagnosis.
459
The Hermit Warbler
No. 91
Hermit Warbler
A. O. U. No. 669. Dendroica occidentalis (Townsend).
Synonym.—WESTERN WARBLER.
Description.—Aduli male in breeding plumage: Forehead, crown and sides
of head and neck, broadly, rich lemon-yellow, sharply defined below by black of chin,
throat and upper chest, less sharply above by black of occiput or hind-neck; this in
turn shading through mingled olive and black into gray of remaining upperparts;
upper plumage more or less tinged with olive-green and streaked more or less broadly
with black; wings and tail black with grayish edgings; middle and greater coverts
tipped with white forming two conspicuous wing-bars,—outermost pair of tail-feathers
chiefly white on both webs, next pair white on terminal half of inner web, and third
pair marked with longitudinal spot near tip; black of chest with convex posterior
outline sharply defined from white of remaining underparts. Bill blackish; legs
and feet dark brown; iris brown. Adult male in fall and winter: Yellow of crown
veiled by olive-green, sooty olive or blackish; black of throat veiled by whitish tips;
black streaking of upperparts less conspicuous. Adult female in spring: Like male
but much duller; the black of throat and chest wanting, or else heavily veiled,—upon the
throat with yellow, upon the breast with sordid buffy; the yellow of head duller, pale
yellow; the feathers of crown generously tipped with sooty olive or blackish; the black
of cervix wanting; remaining upperparts dull bluish gray, glossed with olive-green;
black streaks obsolete; remaining underparts sordid white or dull buffy. Immature
birds resemble the adult female, but the olive-green element in the upper plumage
much strengthened, nearly pure warbler green on cervix; the pileum chiefly olive-
green with mesial streaks of black; the black also more or less present in broad wedge-
shaped streaks on back (most abundant in males ?); underparts more strongly buffy,
with throat often buffy-white rather than yellow. Length about 130.8 (5.15). Av. of
10 adult males in M. V. Z. colls.: wing 67 (2.64); tail 50.8 (2.00); bill 9.8 (.39); tarsus
18.9 (.74). Av. of 5 adult females: wing 63.3 (2.49); tail 49 (1.93); bill 9.6 (.38); tarsus
17.8 (.70).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; yellow mask of male outlined against black
of throat and hind-neck distinctive. Female and young more difficult, but essential
yellowness of head contrasting with gray and sordid white usually suggestive.
Nesting.— Nest: Saddled on horizontal branch of fir tree at considerable height;
a compact structure of fir-twigs, mosses, and vegetable down; lined with fine grass and
horsehair; measures outside 4 inches wide by 234 deep; inside, 2 wide by 144 deep.
Eggs: 4 or 5; dull white, heavily spotted and blotched with shades of reddish brown and
vinaceous gray. Av. size, 17 x 13.2 (.67 x .52). Season: c. June Ist; one brood.
General Range.—Pacific Coast district and Sierra-Cascade system with its
outliers, north to British Columbia; Nevada and Arizona in migrations; Mexico and
Guatemala in winter.
Distribution in California.—Fairly common breeder in the Transition zone
of the Sierras from Mt. Whitney north to Shasta; doubtfully a breeder in the San
Bernardino Mountains; common migrant through southern California and on both
sides of the Sierras; less common or sporadic spring migrant through west central
490
No, 91
Hermit Warbler
A. O. U. No. 669. Dendroica occidentalis (Townsend).
Synonym.—Westren WARBLER.
Description.— Adult male in breeding plumage: Forehead, crown and sides —
of head and neck, broadly, rich lemon-yellow, sharply defined below by black of chin,
throat and upper chest, less sharply above by biack of occiput or hind-neck; this in
turn shading through mingled olive and black into gray of remaining upperparts;
upnor plumage niore or less tinged with olive-green and streaked more or less broadly
with black; wings and tail black with grayish edeines; middle and greater coverts
tipped with white forming two conspicuous wing-bars,—-outermost pair of, tat!-feathers
chiefly shite on both webs, sexi pair white on terminal half of inner web, and third
pale marked with jonpitudinal spot near tip; black of chest with convex posterior
outline shatply detixed trom white. of remaining underparts. Bill, blackish; Tegs
and feet dack brows+ itis irae. ote? male oe Tell and winter: Yellow of crown
beet by siivo-ereen, spols uhvedy blackish: blace of throat veliea by whitish tips;
biach streaking of upperparts féss cConsolevous. 2ifull female ta spring: Like male
but much dulce the black of fhrosat and chest wanting, or else heavily veiled,—-upon the
throat with yeliow, oun the breast witht’ surdid bath; che yellow ot Head duller, pale”
igual the feathers of crown generously tipped with auety @iye or dilackish; the black:
of cervis saiting )-reaaioing unge ee gray, Sinssed with olive-green;
black streaks obéglete- Hermit W rble Thite or dull buffy. Immature
horas eescesbix the adult female, bwtboute7Asilifegsiaen clement in the upper plumage
Brom a abater-color painting by Major Allan BrodksoU™ Clictly olive-
Ree with sbesial erréaks of black; the black also more or less present in broad wedge-
Shaped streeke ai tack {mest abundant in males ?); underparts more strongly buffy,
WH Tiivea: stir bylly-white rather than yellow. Length about 130.8 (5.15). Av. of
po wciult Hehon jay MM if bia eolls.: wing 67 (2.64); tail 50.8 (2.00); bill/9.8 (.39); tarsus
wietze, Aw. of 5 adult females: wing 63.3 (2.49); tail 49 (1.93); bill 9.6.(.38); tarsus
WPS Arg
Recodaiiiow Markx-—-Varbler size; yellow mask of male outlined against black _
m throa’ duel Sind-nerk distinctive. Female and-young more difficult, but essential
yetowntns of head Geatrvasting with gray and sordid white usually suggestive.
Sestitg.-~ Neoi) Sadgled on horizontal branch of fir tree at considerable height;
A canipact <icherupe of fie twie, mosses, and vegetable down; lined with fine grass and
horachait, miensuros oniside ¢ tachés wide by 234 deep; inside, 2 wide by 124 deep.
Fggs: gar. 5; white, Weasliy spotted and blotched with shades of reddish brown and
Findrenis gray Ay. site, 47 x 132 (67 x52) Seusan: c. June 1st; one brood:
tener Raase.--Pagic Coast district ar Sierra-Cascade system with its
Gptiors. aarth in Sritivsh Columbia; Meveda acd Arizena in tegrations; Mexico and
tishemeie 2a Whee
Pietibution fa ite ee Paiiy varesion breeder In the Transition zone
ai ie Slewras thom Sip. Whitey morta aa Shantay dowhiiilly w byesder in the San
Rigurdine Mowntains; common migtaat through aathers Califormia and on both”
stim af the Deyrus; less common or speradic apsing migrant through west central”
The Hermit Warbler
California. Has been twice taken in winter in west central California: Pacific Grove
and San Geronimo (Mailliard-Grinnell).
Authorities.—Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 268 (Petaluma);
Brewster, Auk, vol. iv., 1887, p. 166 (discovery of nest and eggs, at Blue Canon); Barlow,
Auk, vol. xvi., 1899, p. 156 (Eldorado Co., nesting habits, desc. nest and eggs); zbid.,
Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 179 (Sierra Nevada; habits, song, etc.).
FIRST impressions are unescapable; and the author hopes he may
be pardoned, for once, in introducing verbatim et literatim a record
written in the State of Washington, because it is, after all, strictly appli-
cable to much of the Hermit Warbler’s setting in California.
“There is a piece of woodland south of Tacoma which we call the
Hermit Woods, because here on any May day may be heard the voice
of this exalted Warbler. The proper hour in which to approach this forest
is early morning, before the winds have begun to stir in its dim aisles,
and while the hush of its nightly peace is upon everything—save the
birds. The soft moss muffles the footsteps, so that the devotee may
move about unheralded from shrine to shrine, as he pays silent homage
Leah
Taken in Yosemite Valley Photo by the Author
THE CATHEDRAL IN WHICH THE HERMIT SINGS
FOL
The Hermit Warbler
to each, in turn, of those morning stars of song, the Wood Warblers.
There is Audubon with his hastening melody of gladness. There is
Black-throated Gray with his still drowsy sonnet of sweet content.
Then there is Hermit hidden aloft in the shapeless greenery of the under-
dawn,—his note is sweetest, gladdest, most seraphic of them all, Lilly,
lilly, lilly, leé o leet. It is almost sacrilege to give it form—besides it
is so hopeless. The preparatory notes are like the tinkle of crystal
bells and when our attention is focused, lo! the wonder happens,—
the exquisite lilt of the closing phrase, /eé-oleet.
“In broad daylight it is the same. The singers remain in the tree-
tops and tease the imagination with thoughts of a domestic life lived
upon a higher plane than that of earth, an exalted state where all is
beatific and serene. And try you never so hard, with glasses of a high
power, it is a good hour’s work to obtain a satisfactory sight of one
of the uplifted creatures.
“In despair, one day, I determined to penetrate this supramundane
region where the Hermit is at home, and selected for the purpose a well
branched tree in the center of the forest and some hundred and fifty feet
in height. The tree was, fortunately, of the tougher sort, and permitted
ascent to a point where the stem might be grasped with the finger and
thumb of one hand. It was a treat to see the forest as a bird does.
The surface viewed from above was surprisingly uneven. Here and
there strong young trees, green and full of sap, rose to the level of mine,
but the majority were lower, and some appeared like green rosettes set
in a well of green. Others still, rugged and uneven as to limb, towered
above my station by fifty or seventy-five feet. My first discovery upon
reaching the top was that the bulk of the bird chorus now sounded from
below. But a few singing Hermits did occupy stations more lofty than
mine. One I marked down—rather, up—fifty feet above and a hundred
yards away. He sang away like a contented eremite from a single
twig, and I was reverently constructing his high biography and trying
to pick out his domicile from the neighboring branches, when flash!
he pitched headlong two hundred feet and was seen no more.”
In marked contrast with this lofty conduct, is the behavior of the
Hermit Warbler during migrations. In common with most other species
of Mniotiltide, the Hermits will not scruple at such times to descend
upon fences or wayside willows, or even upon the ground. We had
them in 1912—the year of the great warbler wave—fairly swarming
over the Santa Barbara coast up till May 1oth. On the 27th of April
we found them, together with fen other varieties of warblers, at a single
observation post near the city. Elsewhere and ordinarily, the appearance
of the bird at all, anywhere outside of its Sierran breeding range, is
492
The Hermit Warbler
deemed worthy of
record.
The nesting of
the Hermit Warbler
has always pos-
sessed a peculiar
fascination for Cal-
ifornian ornithol-
ogists. And at
that I am bound to
record, as | did ten
years ago, ‘‘the nest
of this species is
still rare.’ Most of
the Californian
records gather
about the classical
locality of Fyffe in
Eldorado County,
where the first fully
identified set
known to science
was taken by Rollo
H. Beck, on June
10, 1896.1! The
Beck set, n/4, was
placed well out on
a sloping limb of
yellow pine at a
height of forty feet,
and a regional ele-
vation of 3500.
The following year, on June 11th, Mr. F. M. Nutting? found a nest
containing young, which was placed only 12 feet up in a small cedar.
Chester Barlow took the second set, also of four eggs, in the same locality
on June 14th, 1898.8 This was placed at a height of 45 feet in a yellow
pine, but good photographs were secured and published.4 The third set,
n/4, June 8, 1899, fell to the lot of our veteran odlogist, Henry W. Car-
riger, then in his twenties. This might have been deemed an easy find,
since it was placed only 2% feet up in a tiny cedar; but a Hermit Warbler
HERMIT WARBLERS
1The Nidologist, March, 1897, p. 79.
2The Auk, Vol. XVI., April, 1899, p. 157.
3Tb., p. 158.
4The Condor, Vol. II,, March, 1900, pp. 44 and 45.
493
The Hermit Warbler
is never easy; and if it was in this instance, Mr. Carriger has justified
his reputation by picking Hermits’ nests out of tree-tops, where the laity
see only irresolvable greenery. In March, 1914, Mr. Milton S. Ray
reported a set taken May 14, 1913 (near Fyffe, of course), as the ‘‘first
to be found containing five eggs.’ Unfortunately, a northern collector,
Mr. J. H. Bowles, had already taken three sets of five, the first of which,
taken June 11, 1905, had been twice published.!
Although by no means confined to Fyffe, the breeding range of the
Hermit Warbler is, without doubt, very restricted. The bird is absent
from vast stretches which would seem to be perfectly suited to its needs;
and, in general, we may hazard the guess that the species, in obedience
Taken in Eldorado County Photo by Oluf J. Heinemann
Use by courtesy Milton S. Ray and ‘‘ The Condor"
NEST AND EGGS OF HERMIT WARBLER
to that strange hyperborizing instinct which the retreating ice left as
its peculiar legacy, is gradually deserting California for more northern
climes. The occasional occurrence of the bird in winter, as along the
Monterey coast, may be cited in support of this “northward trend.”
1Vide Condor, Vol. VIII., March, 1906, p. 41, and ‘‘The Birds of Washington," p. 196 (1909).
494
The Chestnut-sided Warbler
Since it requires a rather discriminating ear to note the bird in pass-
ing, or to pick it out in its breeding haunts, I record here a few variant
song forms which I have clearly traced to the Hermit Warbler: Zeegle,
zeegle, zeegle, zeet, fuzzy and low like that of D. nigrescens—this was heard
in Washington and is recognized by C. W. Bowles as being the type
form of southern Oregon songs; dzee, dzeé, tzibid-zeedzeé, dzee dzeé in a
sort of sing-song rollick; dzudzudzudzudzeéo zeéo zeet—first syllables very
rapid, musical; nasal turn to accented notes very like the ‘‘ping’’ note
of the Creeper song, and occupying much the same position save that it
is repeated; days, days, days, days zeét—the first notes lisping, with slight
accelerando, and the nasal ringing quality reserved for the last. Of the
song of the Fyffe birds Mr. Barlow has written:! “Though not loud it
would penetrate through the woods quite a distance, and very much
resembled tszt, tszt, tsit, tsit, chee chee chee, the first four syllables being
uttered with a gradual and uniform speed, ending quickly with the
chee chee chee. It was quite distinct from any other of the warbler songs,
and whenever it was heard the little musician was usually traced to
some pine tree where he would be found hopping nervously about.”
No. 92
Chestnut-sided Warbler
A. O. U. No. 659. Dendroica pensylvanica (Linnzus).
Description.—A dult male in spring: Extreme forehead and supraloral region
white; upper forehead and crown olive-yellow (pyrite yellow); malar region, lores,
and superciliaries black, the last-named produced and meeting fellow across occiput,
broadly, where also streaked with white and yellow; auriculars and hind-neck (crossing
cervix obscurely) white; remaining upperparts in general black centrally on feathers,
with bright olive-yellow (oil-yellow) or dull warbler blue edgings, the yellow sometimes
confined to middle of back; broad wing-bars, sometimes confluent, of white and sulphur;
chin, throat, and underparts white, relieved on sides by a broad stripe of chestnut,
continuous from malar black patch to flanks, where, and on lower sides, breaking
irregularly. Bill blackish; feet and legs dark brown. Adult femalein spring: Much like
male and often indistinguishable, but usually duller, with restriction of chestnut on
sides posteriorly; white of forehead displaced by yellow, and the yellow of crown duller
(wax-yellow). Adult male in autumn: Quite different from adult in spring plumage;
of the more prominent characters only the chestnut remains, and that confined to the
posterior portion of the sides. Above plain warbler green (olive-yellow), purest on
forehead and crown, elsewhere streaked with black; eye-ring white; extreme forehead,
lores, sides of head, and breast, dull neutral gray, changing variously to dull white on
throat and abdomen; flanks touched with yellow. Bill lighter. Adult female in
autumn: Like male in autumn but chestnut still more restricted; the black streaks of
1Auk, Vol. XVI., April, 1899, p. 159.
495
The Palm Warbler
upperparts chiefly confined to rump and upper tail-coverts. Immature male; Like
adult female in autumn. IJmmature female; Like adult female in autumn without
chestnut on sides or black streaking above. Length about 127 (5.00). Av. of 7 males:
wing 63 (2.48); tail 50 (1.97); bill 9.6 (.38); tarsus 17.8 (.70). Av. of 7 females: wing
59.3 (2.33); tail 46.7 (1.84); bill 9.5 (.37); tarsus 17.6 (.69).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; chestnut sides and white underparts in
adult; sordid gray on sides of head and neck contrasting with warbler green of crown in
immature; yellow wing-bars.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: Of coiled bark-strips, grasses
and plant-down; lined with hair; placed 2 to 10 feet high in bush or sapling. Eggs: 4
or 5; white or creamy white, speckled with rufous or chestnut, chiefly near larger end.
Boys GW, WOYG) 5 WAe7) (OS 2 HO) )s
General Range.—Eastern North America. Breeds in Transition zone from
central Saskatchewan, Ontario, and Newfoundland, south to eastern Nebraska, northern
Ohio, etc., and Rhode Island, and along the Alleghanies to Tennessee and South
Carolina. Also casually (?) to southern Missouri and the valley of the Wabash.
Winters from Guatemala to Panama. Casual, in Florida and the Bahamas.
Occurrence in California.—One record: Sherwood, Mendocino County, Sep-
tember 21, 1908.
Authority.—Marsden, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 64 (Sherwood, Mendocino
Co., Sept. 21, 1908, one spec.).
INSTINCT is less fallible than reason, but it is not infallible. The
migrating instinct successfully guides uncountable legions of frail creatures
across abysses of distance from which all but the most hardy of human
travellers would shrink. Yet now and then we are called upon to witness
its failure, and to record some straggler utterly separated from his kind.
A waif Chestnut-sided Warbler, a juvenal male, was picked up in Men-
docino County, Sept. 21, 1908, a thousand miles west of any known
breeding station of the species.
If we had not such abundant treasure of our own, we should surely
covet the possession of this dainty midget which so abundantly gladdens
the brushy hillsides of little old New England.
No. 93
Palm Warbler
A. O. U. No. 672. Dendroica palmarum palmarum (Gmelin).
Synonyms.—ReEpD-PoLL WARBLER. WAGTAIL WARBLER.
Description.—A dulit (sexes alike): Forehead and crown chestnut; extreme fore-
head dusky, divided by short yellow line; a yellow superciliary line; cheeks much like
back, rump and upper tail-coverts, olive-yellow; remaining upperparts olive-brown,
chiefly in broad mesial streaks, edged obscurely with lighter, and glanced with yellow;
wings and tail dusky with obscure grayish and greenish yellow edgings, the former
496
:
~
7
3
a
b,
‘al <
a
7
%
Ho
it
*
:
The Palm Warbler
upperparts chiefly confined to rump and upper tail-coverts.. Immature male: Like ~
adult female in autumn. Immaiwre female: Like adult female in autumn without —
chestnut on sides or black streaking above. Length about 127 (5.00). Av. of 7 males:
wing 63 (2.48); tail 50 (1.97); bill 9.6 (.38); tarsus 17.8 (70). Av. of 7 females: wing
59.3 (2.33); tail 46.7 (1.84); bill 9.5 (.37); tarsus 17.6 (.69).
; Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; chestnut sides and white underparts in
adult; sordid gray on sides of head and neck contrasting with warbler green of crown in
immature; yellow wing-bars. }
‘Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: Of coiled bark-strips, grasses
and plant-down; lined with hair; placed 2 to 10 feet highein bush or sapling.. Eggs: 4
or 5; white or creamy white. speckled with rufous or chestnut, chiefly near larger end. — we
Aw. size) .16.5.x/12-7 (.65 % 250). ,
General Range—Eastern North America. Breeds in Transition zone from
central Saskatchewan, Ontario, and Newfoundland, south to eastern Nebraska, northern’
Ohie, etc., and Rhode Island, and along the Allezhanies to Tennessee and South
Carolina. Also casually (2) to southern Misscuri and the valley of the Wabash.
Winters from Guatemala to Panama. Casual, in Florida and the Bahanias. Pe
Occurrence in Galifornia.—One record: Sherwood, Mendocino County, Sep-
tember 21, x908. x
Authority.—Marsden, Condor, vol. xi, 1909, p. 64 (Sherwood, Mendocino
o,.,. Sept, 21, 1908, one spec.).
INSTINCT is less fallible than reason, but it is net infallible. The,
migrating instinct successfully ‘Tolmie’s Warbler... of frail creatures
across abysses of distance Mele andifetnalellabout #hlifersizet hardy of human
travellers would shrink.Fromea water-calot Painting by, Allan |Brdokspon to witness
its failure, and to record some straggler utterly separated from his kind.
A waif Chestnut-sided Warbler, a juvenal male, was picked up in Men-
, docino County, Sept. 21, 1908, a thousand miles west of any known ©
<a ee breeding station of the species. es iV j
ei tt : ee _ Tf we had not such abundant treasure of our own, we should surely
ee covet the possession of this dainty midget which so abundantly gladdens
the brushy hillsides of little old New England: :
Neo. 93 oe :
Palm Warbler
A. O. U. No. 672. Dendroica palmarum palmarum (Gmelin).
Synonyms.—ReEpD-POLL WarpLer. WAGTAIL WARBLER,
Description.— Adult (sexes alike): Forehead and crown chestnut; extreme fore-
head dusky, divided by short yellow line; a yellow superciliary line; cheeks much like
back, rump and upper tail-coverts, olive-yellow; remaining upperparts olive-brown,
_ dhietty in broad mesial streaks, edged obscurely with lighter, and glanced with yellow;
wings and tail dusky with oliscure grayish and greenish yellew edgings, the former
The Tolmie Warbler
without conspicuous bars; subterminal white spots, usual to the genus, on two outer
pairs of rectrices; underparts yellow, clearest on chin, throat, and lower tail-coverts,
dingy on belly; elsewhere sharply and finely streaked with chestnut or olive-dusky;
the sides washed with brownish. Adult in autumn and immature: Crown much
obscured by brownish tips; superciliary line whitish or buffy; below dingy white, or
buffy with faint yellowish tinge; breast and sides obscurely streaked with olive-dusky;
lower tail-coverts, only, clear yellow. Length of males, 114.3-139.7 (4.50-5.50) ; wing
65 (2.56); tail 50 (1.97); bill 10 (.39); tarsus 20 (.79). Females average a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.— Medium size; chestnut crown distinctive in high plumage.
Keeps to fence-rows, hedges, and wayside bushes during migrations; ‘‘bobs’’ nervously
and wags tail.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: On the ground, in low places
or edges of swamps; a compact structure of grasses, bark-strips, and mosses; variously
lined. Eggs: 4; creamy white, spotted and blotched with reddish browns and vinaceous
gray. Av. size, 17.8 x 13.2 (.70 x .52).
General Range.—Breeds in the northern interior of North America from
northern Minnesota to southern Mackenzie and central Keewatin; winters from
southern Florida and the Bahamas to the Greater Antilles and Yucatan; during mi-
grations on the Atlantic slope; accidental in Colorado, Montana and California.
Occurrence in California.—One record, that of an immature male taken at
Pacific Grove, Oct. 9, 1896.
Authority.—Emerson, Osprey, vol. ii., 1898, p. 92 (Pacific Grove, October 9,
1896, one spec.).
IN LATE October, 1896, Mr. W. Otto Emerson, the veteran ornith-
ologist and collector of Hayward, took the record specimen of D. pal-
marum, a young male, near Pacific Grove. He took it at first for a Pipit
(Anthus s. rubescens), which it somewhat resembles, both by reason
of its hunting much upon the ground, and its habit of teetering the
body and jetting the tail. The Palm Warbler is unique among the
Dendroicans in the last-named respect, but it may be speedily distin-
guished from Anthus by the tell-tale white blotches on the rectrices.
Inasmuch as the bird breeds as far west as southwestern Mackenzie,
and there are other western records, a sharp lookout should be kept
for a possible repetition of this “‘accident.”
No. 94
Tolmie’s Warbler
A. O. U. No. 680. Oporornis tolmiei (J. K. Townsend).
Synonym.— MAcGILLIVRAY’s WARBLER.
Description.—Adult male in spring and summer: Foreparts in general, in-
cluding head and neck all around and chest, blackish slate or slate-gray; extreme
forehead and lores jet black; feathers of lower chest slate-black narrowly fringed with
ashy gray; extreme chin usually white; a sharp touch of white on upper eyelid behind
497
The Tolmie Warbler
and a longer one on lower lid; remaining plumage bright greenish yellow to olive-green,
clearest yellow, canary to olive-yellow, on breast and remaining underparts, centrally,
and on bend of wing, shading through yellowish olive-green on sides to olive-green of
upperparts; outer primary edged with white on outer web. Bill dusky brown above, paler
below; feet and legs light brown; iris brown. Adult male in fall and winter: Similar,
but feathers of hind-neck and crown tipped with dull brown; ashy skirtings of throat
and chest more extensive, sometimes nearly concealing the black. Adult female in
spring: Like male but slate of hood replaced by dull brownish gray (deep mouse-gray
to deep neutral gray) above, and by pale brownish gray (smoke-gray) on chin, throat,
and chest. Adult female in autumn: As in spring, but brown of head more intense.
Immature male and female: Like adult female in autumn, and not certainly distinguish-
able, although males incline toward slaty on breast, and females are of a buffer brown.
Length of adult male (female smaller) about 139.7 (5.50); av. of 10 adult males in coll.
of Mus. Vert. Zool., wing 58.6 (2.31); tail 52.7 (2.07); bill 10.4 (.41); tarsus 20.5 (.81).
Av. of 10 females, wing 56.6 (2.23); tail 52.1 (2.05); bill 10.2 (.40); tarsus 19.3 (.76).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; slaty hood of male distinctive; contrast
of color between chest and breast apparent in any plumage. A frequenter of thickets.
With a sharp ¢tsick or chuck note of alarm.
Nesting.— Nest: A cup of coarse twisted grasses; lined with fine grasses and
(if possible) black horsehair; placed low in bushes, sometimes practically on the ground.
Eggs: 3 to 5, usually 4; dull white, handsomely spotted and blotched, or self-toned,
chiefly at larger end in wreath or cap, with blackish brown or chocolate and under-
lying vinaceous gray. Av. size, 17.8 x 13.7 (.70x.54). Season: June; one brood.
General Range.—Western North America, breeding from central British
Columbia, central Alberta, southern Saskatchewan, and southwestern South Dakota,
south to central California, central Arizona, and northern New Mexico. Wintering
from Lower California and Mexico south to Colombia; casual a few degrees easterly
during migrations.
Distribution in California.x—Summer resident, locally common in Tran-
sitional areas, south along the Sierras to the latitude of Independence (Kenawyer’s,
south fork of the Kings River, July 8, 1913), and along the desert ranges to Grapevine
Mountain (A. K. Fisher); in the Coast ranges south to San Francisco Bay, and even,
sparingly, to Los Gatos, Santa Clara County (Van Denburgh); also a common migrant
throughout the State. One winter record, apparently of a derelict: Los Angeles,
Dec. 17, 1914 (Wyman).
Authorities.—Heermann (T77yichas tolmiet), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2,
ii., 1853, p. 263 (Calif.); Cowes, Birds Colo. Vall., 1878, p. 312 (syn., habits, etc.);
Wythe, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 123 (desc. habits, nest, eggs, young birds, etc.).
BRUSHY hillsides not too remote from water, or dense shrubbery
partially shaded by trees, afford ideal cover for this handsome warbler
and his all but invisible spouse. Mere chaparral will not do either,
for the bird loves moisture, and a certain tang in the atmosphere, found
in California in the humid coastal counties and on the middle levels of
the northern Sierras. Variety, also, is his delight; and after temperature,
variety in cover seems to be the bird’s requirement; and a great con-
fusion of shrubs, willow, alder, ceanothus, chokecherry, service-berry,
498
The Tolmie Warbler
chinquapin, or mountain mahogany suits him best. Here he may hide,
a most persistent skulker, wary, suspicious, active, and very competent.
Yet even he, when he thinks no one is looking, emerges from his shrubbery
depths, selects a topmost twig and breaks out in song,—a song which
is neither diffdent nor uncertain. Sheep sheep sheep shear shear sheep,
he announces in a brisk, business-like tone, totally devoid of musical
quality. And when you have heard him once, or, say, a hundred times,
you have learned all that may be
known of the Tolmie Warbler—out
of cover. Those who know the
Dickcissel of the middle West will
at once be struck with the close
similarity of its song, although
it must be admitted that the
Warbler’s is lighter in quality
and less wooden. A close
study of these efforts dis-
closes some variation, both
in the number of the syl-
lables and in the number
and distribution of the r’s;
thus, Sheep, sheep, shear,
Shear, sheep; Sheep,
Sheep, shear, shear,
sheep, sheep; and, a
shade more emphatic, Jick
jick, jick, jick, shear, sheep.
A Lake County performer
sounded forth eight times
per minute in songs of a
second and a quarter’s dur- Sy
ation: crik, crik, crik, crik, NEST AND EGGS OF THE TOLMIE WARBLER
ree'tie; while the members
of a colony near Sisson invariably said, Creek, creek, creek,
bizhup’, bizhup’.
For all we see so little of the Tolmie Warbler, the converse is by
no means true. That is to say, the bird does see a great deal of us
if we frequent the thickets. Whenever there is anything doing in his
vicinity, the Warbler promptly and silently threads the intervening
mazes, takes observations of the disturber from every angle, and retires
with, at most, a disapproving chuck. In the fall of the year discipline
Taken in Fresno County
Photo by the Author
499
The Tolmie Warbler
is somewhat relaxed, and a little judicious screeping in the shrubbery
will call up platoons of these inquisitive Warblers.
Owing partly to the caution of the sitting female, and more to
the density of its cover, the nest of the Tolmie Warbler is not often
found. When approached, the bird glides away silently from her nest,
and begins feeding ostentatiously in the neighboring bushes. This of
itself is enough to arouse suspicion in an instructed mind, for the exhi-
bition is plainly gratuitous. But the brush keeps the secret well, or,
if it is forced, we find a bulky, loose-built affair or coarse dead grasses
and rootlets, lined with black rootlets or horsehair, and placed either
in an upright fork of a bush, or built around the ascending stems of rank
herbage at a few inches, or at most two or three feet, from the ground.
Eggs, usually four or five in number, are deposited about the first week
in June at the mile high level, and Tolmie babies swarm in July and
August, quite beyond the expectation of our odlogical fore-season.
The finding of a Tolmie Warbler’s nest is almost always a happy
accident. It is, therefore, such nests as have happened to be placed
near trails or mountain camps which get found and reported. Thus,
Mr. Mailliard reports! a nest with five eggs taken May 7th near San
Geronimo, from a tangle of blackberry vines in a railroad right-of-way,
whose boundary fence he was following. Miss Margaret Wythe found
a nest with four eggs in the Yosemite Valley within three feet of the
camp trail, and noted that incubation consumed eleven days, with
the birds away in eight and nine days thereafter. The nest given in
the illustration was shown me by the ladies of the Sierra Club on the
18th day of July on the Simpson Meadows (in eastern Fresno County).
A word of explanation regarding the change of name from Mac-
gillivray to Tolmie is in order. J. K. Townsend discovered the bird
and really published it first, saying,2? “‘I dedicate the species to my
friend, W. T. Tolmie, Esq., of Fort Vancouver.’’ Audubon, being
entrusted with Townsend’s specimens, but disregarding the owner’s prior
rights, published the bird independently, and tardily, as it happened,
as Sylvia macgillivrayt, by which specific name it was long known to
ornithologists. Macgillivray was a Scotch naturalist who never saw
America, but Tolmie was at that time a surgeon and later a factor of
“the Honorable the Hudson Bay Company,’ and he clearly deserves
remembrance at our hands for the friendly hospitality and codperation
which he invariably extended to men of science.
1Condor, Vol. XI., March, 1909, p. 66.
2““Narrative,” April, 1839, p. 343.
500
The Oven-bird
No. 95
Oven-bird
A. O. U. No. 674. Seiurus aurocapillus (Linnzus).
Synonyms.—GOLDEN-CROWNED ACCENTOR. GOLDEN-CROWNED THRUSH.
Description.—Adult (female very slightly duller): Above buffy olive; top of
head with two blackish lateral stripes, the enclosed area ochraceous-orange (‘‘golden”’
only by courtesy), slightly veiled by olive-buffy tips of feathers; sides of head washed
with color of back; lores, obscurely, and ring about eye, whitish; below white, broadly
and sharply spotted on breast, sides of breast, and sides, with blackish; a narrow black
malar stripe; axillars and under wing-coverts pale sulphur; flanks pale olive-buffy,
shaded by darker; extreme flanks, possibly of immature birds, sometimes tinged with
yellow. Bill horn-color above, pale below; feet and legs light brownish. The species
exhibits little change with age, sex, or season, but plumage is brighter, fresher, in the
fall. Length (sexes equal), 139.7-165.1 (5.50-6.50); wing 72.5 (2.85); tail 52 (2.05);
bill 11.5 (.45); tarsus 13.2 (.52).
Recognition Marks.—Small sparrow size; general thrush-like appearance;
head-stripes with included “‘golden”’ crown distinctive.
Nesting.— Does not breed in’California. Nest: On the ground in deep woods;
a slight depression lined and completely overarched with leaves, grasses, bark-strips,
and trash, and with entrance at side. Eggs: 4 or 5, rarely 6; white, or creamy white,
speckled and spotted lightly and uniformly, or heavily and with tendency toward
wreathing or cloud-capping, with dull reddish brown (sometimes as dull as benzo
brown) and brownish drab. Av. size, 20.3 x 15.2 (.80 x .60).
General Range.—Eastern and northern North America; breeds from south-
western Mackenzie (casually in the lower Yukon Valley), northern Ontario and New-
foundland, south to central Alberta, Colorado, southern Missouri and Virginia, and
in the mountains of South Carolina and Georgia; winters from central Florida and the
Louisiana coast south through the West Indies to Colombia.
Occurrence in California.—One record of two birds on the Farallons; one
of them taken, May 28, 1911. Also the first clearly authenticated mainland record by
Richard Hunt as below.
Authorities.—Bonaparte, Compte Rendu, 1854, p. 385 (‘‘California’’); Dawson,
Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 167 (Farallon Ids., May 29, 1911, two seen); Hunt, Condor,
vol. xxii., 1920, p. 191 (Lavic, Mohave Desert, May 18, 1920, one spec.).
THE LIST of ‘‘casual” warblers in California is already very large,
and it seems probable that most, if not all, of such eastern warblers as
breed above the northern tier of states, will eventually be recorded as
wanderers into our domain.
This familiar spirit of every eastern woodland was one, or rather
two, of a band of waifs which came to the Farallon Islands on the morning
of May 26th, 1911. One bird, an adult male in prime feather, was
caught in an empty room of a light-keeper’s house, and is now in the
California Academy collection. Another, first seen a few minutes later
501
The Louisiana Water-Thrush
outside the house, was frequently sighted in the general vicinity of the
keepers’ quarters during the remaining five days of our stay.
No. 96
Louisiana Water-Thrush
A. O. U. No. 676. Seiurus motacilla (Vieillot).
Description.—A dult (sexes alike): Above dark olive-brown, darker on crown,
more olivaceous on upper tail-coverts; a dark stripe through eye of color of back; a
whitish superciliary line extended to cervix; a malar stripe of white, and a submaxillary
stripe of olive-brown; underparts white shading to color of back, on sides changing to
pale dull buffy posteriorly, sharply spotted on breast and sides with color of back.
Bill dark horn-color above, lighter below; feet light (flesh-colored in life?). Fall birds
are of fresher appearance, darker, less olivaceous (chetura drab) above. Length 146.1-
162.6 (5.75-6.40); wing 81 (3.19); tail 52 (2.05); bill 13.2 (.52); tarsus 13.5 (.53).
Recognition Marks.—Small sparrow size; thrush-like pattern of plumage;
white superciliary distinctive, as compared with S. aurocapillus or S. noveboracensis
notabilis; throat unspotted, as distinguished from S. x. notabilis; larger.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: On mossy bank or among
roots of upturned tree; of sodden leaves and twigs; lined with fine grasses and rootlets.
Eggs: 4 to 6, 7 of record; white, sprinkled and spotted, lightly or heavily, uniformly, or,
more rarely, in wreath or cloud-cap, with reddish brown (vinaceous russet to natal
brown) and vinaceous gray. Av. size, 19.3 x 15.8 (.76 x .62).
General Range.—‘‘Eastern United States to South America. Breeds mainly
in Carolinian zone, from southeastern Nebraska, southeastern Minnesota, and the
southern parts of Michigan, Ontario, New York, and New England south to north-
eastern Texas, northern Georgia, and central South Carolina; winters from northern
Mexico to Colombia, and Greater Antilles, Antigua, and the Bahamas; accidental in
California’ (A. O. U. Check-List, 3rd Ed.).
Occurrence in California.—Accidental, one record: Mecca, Aug. 17, 1908, by
Loye Holmes Miller.
Authority.—Miller, Condor, vol. x., 1908, p. 236.
THE CIRCUMSTANCES attending the capture of a unique speci-
men of this species, at Mecca near Salton Sea, hint strongly at an artificial
agency of transportation. Mr. Miller had first noted the bird on August
17th (1908), as it hopped about the trucks and platforms of tank cars
on the railroad siding; and it flushed repeatedly without quitting the
little oasis caused by the overflow of the railroad water-tank. He
shot it the same day from one of the timbers of the tank. On the whole
it would appear that the restless little Water-Thrush, one of a great
company, migratory through eastern Texas, had become entrapped in
a freight car of the Southern Pacific system. Or it might have flitted
502
The Louisiana Water-Thrush
outside the house, was frequently sighted in the general vicinity of the
keepers’ quarters during the remaining five days of our stay.
No. 96
Louisiana Water-Thrush
A. QO. U. No, 676. Selurwe motacilla (Vieillot).
Descripties.—Aduill (sexes alike): Above dark olive-brown, darker on crown,
more olivaceous on upper ieil-coverts; a dark stripe through eye of color of back; a
Whitish superciliary tine exvendeil to cervix; a malar stripe of white, and a submaxillary.
stripe af olive-brown; wederparts white shading to color of back, on sides changing to’
eta dull buify posteriorly, sharpty spotted on breast and sides with color of back.
Bil dark hora-color abave, lighter helow; feet light (fesh-colored ia life?). Fall birds
are of fegshey appearance, darker, fess olivaceous (chetura drab) above. Leueih 146.1-
16200 {F-75 S405; wang Bi ee )) tal §2: (2.05); bill 23.2 G52)s tarsus 134.5 (523).
Recegnition Markao-Sreall sparrow size; thrush-like pattern of ‘plumage;
Wale superciiiney distinctive, as comparca with 3, auracapillus or 8S. noveboracensis
hetebales: throat unspotied, as distinguished from S. vt. wotebelzs ; larger.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest: Or messy bank or among
Meete oi upthened tree; of sodden leaves and twigs; lined with fine grasses and rootlets,
Eggs: 4 to 6, 7 of reeord; white, sprinkled and spotted, lightly or heavily, uniformly, or,
iors rarely, in *reath or cloud-cap, with reddish brown (vinaceous’ russet to natal
brown} and vinaceous epi Av. size, 19.3 x 15.8 (.76 x .62).
Generali Range.—‘‘TAlaska) Watér-thrusleet) America. Breeds mainly
in Carolinian zene, from southe About. %, aska, southeastern Minnesota, and the
southern parts of ‘Michigan, Onta? About ii Me SIZE and New England south to north-
eastern Texas, con Brom a. seater-calor painting by, Allan Brooks \.ioccrs {oor northern
Mexico to Colombia, and Greater Antilles, Antigua, and the Bahamas; accidental in
California” (A. O. U, Check-List, 3rd Ed.).
Occurrence in Califoreia.—Accidental, one record: Meee, Aug. 17, 1008 by
Loye Holmes Miller. e
Authority.— Miller, Condor, vol. x., 1908, p. 236.
THE CIRCUMSTANCES attending the capture of a unique speci-
ten of this species, at Mecca near Salton Sea, hint strongly at an artificial
agency of transportation. Mr. Miller had first noted the bird on August
#72 (7905), as it hopped about the trucks and platforms of tank cars_
ov the railroad siding; and it flushed repeatedly without quitting the
little oasic caused by the overflow of the railroad water-tank, He
shot i the same day from one of the timbers of the tank. On the whole
it would appear that the restless little Water-Thrush, one of a great
company, Sey through eastern Texas, had become entrapped in
a freight car of the Southern Parifie system. Or it might have fitted Ree
02
evra
The Alaska Water-Thrush
in through an open window of a passenger coach and been held prisoner
until its impulsive captor had relented and turned it loose a thousand
miles from home.
No. 97
Alaska Water-Thrush
A. O. U. No. 675a. Seiurus noveboracensis notabilis Ridgway.
Synonym.—GRINNELL’sS WATER-THRUSH.
Description.—Adult: Somewhat similar to Sezurus motacilla, but smaller;
the throat spotted, and the whites everywhere tinged with dull sulphury yellow (much
duller than in S. x. noveboracensis): Above dark olive-brown, a little darker on crown
and more olivaceous on rump; below white, tinged with sulphur, increasing in strength
posteriorly, shading on sides into color of back, elsewhere, save on middle of belly,
spotted or streaked with olive-brown, the spots finest on throat and cheeks, thickest
on breast, and most elongated on sides; axillars and under wing-coverts pale olive-
brown, or whitish tinged and spotted with olive-brown; a yellowish or pale buffy
superciliary line. Feet and legs as in S. motacilla. Length 139.7-152.4 (5.50-6.00);
wing 76.5 (3.01); tail 53.4 (2.10); bill 13.4 (.53); tarsus 21.7 (.85).
Recognition Marks.—Large warbler size, but more suggestive of small sparrow;
nearly uniform olive-brown above, streaky below; superciliary yellowish and not so
prominent as in S. n. notabilis; underparts tinged with yellowish; throat spotted
(definitive as compared with S. motacilla).
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest (of S. 1. noveboracensis): On the
ground or in roots of upturned tree; of moss and leaves; lined with fine rootlets and
tendrils. Eggs: 4 or 5; white or creamy white, speckled and spotted with reddish browns
and vinaceous gray. Av. size, 19.8 x 15.2 (.78 x .60).
Range of Sezurus noveboracensis—North America, breeding from northwestern
Nebraska! (A.O.U.), and in the Alleghany Mountains from West Virginia north to
the limit of trees; south in winter to northern South America.
Range of SS. 7. notabilis—Western North America and northern South America;
breeds from southern British Columbia, central Montana, northwestern Nebraska,
northern Minnesota, and northwestern Michigan north to the limit of trees in extreme
western Alaska. Migrates chiefly east of the Rocky Mountains, through and over the
Mississippi Valley, striking the Atlantic Coast from South Carolina southward; winters
from the Bahamas, Cuba, and Mexico south to northern South America.
Occurrence in California.—Casual during the fall migrations; several records:
Santa Cruz, Sept. 25, 1885 (two examples), by A. M. Ingersoll; San Diego, Sept. 11,
1887 (Keeler); Cactus Flat, desert side of San Bernardino Mountains, Aug. 16, 1905, by
J. Grinnell; National City, San Diego County, Sept. 29, 1906, by C. B. Linton; Marin
County, Aug. 13, 1916, by Harold E. Hansen.
Authorities.— Belding, Land Birds Pac. Dist., 1890, p. 216 (Santa Cruz,
Sept. 25, 1885, two spec.); Keeler, Zoe, vol. 1, 1891, p. 371; Grinnell, Univ. Calif.
Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1908, p. 115. Linton, Condor, vol. ix., 1907, p. 60.
~4O
50
id
The Yellowthroats
GRINNELL counts the records of this bird’s occurrence like pearls
on a string, and chuckles each time a jewel is added. Alas! for the
author that he has no pearl to add! But how will a gem from Arizona
do? (the seventh, Mr. Swarth tells me, from that State).
It was May 8th, 1917. I was seated on the bluff bank of the Santa
Cruz ‘River’ (save the mark! it was a piddling trickle at this season)
in the heart of the famous mesquite forest south of Tucson. The boast-
ful notes of the White-winged Doves still filled the air, but the sun
was getting well up, and most of the other birds had fallen silent. It
was time to heave to and play the waiting game. Noting a stir, pres-
ently, in the recesses of a great root, which lay thirty feet below me
in the edge of the streamlet, I languidly applied the glasses. It was
well I did so, for out stepped as jaunty a dancer as ever confronted
the Theatre Francais. Daintily he teetered and daintily progressed
across the area of green scum which bordered the runlet. He picked
his way and he picked his food with equal fastidiousness; and though
his streaked suit is of the most conventional fashion, I was struck by
the note of haunting yellowness which Brooks has hit off so well in his
painting. It was as though the bird carried a sort of yellow aureole
which yet scarcely tinged his garments. Nothing could have exceeded
the trim jauntiness or the well-bred demureness of this titled, ogled,
multitudinously coveted fowl; and I could easily imagine that he was
stopping to admire himself as he paused beside a clear pool of water.
A Vermilion Flycatcher, surely some charmer himself, for he was a splen-
did male, hopped about the neighboring roots in friendly fashion, and
the gentleman from Alaska seemed nothing loth to join fellowship.
Er—that’s all. The bird flew.
No. 98
Yellowthroat
No. 98a Western Yellowthroat
A. O. U. No. 681a. Geothlypis trichas occidentalis Brewster.
Description.—Adult male in spring and summer: Above grayish olive-green
(buffy olive to olive-citrine), brighter (less gray) on upper tail-coverts and tail, changing
abruptly to brownish olive (Saccardo’s olive) on cervix and crown; an obliquely de-
scending facial mask of black, involving forehead, lores, space about eyes, cheeks, and
(more narrowly) sides of neck; along the posterior margin of this mask a narrow band,
or fillet, of white, abruptly contrasting anteriorly, shading posteriorly; chin, throat,
breast, bend of wing, and under tail-coverts, rich yellow (lemon-chrome); sides of breast
and sides heavily shaded with olive-gray (buff-citrine to dark olive-buffy), the color
shading and lightening as it crosses lower breast and belly. Bill blackish above, dark
horn-color below; feet and legs pale brownish. Adult male in autumn: Much as in
504
The Yellowthroats
spring, but darker and browner above, the brown intensified on crown, and nearly
obliterating the white fillet; the black of forehead veiled by buffy or brownish tips. Im-
mature male: Like adult male in autumn, but pileum entirely brown; the white fillet
wanting, and the black facial mask only faintly outlined under brown skirtings; the
yellow of breast less extended posteriorly, and more or less clouded by an orange-buff
element. Adult female in spring and summer: Subsimilar to adult male, but without
facial mask or white fillet; head above and on sides brownish olive, most intense on
crown, lightening vaguely about eyes; the yellow of underparts much restricted and
duller, clearest on throat and in pectoral irruptions, chest and under tail-coverts in-
clining to dull orange (old gold); breast buffy or creamy (colonial buff to naples yellow).
Adult female in autumn: Duller; the yellow element of underparts almost entirely
subdued by olive-gray; throat and belly cream-buff. Immature female: Much like
adult female in autumn, but showing a little more yellow, especially on under tail-
coverts. Young birds are olive-brown above and olive-buffy below, clearing toward
warbler green on wing-edgings and on tail, and lightening toward creamy on belly.
Length of adults (female a little smaller) about 127 (5.00). Av. of 7 adult males from
Humboldt County, Nevada (M. V. Z. colls.): wing 55.8 (2.20); tail 53 (2.09); bill
10.8 (.43); tarsus 20.4 (.80).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; black mask and white fillet of male dis-
tinctive. The female is a much more difficult bird to recognize—perhaps best known
by peculiar sordid olive-brownish-yellow shade of underparts. The pale orbital area
also assists, but one must live with these birds to know them infallibly.
Nesting.— Nest: Of coarse coiled grasses, or, more rarely, leaves of Typha
angustifolia; lined with fine grasses or horsehair; placed at moderate heights in cattails,
tules, weeds, or grass-clumps, or, more rarely, in bushes or even trees. Eggs: 3 or 4,
rarely 5; white, marked with a few bold strokes or scrawls of blackish, and dotted and
spotted, sparingly, chiefly about the larger end, with deep vinaceous gray. Av. size,
16.8 x 13 (.66 x .51). Season: May-June; one brood.
Range of Geothlypis trichas—North America, south in winter to Central America
and the West Indies. Z
Range of G. t. occidentalis—Western North America west of the Great Plains,
breeding from southeastern Alaska east to southern Saskatchewan, south to south
central California and western Texas; south in winter to Lower California and Mexico.
Distribution in California.~—Common migrant throughout the State; remains
to breed in the vicinity of fresh-water marshes (occurring below the Boreal zone) from
western central California (except the San Francisco Bay region) and the Death
Valley region north to the Oregon line. Status in winter undetermined, but possibly
the number of Yellowthroats found in California at that season increases.
Authorities.—Gambel (Trichas marylandica), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila.,
vol. iii., 1847, p. 155 (California; subsp. uncertain); Johnson, Condor, vol. vi., 1904,
p. 129 (Clear Lake; habits; desc. nests and eggs); Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv.
Bull., no. 30, 1907, p. 49 (food); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. x., 1912, p. 71
(crit.; occurrence in California).
No. 98b Tule Yellowthroat
A. O. U. No. 681a, part. Geothlypis trichas scirpicola Grinnell.
Description.—Like G. ¢. occidentalis, but somewhat darker and richer colora-
tion, especially in the yellows, which incline toward orange; also slightly larger (?)
throughout.
595
The Yellowthroats
Nesting.—As in preceding race.
General Range.—Southern California and southern Arizona (presumably,
also, northern Sonora and Chihuahua).
Distribution in California.—‘‘Common resident on fresh water marshes of the
Pacific lowlands of the San Diegan district; San Diego, Orange and Los Angeles Coun-
ties northwest to Santa Barbara, and valley of the South Fork of the Kern River,
Kern County; also along the lower Colorado River from Riverside Mountain to the
Mexican line’’—Grinnell (omitting parentheses).
Authorities.—Grinnell, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 65 (orig. desc.; type from
El Monte); zbzd., Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1912, p. 202 (crit.; desc., etc.).
No. 98c Salt Marsh Yellowthroat
A. O. U. No. 681e. Geothlypis trichas sinuosa Grinnell.
Description.—Like G. t. scirpicola, but slightly darker throughout, with reduc-
tion of the white fillet; averages somewhat less in size than G. ¢. occidentalis, especially
as to length of wing (mm 53).
Nesting.—As in preceding form.
Distribution (Wholly contained within California) Resident in the fresh-
water and brackish marshes immediately tributary to San Francisco Bay.
Authorities.—Grinnell, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 65 (orig. desc.; type from
Palo Alto); Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p. 151 (status in Calif.); Ray, Condor,
vol. xviii., 1916, p. 225 (nesting); Schussler, Condor, vol. xx., 1918, p. 62 (nesting, song,
etc.); van Rossem, Condor, vol. xxiv., July, 1922, p. 134 (occurrence at Anaheim Bay,
Orange Co., in winter).
Remarks.—Although the atmosphere of San Francisco Bay is undeniably
bracing, its effect upon such forms of animal life as have chosen this region for a per-
manent residence appears to be restraining rather than stimulating. Thus, the local
races of certain birds, as, Melospiza melodia pusillula and Geothlypis trichas sinuosa
are slightly dwarfed in size. The trouble is caused rather by reduced activity than
by unfavorable environment; for, as Coues says, ‘‘Migration holds species true; local-
ization lets them slip.”
A critical study of the two local or sedentary forms, G. ¢. scirpicola and G. t.
sinuosa, will scarcely discover any points of difference from the migrant occidentalts,
save those trifling ones of plumage, tone, and wing measurements. But the fault is
manifestly our own. Our methods of observation are too crude and our facilities for
comparison are too limited. It is impossible but that these separate races which have
endured so differently should reflect that diverse experience in modification of song,
of feeding habits, of courting and breeding cycles,—in short, in an altered psychology.
But all this is too subtle for our detection—so far.
“CATTAIL Yellowthroat’”’ would be a more appropriate name,
if only we had the courage to apply it, because for every pond or swamp
in the Southland which can boast the presence of the giant bulrushes
(Scirpus lacustris occidentalis and S. californicus), which alone are properly
called tules, there are a dozen where only cattails (Typha latifolia or
506
The Yellowthroats
Nesting.—As in preceding race. |
General Range.—Southern California and southern Arizona (presumably,
also, northern Sonora and Chihuahua). ; é
Distribution in California.—‘‘Commion resident on fresh water marshes of the
Pacific lowlands of the San Diegan district; San Diego, Orange and Los Angeles Coun-
ties northwest to Santa Barbara, and valley of the South Fork of the Kern River,
Kern County; also along the lower Colorado River from Riverside Mountain to the
: ake Mexican line’’-—Grinnell (omitting parentheses). i
: Authorities. Grinnell, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 95 (orig. desc.; type from
= El Monte); tbid., Univ. Calif. Pub. Zocl., vol. xi., 1912, p. 202 (crit.; desc., etc.).
4 No. 98¢ Salt Marsh Yellowthroat
2S A. 0. U. No. 6812e,. Geothiypis trichas sinuosa Grinnell.
Description.—Like G. ¢. scirfecola, but siightly darker throughout, with reduc-
tot ae tion of the white Gillet; averages somewhat less in size than G. 4. occidentalas, especially”
as to length of wing (nim 33),
Nesting.--As in preceding form.
Meee Distribution (Wholiy contained witkin Caliioraial— Resident in the firesh- Ae
fea) water and brackish marshes immediately tributary 1 Sag Francisco Bay.
Authorities.— Grinnell, Condor, vol. iii., #901, p. 65 (orig. desc.) tvpe from
Pala Alto); Pac, Coast Avifauna, no. 11, 1915, ‘p. 151 (status in Calif.); Ray, Condor,
vol. xviii., 1926, p. 225 (nesting); Schussler, Condor, vol. xx,, 1918, p. 62 (nesting, song,
etc.); van Rossem, Condor, vol. xxiv., July, 1922, p. 134 (occurrence at Anaheim Bay,
Orange Co., in winter). Y
Remarks.— Although Tule. Yellow-throat -..<-:. Bay is undeniably 2
bracing, its effect upon suqyaqe' gna Female about? Ho lite Gzerosen this region for a per-
manent residence appears to be restraining rather than stimulating. Thus, the local on
races of certain birds, as, Melospiza melodia pusillule and Geothlypis trichas sinuosa ~~~
are slightly dwarfed in size, The trouble is caused rather by reduced activity than
by unfavorable environment; for, as Coues says, ‘Migration holds species true; local-
ization lets them slip.”
A. eritical study of the two local or sedentary fornis, G. t. scirpicola and G.
sinuosa, will searcely discover any points of difference from the migrant occidentalis,
save those trifling ones of plumage, tone, and wing measurements. But the fault is :
manifestly cur own. Our methods of observation are too crude and our facilities for *
comparison are too limited. It is impossible but that these separate races which have
endured so differently should reflect that diverse experience in modification of song,
of feeding habits, of courting and breeding cycles,—in short, in an altered psychology.
Bui al! this is too subtle for our detection—so far.
“CATTAIL Yellowthroat” would be a more appropriate name,
if only we had the courage to apply it, because for every pond or swamp
in the Southland which can boast the presence of the giant bulrushes
(Seirpus lacustris occidentalis and S. californicus), which alone are properly
‘called tules, there are a dozen where oaly cattails (Tpke latifeka or
506
Glan [Brv04'S =
The Yellowthroats
Taken in Oregon Photo by H. T. Bohlman and W. L. Finley
AN ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION
T. angustifolia) dwell. And for every cattail patch there is a pair of
Yellowthroats—more, if there is room.
Given a cattail or tule patch as an assured base of operations,
Geothlypis will roam about adventurously enough. Rank grass, coarse
herbage, stunted bushes—these and the promise of insects will lure him
away several hundred yards, but always he sings, ‘““My heart’s in the
cattails.” Yellowthroat is a restless, active, little body, and he is
among the first to come forward when you enter the swamp. His method
is hide-and-seek and the game would all be his, if he did not reveal his
presence from time to time by a harsh accusing note, a sort of Polish,
consonantal explosion, wzschthub,—a sound not unlike that made by a
guitar string when struck above the stop. If you attempt to follow
the bird, the game ends in disappointment. But if the observer pauses,
curiosity gets the better of the bird, and he is soon seen peering out from
a neighboring bush, roguery only half hidden by his highwayman’s mask.
The female, having no mask, keeps to the background, but she is
not less interested than her mate in the progress of events. When the
scout returns to report, there is often a curious outbreak of discussion,
in which the husband, as like as not, finds it necessary to defend his
opinion with a perfect torrent of wzschthubs.
507
The Yellowthroats
Yellowthroat’s song is one of the few explicit things
in the swamp. Mounting a weed-stalk, he rubs out,
Rees'iwitte rees'iwitte, rit, or I beseech you, I beseech
you, I beseech. Rhythm is the chief characteristic
of this song, and although a given bird appears
to be confined to a single type, the variety of
‘feet’? offered by a swamp is most entertain-
ing. Chit'ooreet chit'ooreet chu’, heard on the
Taken in San Diego Counly
Photo by Donald R. Dickey
AN OBLIGING POSE
YOUNG TULE YELLOWTHROAT ON BROKEN
TULE STEM
edge of a northern pond,
reminded me of the Ken-
tucky Warbler (Oporornis
formosus);while another,
less ambitious, lisped,
O-tis twiss’-pe, o-tis twiss’
pe. Returning to the
typical rhythm, one in-
dignant swain near Los
ES?
NEST AND EGGS OF THE TULE YELLOWTHROAT
508
Taken in San Diego County Photo by Donald R. Dickey
q
The Yellowthroats
Angeles, shouted, Greas’y wittles, greas'y wittles, grit! The lady who
must have been responsible for this outburst had neglected to Hooverize.
But by far the most remarkable song in my experience came from
a locality in eastern Washington. We had just been listening to the
unwonted notes of a Desert Sparrow (Amphispiza bilineata deserticola)
some hundreds of miles out of its usual range, and were not unprepared
for shocks, when Hoo hee, chink i woo chu tip fell upon the ear. What!
a Slate-colored Sparrow here in the sage-brush! Or is it, maybe, a Vesper,
grown precise? Again and again came the measured accents, clear, strong,
and sweet. Not till I had seen the mandibles of a Western Yellow-
throat, and that repeatedly, moving in perfect rhythm to the music,
could I believe so small a bird the author of this song. For fifteen
minutes the Warbler brought forth this alien strain, Hee-o chiti wo,
chu tip, or Hee oo chitiwew chu tipew, without once lapsing into ordinary
dialect. Wherever did he get it?
Nests of the Yellowthroats are the commonplace of all swampy
localities—commonplace, yet never without interest, because of their
varied architecture and their diverse setting. A nest may be sunk
firmly into a damp tussock of grass barely clear of the ground or water,
or it may be lashed firmly to the stalks of an investing clump of cat-
tails, or it may be deftly hidden under a canopy of weed-tops a hundred
yards from water. The nest may be composed chiefly of brittle weathered
leaves of grass or sedge, so incoherent as to be scarcely removable, or
else it may be settled into a veritable fortress of coiled cattail leaves,
sturdy and dependable. The lining, too, may be of coiled grasses
almost as light in color as the speckled white eggs which they support,
or it may be of black horsehair, throwing the jewels into prized relief.
While fully two-thirds of all Yellowthroat nests are placed within
a stone’s throw of water and at levels not over three feet, an observer
in Lake County has given us a remarkable account! of the effect of
the heavy rains of 1903-4 upon the nesting at Clear Lake. The Yellow-
throats almost forswore nesting in the tules altogether, and sought
shelter both by elevation and by retreat from the water’s edge. Of
sixty nests examined between May 14th and July 12th, 1904, only
five were held to be typical. One pair of birds revamped a blackbird’s
nest for occupation. Another placed its nest hard against the side
of a dwelling house under cover of a protecting vine. Some, in their
panic, went as much as three hundred yards from water; and of the
tree-nesters the record pair built in a eucalyptus tree at a height of
nearly twenty-three feet above the ground.
1A. W. Johnson in ‘‘ The Condor,”’ Vol. VI., Sept., 1904, pp. 129-131.
DY)
The Western Chat
No. 99
Western Chat
A. O. U. No. 683a. Icteria virens longicauda Lawrence.
Synonym.—LONG-TAILED CHAT.
Description.—Adult male: Upperparts deep mouse-gray, usually lightly
glossed with olive-green; wings and tail brownish fuscous on exposed inner webs;
a broad line above lores and eye, a short maxillary stripe, extreme chin, and eye-ring,
white; enclosed area blackish mouse-gray, shading on cheeks into color of upperparts;
chin, throat, and breast, broadly, axillars and wing-linings, rich yellow, the color
abruptly defined on middle of breast from pure white of remaining underparts; flanks
shaded with brownish gray. Bill black; feet blackish. Male in autumn: As in
summer, with slight increase of olive-green above, and a suffusion of brownish across
crissum. Bill dark brown above, lighter below. Adult female: Like male in autumn
but somewhat duller; upperparts olive-brown rather than mouse-gray; pattern of head
less distinct; sides of breast tinged with olive-yellow; flanks more broadly olive-buffy.
Immature birds closely resemble the parents. Young birds are chiefly brownish olive
above, and white or smoky white below, with patchy irruptions of yellow. Length
171.5-184.2 (6.75-7.25); av. of 23 males (Ridgway): wing 79.1 (3.11); tail 81.4 (3.20);
bill 14.5 (.57); tarsus 26.5 (1.04). Females a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Strictly ‘Sparrow’ size; but because of bright color
having nearly size value of Towhee,—the largest of the warblers. Bright yellow breast
with contrasting white below, distinctive for size.
Nesting.— Nest: A bulky and often careless structure of coiled or interlaced
plant-stems and grasses, lined with finer grass or weed-bark or horsehair; set rather
carelessly in thick bush or small tree; averages 6 or 7 inches wide by 4 deep outside;
3 to 3% wide and 1% to 2 deep inside. Eggs: 3 or 4; white with a slight gloss, finely
sprinkled or boldly spotted, uniformly or with wreathed confluence, with reddish
brown (vinaceous russet to deep vinaceous brown) and vinaceous gray. Av. of 20
eggsin M. C. O. Coll.: 21.3 x 16.3 (.84 x .64). Season: First week in June; one brood,
Range of Icteria virens—United States and Mexico, south in winter to Central
America.
Range of J. v. longicauda.—Western United States and Mexico; breeding from
southern British Columbia, Montana, and North Dakota, south to Jalisco and Mexico;
winters on the tableland and west coast of Mexico from Chihuahua to Oaxaca.
Distribution in Californias—Common migrant at lower levels practically
throughout the State, summer resident of riparian associations in Lower and Upper
Sonoran and Lower Transition zones, on both sides of the Sierras, and practically
throughout the State, save as locally irregular or restricted.
Authorities.—Gambel (Jcteria viridis), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii.,
1847, p. 157 (Calif.); Lawrence (Icterta longicauda), Ann. Lyc. Nat. Hist. N. Y., vol. vi.,
1853, p. 4 (orig. desc.; from ‘‘California’’) ; Cowes, Birds Col. Val., 1878, p. 316 (structural
characters, habits, song, etc.); Grinnell, Condor, vol. xiv., 1912, p. 106 (song).
STRUCTURALLY allied to the Wood Warblers, the Chat has yet
such a temperamental affinity with the Catbird, that it is difficult, for me
510
The Western Chat
at least, to dissociate the two birds in thought. Both love the thickets;
both excel in song; both plague their neighbors by mimicry; and both alike
are dearly provoking bundles of contradictions. The Chat is, perhaps, the
greater buffoon, as he is certainly the more handsomely dressed of the
two. Beyond this we must consider him on his own merits.
Ten to one you know him, if at all, only as a voice, a tricksy bush-
whacker of song, an elusive mystery of the thicket; or you have uncon-
sciously ascribed his productions to half a dozen mythical birds at once.
But look more closely. It is well worth the quest to be able to resolve
this genius of roguery. Be assured he knows you well enough, by sight,
for he does not poke and pry and spy for nothing, in the intervals of song.
He has still the proverbial curiosity of woman. Seat yourself in the
thicket, and when you hear the mellow, saucy Kook, with its whistled
vowel, bounded by consonants barely thought of, imitate it. You will
have the bird up in arms at once. Awook, returns the bird, starting to-
ward you. Repeat it, and you have won. The bird scents a rival and he
will leave no stem unclasped but he finds him. As the bird alternately
squints and stares from the brush, note the rich warbler olive of his upper-
parts, the gorgeous yellow of the throat and breast, the white brow-stripe
and the malar dash, offset by black and darker olive. It is a warbler in
color-pattern, a Yellow-throat done larger, but waggish, furtive, impudent,
and resourceful beyond any other of his kind.
The full song of the Chat is usually delivered from some elevation, a
solitary tree rearing itself above dense cover. The music almost defies
analysis, for it is full of surprises, vocal somersaults, and whimsy turns.
Its cadence is ragtime, and its richest phrases are punctuated by flippant
jests and droll parentheses. Even in the tree-top the singer clings closely
to the protecting greenery, whence he pitches headlong into the thicket at
the slightest intimation of approach.
The love song of the Chat, the so-called “dropping song,”’ is one of the
choicest of avian comedies, for it is acted as well as sung. The performer
flings himself into mid-air, flutters upward for an instant with head up-
raised and legs abjectly dangling, then slowly sinks on hovering wing, with
tail swinging up and down like a mad pump-handle,—Punch, as Cupid,
smitten with the mortal sickness. And all this while the zany pours out
a flood of tumultuous and heart-rending song. He manages to recover as
he nears the brush, and his fianceé evidently approves this sort of buf-
foonery.
The Chat is a skilled mimic. I have traced the notes of such diverse
species as Bullock Oriole, Slender-billed Nuthatch, and Magpie to his door.
Once, down on the Rio Grande, we rapped on a vine-covered cottonwood
stump to dislodge a Flicker that had been shrieking K/yak at us for some
SII
’
The Western Chat
Photo by the Author
:
Taken in Sacramento
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN CHAT
minutes past, and we flushed a snickering Chat, instead.
It is perhaps as a singer of the night that one finds the versatile Chat
most impressive. The bird has no compunction about awakening a
tired ornithologist; and the prudent camper will, therefore, measure his
hours so as to allow for several nocturnal interruptions. It is that incur-
able malady of the heart again! Chaucer might have said of our hero as
he did of the knight:
“So hote he loved that by the nightertale
He slep na more than doth the nightingale.”’
Be that as it may, the Western Chat will assail the midnight with gut-
tural reproaches, explosive cackles, cat-calls and shrieks until the would-be
sleeper is fairly frenzied. Then the bird will pour on a sudden ointment
of sound in tones of richest ravishment. The mollified sleeper sinks to
rest again amidst a silence palpable.
Skilled minstrel though he is, the Western Chat, like the eastern bird,
has small taste for architecture. A careless mass of dead leaves and
coarse grasses is assembled in a bush at a height of three or four feet; and
a lining of finer grasses, when present at all, is so distinct as to permit of
removal without injury to the bulk of the structure. From three to five
eggs are laid, and so jealously guarded that the birds are said to destroy
the eggs once visited by man. So cautious are the Chats that even after
512
a
The Western Chat
aS¢ AMD BESS OF WESTERN CHAT
olden Warbler 2
hes wast. and we flushed < , instead.
ates smickepi
be ie pe Hhaps as a singer of the out He a cet one finds the versatile Chat
BIVe. bird has no compunction about awakening a
<thoalogiet; and the prudent camper will, therefore, measure his
dnaary « a8 be allow for several nocturnal interruptions. It is that incur-
«alety of the heart again! Chaucer might have said of our hero as
“Se hate he loved that by the nightertale
‘ic step ma more than doth the nightingale.’
) 46 2 may, the Western Chat will assail the midnight with gut-
steal woweuetses, mxplosive cackles,cat-calls and shrieks until the would-be
tiovtee fariv tvenzied. Then the bird will pour on a sudden ointment
oh stat 4h Somes of richest ravishment. The mollified sleeper sinks to
euyint a site “nace palpable.
ough he is, the Western Chat, like the eastern bird,
iitecture, A careless mass of dead leaves and
i , bias at a height of three or four feet; and
ezent at afl, is so distinet as to permit of
ike yet ons structure. From three to five
said to destroy
ube Chats that even after
qobiedt im 2
tat the bee Ge are
The Wilson Warblers
the young have hatched out, they take care not to be seen in the vicinity
of their nest, but a low, anxious chuck sometimes escapes from the harassed
mother in a neighboring thicket.
No. 100
Wilson’s Warbler
No. 100a Alaska Pileolated Warbler
A. O. U. No. 685a. Wilsonia pusilla pileolata (Pallas).
Description.—A dult male: Above bright olive-green (warbler green) ; forehead,
sides of head, and underparts bright yellow, shading on sides into color of back; crown
or ‘‘cap’’ lustrous black; wings and tail fuscous, edged with olive-green and without
peculiar marks. Bill dark above, light below; feet light brown. Adultfemale: Simi-
lar, but the black cap sometimes wanting—dark olive veiled by warbler green tips
instead. Immature: Like respective sex of parents, but black of cap sometimes
variously, or even completely, veiled by olive-green. Both sexes in autumn suffer some
veiling of black crown by olive-green tips. Length about 120.6 (4.75); wing 56 (2.20)
tail 50 (1.97); bill 8.5 (.33); tarsus 18.8 (.74).
Recognition Marks.—Least—pygmy size; black cap of male distinctive;
recognizable in any plumage by small size and greenish yellow coloration. Brighter
than W. p. pusilla; not so bright as W. p. chryseola.
Nesting.—Does not breed in California. Nest and eggs much as in next form.
Range of Wilsonia pusilla—North America, breeding chiefly north of the United
States, save in the Rocky Mountain region and in the Pacific Coast states; winters
in Mexico and Central America.
Range of W. p. pileolata—Western North America, breeding in Boreal zones
from northern Alaska, south upon the Pacific slopes to Queen Charlotte Island, and
upon the east side of the Sierra-Cascade system through eastern Oregon and eastern
California and along the Rocky Mountains to northern New Mexico and western
Texas; wintering from north central Mexico to Panama.
Distribution in California.—Fairly common migrant through southern Cali-
fornia, especially east of the desert divide. Also breeds in the mountain ranges east
of the Sierras and for an undetermined distance northward. Possibly the line of
demarcation between pileolata and chryseola should be arbitrarily set at the Sierran
divide.
Authority.—Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. II, 1915, p. 152.
THE PERVADING yellowness of this little bush-ranger will hardly
serve to distinguish it from the equally common Lutescent Warbler,
unless you are able to catch sight of its tiny silken crown-patch of black,—
the “‘little cap’ which gives the bird its Latin-sounding name. With
513
The Wilson Warblers
chryseola it is the smallest of our warblers, and during migrations it is one
of the commonest, especially east of the Sierras. Pzleolata appears in the
lowlands of the San Diegan district and upon the great deserts by the
middle of April; but its northern movement is quite leisurely, and loiterers
may be encountered anywhere up to June Ist, and even later in the north-
ern portion of the State. Grinnell surmises that this race breeds in
Modoc County, but I failed to find a single example in the Warner Moun-
tains between June 7 and July 12; so pending discovery of an actual nest,
I must beg to consider the question open.
Partly because of his unseasonable dalliance, this tiny golden frag-
ment becomes one of the most conspicuous of migrants in certain sections.
Life is a great adventure anyway, and the migratory flight, undertaken
before family cares have become a factor in the bird’s life, is a rollicking,
care-free quest. The Pileolated Warblers, therefore, range higher in the
trees during migration than is their midsummer wont. At the lower levels
they swarm over the mesquite of the desert oases, or the willow trees of
the river bottoms; and the pines know their coming as well as do the
huckleberry thickets, which will ultimately swallow them up in the far
north. As they go, they “work” their passage most conscientiously, for as
Coues says:! ‘““They peer into the crevices of the bark, scrutinize each leaf,
and explore the very heart of the buds, to detect, drag forth and destroy
those tiny creatures, singly insignificant, collectively a scourge, which prey
upon the hopes of the fruit-grower, and which, if undisturbed, would bring
his care to nought.”
No. 100b Golden Warbler
A. O. U. No. 685b. Wilsonia pusilla chryseola Ridgway.
Synonym.—GOLDEN PILEOLATED WARBLER (properly so-called, but the bird,
because of its local abundance, deserves the shorter name. Moreover, although ‘‘golden”’
is the commonest color among the Warblers, the name has not been pre-empted).
Description.—‘‘Similar to W. p. pileolata, but slightly smaller and much more
brightly colored; olive-green of upperparts much more yellowish, almost olive-yellow
in extreme examples; yellow of forehead and superciliary region (especially the former)
inclining more or less to orange; yellow of underparts purer, more intense”’ (Ridgway).
Length of adult males (skins) 110.5 (4.35); wing 55.4 (2.18); tail 49.1 (1.93); bill 8.3
(.327); tarsus 18.2 (.72).
Recognition Marks.—As in preceding; brighter.
Nesting.— Nest: A firmly knit, but bulky and often almost spherical mass
of felted grasses and mosses, lined with finest grasses, rootlets, moss, or finely shredded
bark or hair; set carelessly among ferns, or in low bushes or briary tangles. A splendid
moss-ball from Eureka measures 6 inches in width by 5 in depth outside, while the
1Birds of the Colorado Valley, p. 201.
514
The Wilson Warblers
dainty cup sunk into the top measures only 154 inches in width by 114 in depth (mm
41.3 x 28.6). Another only half as large is composed almost entirely of fine bark-
strips. Eggs: 3 or 4; white (or, rarely, with a pale vinaceous buffy suffusion derived
from the applied pigment), spotted and dotted generously or sparingly with reddish
brown (cameo-brown or walnut-brown) with the usual tendency toward the formation
of wreaths and cloud-caps. Av. of 40 eggs in the M. C. O. Coll.: 16.3 x 12.2 (.64 x
.48). Season: April and June; two broods, possibly at different levels.
Range of W. p. chryseola—Summer resident in the Pacific Coast district from
southern British Columbia to southern California; winters in Lower California, Sonora,
and Chihuahua; occurs during migrations on the east side of the Sierro-Cascade divide
and in Arizona. E
Distribution in California.—Common migrant, less common east of the Si-
erran divide; summer resident, chiefly in semi-riparian associations in Lower Sonoran
and Canadian zones, from the crest of the Sierras to the Pacific, and from the Oregon
line south to the San Bernardino Mountains,—or even central western San Diego
County. Note: Grinnell’s surmise (Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. I1, p. 152) that the
Transition zone is taboo to this bird as a breeder can be only suggestively considered.
I have encountered the species during the breeding season at the following points,
all well within Transition: Ben Lomond (Santa Cruz County), Cazadero Redwoods
(Mendocino County), Eureka and Trinidad (Humboldt County). In fact, W. p.
chryseola is one of the commonest breeding species of the coastal section of Humboldt
County, indubitable Transition.
Authorities.—Gambel (Sylvania pusilla), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser.
2, i., 1847, p. 38, part (Calif.); Barlow, Nidiologist, vol. i., 1893, p. 44 (nesting habits) ;
Ridgway, U. S. Nat. Mus., Bull. no. 50, part 2, 1902, p. 714 (orig. desc.; type locality
Red Bluff, Calif., according to A. O. U. Check-List, 1910, p. 325); Beal, U. S. Dept.
Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 30, 1907, p. 51 (food).
THIS DAINTY little warbler is perhaps the most characteristic, as
it is one of the best distributed of all the Mnzotiltide in California. Rang-
ing, as it does, practically from sea-level to timberline in the high Sierras,
it nevertheless avoids most of the middle levels of the drier Transition
areas. Just why the bird should “‘skip from thar to thar’’ is not quite
clear until one begins to realize its fondness for dull weather and relatively
low temperatures. In this respect the Canadian-Boreal Zone of the
Sierras resembles somewhat that portion of the coastal area whose tem-
peratures are regulated by “high fog’”’ or rains; and in these two regions
the Golden Warbler dwells. Most grateful of all, perhaps, is the semi-
humid coastal area of Santa Cruz County, and the frankly humid stretches
of Humboldt and Del Norte counties. The Golden Warbler is certainly
one of the most abundant birds in the last-named section, and its golden
flittings not only dominate the fern levels but extend upward into the
mossy arms of the evergreens. A brilliant dress does not appear to endan-
ger the life of this little despot, for he is quite too insignificant for notice
among the Knights of Claw and Jaw, and so he flashes in and out, scolds,
sings, and meditates, by turns, without molestation.
Nor is there any lack of interest in the life of this golden midget. Have
515
The Wilson Warblers
you never wished that you were tiny—oh, teeny—with beady black eyes,
that you might explore the mysteries of a moss forest? that elderberries
might look to you like great blue pippins? and madrone berries like lus-
cious fiery pumpkins? that you might pluck a thousand sapid meats at
first hand where now you know only a few “‘staples,”’ disguised by the
meretricious arts of cookery? That you might—Ah, here I have you!—
that you might pantingly pursue a golden maiden down dim forest aisles,
over plunging billows of spirea blossoms, past corridors of giant sword-
fern, into—Oh, where is that maddening creature? She’s given me the
slip again! Never mind; I’ll pause and sing: oo000é é é é é é é é 00000.
Truth to tell, the song just recorded is one of the rarest,—a perfectly
modulated swell of sharp staccato notes of little resonance, but greater
power and intensity. The ordinary song is a series of monosyllables,
uttered with increasing emphasis, chip chip CuHIp CHIP CHIP CHIP. The
singer is very much in earnest, and compels attention in spite of his utter
lack of musical ability. Late in August, the 26th it was, I provoked a
Black-cap by screeping, until he sang merely to relieve his feelings, chip
cHip CHIP cup chip chip chip, the precise type of the Pileolated Warbler,
W. p. pileolata proper. The only other variant in my collection is tsew
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
NEST AND EGGS OF GOLDEN WARBLER
516
Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author
A GLIMPSE OF A GOLDEN WARBLER
The Wilson Warblers
tsew tsew tsee tsee tsee whhhack-
ity,—the last note, somewhat
whimsically represented here,
being an intense guttural trill
very difficult to characterize.
In the Monterey section
this bird nests abundantly
throughout the brush-cov-
ered areas tributary to
streams; and it is especially
partial to the shelter of black-
berry vines. Mr. O. P. Silli-
man, of Salinas, who prob-
ably has had more experience
with the Golden Pileolated
Warbler than any other liv-
ing collector, tells me that as
a lad he has taken as many
as ten sets in a single morn-
ing “‘on the way to school”
near the Pajaro River. He
found them nesting in late or
middle April, and again in later May. A nest before me from this section
is made of materials culled from river drift,—dirt-incrusted twigs, root-
lets, and macerated bark, together with the wastage of trees,—leaf skeletons,
catkins, and the like. The lining is of fine rootlets, skeletonized leaves,
and a few strands of horsehair. This structure represents an enormous
amount of labor; but it is quite outdone by an exquisite moss-ball from
Humboldt County, which was collected by John M. Davis, of Eureka.
This was placed two feet high in a cluster of ferns, and consists of little
else than most exquisitely compacted moss, with walls over an inch in
thickness. I cut through one side of this nest with a razor, intending
to count its component strands, but I was appalled by the task presented
and promptly sewed it up again. This birdie assuredly has more time
than a busy bird-man. And it is a satisfaction to know that when one
home is requisitioned in the name of science, another as exquisite is pre-
pared within a week or ten days.
Such birds as are impelled to nest along the willow-lined streams
of the San Diegan district appear to adjourn to the higher levels for the
summer session. Whether, indeed, any pair of birds of any species does
nest twice in the same season at different levels, is an open question. All
517
The American Redstart
indications certainly point that way, but we shall never know for sure
until leg-banded specimens are traced.
No. 101
American Redstart
A. O. U. No. 687. Setophaga ruticilla (Linnzus).
Description.—Adult male: Head and neck all around, breast and upperparts,
glossy black, shading on wings and tail into glossless brownish black; a large patch on
sides of breast, sides, axillars, lining of wings, basal half of secondaries, and basal portion
of primaries upon outer edge, coalescing in a conspicuous patch, and basal two-thirds
of tail (except central pair of rectrices) reddish orange, the color purest and deepest
(mikado orange) on breast-patches and axillars, elsewhere paler (capucine orange);
lower breast, belly and crissum sordid whitish or grayish, more or less tinged with
orange; under tail-coverts broadly tipped with dusky. Bill blackish; feet dark brown.
Adult female: Quite different: the orange patches of male replaced by dull yellow—
wax-yellow on breast spots; amber-yellow, straw-yellow, or barium-yellow elsewhere;
head above, shading on sides, deep mouse-gray; remaining upperparts olive or yel-
lowish olive; remaining underparts white or dull buffy white. Immature male: Like
adult female. This plumage is usually held through the first spring, and is then
distinguished from that of adult female by some irruption of black on breast, by a lesser
exposure of yellow on wing, and sometimes by increase of yellow on breast. Im-
mature female: Much like adult female, but yellow patch of wing reduced in area of
exposure or entirely covered. Length of adult 127-146.1 (5.00-5.75); wing 65.8 (2.59);
tail 55.1 (2.17); bill 9.1 (.36); tarsus 18 (.71). Females average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Medium warbler size; black with salmon-red and sal-
mon patches of male; similar pattern and duller colors of female and young; tail usually
half open and prominently displayed, whether in sport or in ordinary flight.
Nesting.—Not known to breed in California, but possibly does so. Nest:
in the fork of a sapling, from five to fifteen feet up, of hemp and other vegetable fibers,
fine bark, and grasses, lined with fine grasses, plant-down and horsehair. Eggs:
4 or 5; greenish-, bluish-, or grayish-white, dotted and spotted, chiefly about larger
end, with cinnamon-rufous or olive-brown. Av. size 17.3 x 13 (.68 x .51). Season:
June; one brood.
General Range.—Temperate North America in general, regularly north to
Nova Scotia, the Mackenzie River (Fort Simpson), etc., west to southern Alaska,
British Columbia, eastern Washington, Utah, etc., casual in eastern Oregon, northern
California, and in the southeastern states; breeding from the middle portion of the
United States northward; south in winter throughout West Indies, Mexico and
Central America to northern South America.
Occurrence in California.—A little-known visitor, casual or rare; four pub-
lished records as follows: Haywards, a male (taken), June 20, 1881, by W. O. Emer-
son; Marysville Buttes, male (seen), June 6, 1884, by Lyman Belding; Pasadena,
female (found dead), Dec. 27, 1905, by P. I. Osburn; Farallon Islands, a 2nd year
51S
The American Redstart
male (seen), June 1, 1911, by W. L. Dawson. To these I may add a rather regret-
ably unsatisfactory glimpse of a bird, also a young male, obtained in northern Men-
docino County, June 14, 1916, when in company with A. G. Vrooman.
Authorities.—Emerson, Zoe, vol. 1, 1890, p. 45 (Haywards, June 20, 1880,
one spec.); Belding, Land Birds Pac. Dist., 1890, p. 222 (Marysville Buttes, June 6,
1884, one spec.); Osburn, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 102 (Pasadena, Dec. 27, 1905, one
spec.); Dawson, Condor, vol. xili., 1911, p. 182 (Farallon Ids., June 1, 1911, one spec.).
THE REDSTART is the presiding genius of eastern woodland and
grove, and because he is only casual with us we are going to depart from
our usual custom and snatch a glance at an eastern page.! “He is a bit
of a tyrant among the birds, and among his own kind is exceedingly
sensitive upon the subject of metes and bounds. As for the insect world,
he rules it with a rod of iron. See him as he moves about through a file
of slender poplars. He flits restlessly from branch to branch, now peering
up at the under surface of a leaf, now darting into the air to secure a
heedless midge and closing upon it with an emphatic snap, now spreading
the tail in pardonable vanity or from sheer exuberance of spirits; but
ever and anon pausing just long enough to squeeze out a half-scolding
song. The paler-colored female, contrary to the usual wont, is not less
active nor less noticeable than the male, except as she is restrained
for a season by the duties of incubation. She is even believed to sing
a little on her own account, not because her mate does not sing enough
for two, but because she—well, for the same reason that a woman whistles,
—and good luck to her!
“During the mating season great rivalries spring up, and males
will chase each other about in most bewildering mazes, like a pair of
great fire-flies, and with no better weapons—fighting fire with fire.
When the nesting site is chosen the male is very jealous of intruders, and
bustles up in a threatening fashion, which quite overawes most birds of
guileless intent.
“Redstart’s song is sometimes little better than an emphatescent
squeak. At other times his emotion fades after the utterance of two
or three notes, and the last one dies out. A more pretentious effort is
represented by Mr. Chapman as ‘Ching, ching, chee; ser-wee, swee, swee-
e-e-e. Many variations from these types may be noted, and I once
mistook the attempt of a colorless young stripling of one summer for
that of a Pileolated Warbler.”
The ancestral home of the Redstart was Mexico, but this species
seems to have reached its northwestern range, in Utah, Idaho, and
eastern Washington, by overflowing from the saturated East through
the Rocky Mountains. Doubtless the western residents now find
1“The Birds of Ohio,”’ p. 196.
519
The Western Martin
their way up and down on the “‘left hand side” of the Rockies, but the
three or four stragglers taken in California appear to have been members
of lost companies of easterners, rather than scouts of a new migration
route. Thus, a second year male, observed on the Farallons, June Ist,
I9II, was associated with Magnolia Warbler, Black-throated Green
Warbler, Ovenbird and other waifs.
No. 102
Western Martin
A. O. U. No. 611a. Progne subis hesperia Brewster.
Description.—Adult male: Rich violet bluish black, glossy and metallic
(never ‘‘purple’’); wings and tail dead black. Adult female: Somewhat similar to
male, but upperparts chiefly sooty gray, the blue-black element present in variable
amount as broad plating of feather-tips, notably on crown, scapulars, wing-coverts
and upper tail-coverts; some indication of paler collar across nape; breast, broadly,
lighter sooty gray, with darker mesial streaks and much whitish edging; forehead,
sides of neck, and throat sooty gray, still more overspread with whitish; belly and
crissum dull white; the lower breast white with sharp mesial streaks of sooty gray.
Bill black, stout, and broad at 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 184.2-215.9
(7.25-8.50); av. of 8 specimens: wing 146.1 (5.75); tail 73 (2.87); bill 11.7 (.46); tarsus
15 (.59). Females average smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Towhee size; the largest of the swallows; blue-black,
or blue-black and sooty gray coloration.
Nesting.— Nest: Of leaves, grass, and trash, sometimes lined with fine green
leaves; in some cavity, as old woodpecker holes, etc., or in crannies about buildings.
Eggs: 4 or 5, rarely 6; elongate ovate; pure, glossy white, unmarked. Av. size 24.9
x 18.5 (.98 x .73). Season: First week in June; one brood.
Range of Progne subis—North and South America, breeding from the southern
British Provinces to Mexico, and wintering in Brazil.
Range of P. s. hesperia—Summer resident in the Pacific Coast district, broadly,
from British Columbia to Cape San Lucas; winter range undefined.
Distribution in California.—Fairly common migrant throughout the State;
summer resident of very local distribution, in sections offering nesting facilities; hence,
practically confined to timbered areas, save as found (increasingly?) in cities and
towns.
Authorities.—Bonaparte (Progne purpurea), Compte Rendu, xxxviii., 1854,
p. 650 (Calif.); Barlow, Condor, vol. iii., 1901, p. 174 (Placerville and Slippery Ford,
breeding); Willett, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 7, 1912, p. 89 (status in s. Calif.).
THOSE to whom the Purple Martin (Progne subis) of the East is
one of the most familiar objects of springtime, are surprised to note the
scarcity, one might almost say rarity, of this species in the West. While
520
The Western Martin
it is of necessity “‘fairly common’’! where it is found at all, being a sociable
bird, one who has traversed the State counts up with dismay the ‘‘record
stations,’ and concludes that it is quite the rarest of the swallows—in
aggregate, I should say not above one ten-thousandth of the total formed
by our seven species.
Curiously enough, our Martin is chiefly found in its native fast-
nesses,—a pine tree riddled and deserted by Lewis Woodpeckers affording
it shelter on the banks of Eagle Lake; a doughty oak back in the hills
beyond Paso Robles; or both pines and oaks together on the lower ridges
of the San Jacinto range. In such situations the birds seem to be quite
dependent for their lodgings upon the services of the larger woodpeckers;
and it may be a scarcity of these necessary accommodations, or perhaps
an unwillingness on the part of the woodpeckers to rent them, which
has kept the species down.
April Ist is the earliest date I have for the arrival of the Martins
in California, and a week later is nearer the average; but Mr. Belding
has a record of March Ist (1879) for Stockton, and half a dozen others
for the first week in March. Their movements depend largely upon the
weather; and even if they have come back early, they are willing to mope
indoors when the weather is chilly or disagreeable. The Martins feed
exclusively on insects, and are thus at the mercy of a backward season.
Not only flies and gnats are consumed, but moths, wasps, grasshoppers,
dragon-flies, and some of the larger predatory beetles as well.
The birds mate soon after arrival; and for a home, if in town, 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. Rath-
bun, of Seattle, found a nest which was composed entirely of wood shav-
ings mixed with string and fragments of the woven sheath which covers
electric light wires. The haunts of men are in no wise shunned, and
there is no reason why houses should not be provided for the Martins,
as is the custom in the older East. Even the Indian sagamores of the
Five Nations used to hang out gourds for their feathered friends; and if
our western aborigines, the Diggers and the Piutes, were less thoughtful,
we shall have to work a little harder, that is all. Architects not yet
overawed by fear of the English Sparrow sometimes exhibit a com-
mendable negligence and leave recesses which please the eye as well as
the birds. Thus, an observer in Pasadena? noted the successive occu-
pation by Martins of the eaves of the Maryland Hotel until they
1“ Fairly common summer resident, locally’’—Willett: ‘‘ Birds of the Pacific Slope of Southern California,” p. 89.
2 A son of Geo. Priestly. See‘‘Condor,”’ Vol. XI., p. 208. Also ‘‘The Oologist,’’ Vol. XX XII., No. 9, p. 153-
521
The Western Martin
numbered thirty pairs. Likewise the birds, a dozen of them now, which
haunt the ample cornices of the new Federal Building in Santa Barbara,
are a source of never-ending delight to the public.
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 is 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.
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 occurs from time to time, and any of the notes seem to require con-
siderable effort on the part of the performer.
Our information regarding the Western Martin is, truth to tell,
still quite inadequate. In dealing with any western analogue of a species
so well known in the East as is the Purple Martin, we are under constant
temptation to transfer impressions or to neglect opportunities for local
study. Thus, it may be presumed that the Western Martin is somewhat
pugnacious, that it defends the colony courageously by driving predatory
birds out of bounds, that it contends with bluebirds and wrens and
woodpeckers and other swallows for possession of nesting holes; but of
all this the notes are silent, and there is never a line in print.
Just for honesty’s sake, the author will share with his readers ver-
batim et literatim the only field notes entered in his files for a period
of five years:
Western Martin. San Luts Obispo County, April 5, Tor2.
Half a dozen pairs of them hanging about the top of a giant oak
back in the hills on the Sacramento Ranch. The upper limbs were
perforated with holes, and there was much voluble discussion of nest-
building to be heard. An idyllic spot and a grateful revelation of the
primitive taste of this all too sophisticated bird.
Lassen County, June 4, 1912.
A pair of these blessed birds have made their home in a hollow limb
of a great pine tree standing in the middle of the road overlooking Honey
Lake, and their amiable gurglings and twitterings are a comfort to the
waytfarer.
Shandon Country, Valley of the San Juan, April 17, Tor4.
Cooka picka pooka pooka coo, gurgles a Western Martin as he passes
up-stream in the eye of a beautiful morning. What a happy, amiable
body he is, the Martin! And how much more in keeping with a blithe
spirit is this noble wilderness than are the sordid haunts of men!
Bye)
<=
pee
j
ro Ta :
a it
pee:
oe,
a ie
sea Sp
een te te
PEW
i beeraiDerin
Pete
ae
ot
a
Maghantiyy
s Sora a
vin 8,