PRESENTED TO ST. PATRICK'S SEMINARY LIBRARY BY HIS EXCELLENCY THE MOST REVEREND ARCHBISHOP JOHN J. MITTY, D. D. / NUNC COGNOSCO EX PARTE TRENT UNIVERSITY LIBRARY PRESENTED IN MEMORY OF REG CHANDLER «s -*• ■**■■''**■* <■■• ** «*. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from Kahle/Austin Foundation https://archive.org/details/birdsofcaliforni0003daws The Birds of California Copy No. Patrons' Edition, De Luxe Wings— A Study of Western Gulls From a photograph, copyright 1923, by IV . L. Davison Taken on Redondo Pier 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 Oology , 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 1 100 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 no Full-page Color Plates Chiefly by Major Allan Brooks Format De Fuxe Patrons’ Edition Complete in Four Volumes Folume Three 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, COPYRIGHT I923 BY William Leon Dawson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION Contents of Volume III PAGE List of Full-page Plates . x\\{ Description of Species Nos. 202-307 Family Picidce — (Continued). 202 The Gila Woodpecker, Centurus uropygialis uropygialis . io^S 203 The Yellow-shafted Flicker, Colaptes auratus borealis . 1037 204 The Red-shafted Flickers, Colaptes caper . 1039 205 The Mearns Gilded Flicker, Colaptes chrysoides mearnsi . 1047 Order Coraciiformes — Roller-like Birds. Family Alcedinidce — Kingfisher. 206 The Western Belted Kingfisher, Megaceryle alcyon caurina. . . 1049 Order Caprimulgiformes — Goatsuckers, etc. Family Caprimulgidce — Goatsuckers, Nighthawks. 207 The Poorwills, Phalcenoptilus nuttalli . 1053 208 The Pacific Nighthawk, Chordeiles minor hesperis . 1059 209 The Texas Nighthawk, Chordeiles acutipennis texensis . 1064 Order Striges — Owls. Family Tytonidce — Barn Owls. 210 The American Barn Owl, Tyto perlata pratincola . 1070 Family Strigidce — Other Owls. 21 1 The Long-eared Owl, Asio otus wilsonianus . 1080 212 The Short-eared Owl, Asio fiammeus . 1087 213 The Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis . 1090 214 The Great Gray Owl, Scotiaptex nebulosa nebulosa . 1096 215 The Saw-whet Owl, Cryptoglaux acadica . 1099 216 The Screech Owls, Otus asio . 1101 217 The Flammulated Screech Owl, Otus flammeolus . 1109 218 The Horned Owls, Bubo virginianus . m2 219 The Snowy Owl, Nyctea nyctea . 1 1 19 220 The Burrowing Owl, Speotyto cunicularia hypogcea . 1120 vii PAGE 22 1 The Pygmy Owls, Glaucidium gnoma . 1128 222 The Arizona Elf Owl, Micropallas whitneyi whitneyi . 1133 Order Coccyges — Cuckoos. Fam i 1 y Cuculidce — Cu ckoos . 223 The Road-runner, Geococcyx calif ornianus . 1137 224 The California Cuckoo, Coccyzus americanus occidentalis . 1148 Order Columbiformes -Pigeons. Family Columbidce — Pigeons, Doves. 225 The Band-tailed Pigeon , Chlorosnas fasciata fasciata . 1153 226 The Western Mourning Dove, Zenaidura macroura mar- ginella . 1 1 59 227 The Western White-winged Dove, Melopelia asiatica mearnsi . 1165 228 The Mexican Ground Dove, Chcemepelia passer in a pallescens . 1168 Order Charadriiformes — Plover-like Birds. Family Phalaropodidce — Phalaropes. 229 The Red Phalarope, Phalaropus fulicarius . 1171 230 The Northern Phalarope, Lobipes lobatus . 1178 231 The Wilson Phalarope, Steganopus tricolor . 1184 Family Recurvirostridce — Avocets, Stilts. 232 The American Avocet, Recurvirostra americana . 1191 233 The Black-necked Stilt, Himantopus mexicanus . 1204 Family Scolopacidce — Snipe. 234 The Wilson Snipe, Capella gallinago delicata . 1215 235 The Long-billed Dowitcher, Limnodromus griseus scolopaceus . 1221 236 The Knot, Canutus canutus . 1228 237 The Sharp-tailed Sandpiper, Pisobia acuminata . 1230 238 The Pectoral Sandpiper, Pisobia maculata . 1231 239 The Baird Sandpiper, Pisobia bairdi . 1235 240 The Least Sandpiper, Pisobia minutilla . 1238 241 The Red-backed Sandpiper, Pelidna alpina sakhalina . 1243 242 The Western Sandpiper, Ereunetes mauri . 1246 243 The Sanderling, Crocethia alba . 1253 244 The Marbled Godwit , Limosa fedoa . 1258 245 The Greater Yellowlegs, N eo glottis melanoleuca . 1263 viii PAGE 246 The Lesser Yellowlegs, Neoglottis flavipes . 1266 247 The Western Solitary Sandpiper, Tringa solitaria cinnamo- mea . 1268 248 The Western Willet, Catoptrophorus semipalmatus inornatus . . 1271 249 The Wandering Tattler, Ileteroscelus incanus . 1274 250 The Bartramian Sandpiper, Bartramia longicauda . 1277 251 The Spotted Sandpiper, Actitis macularia . 1278 252 The Long-billed Curlew, Numenius americanus . 1282 253 The Hudsonian Curlew, Phceopus hudsonicus . 1285 Family Char ad riidce — Plovers. 254 The Black-bellied Plover, Squatarola squatarola . 1290 255 The American Golden Plover, Pluvialis dominions dominions.. 1296 256 The Killdeer, Oxyechus vociferus vociferus . 1299 257 The Semipalmated Plover, Charadrius semipalmatus . 1310 258 The Snowy Plover, Charadrius nivosus nivosus . 1314 259 The Belding Plover, Pagolla wilsonia beldingi . 1328 260 The Mountain Plover, Podasocys montanus . 1329 Family Aphrizidce — Surf-birds. 261 The Surf-bird , Aphriza virgata . 1333 Fam i 1 y A ren a riidce — T urnstones . 262 The Turnstones, A renaria inter pres . 1337 263 The Black Turnstone, Arenaria melanocephala . 1342 Family llcematopodidce — Oyster-catchers. 264 The Frazar Oyster-catcher, Hcematopus palliatus frazari . 1345 265 The Black Oyster-catcher, Hcematopus bachmani . 1346 Order Lariformes — Gull-like Birds. Family Stercorariidce — Skuas, Jaegers. 266 The South American Skua, Catharacta chilensis . C353 267 The Pomarine Jaeger, Stercorarius pomarinus . 1355 268 The Parasitic Jaeger, Stercorarius parasiticus . 1 357 269 The Long-tailed Jaeger, Stercorarius longicaudus . !36° Family Lari dee — Gulls. 270 Pacific Kittiwake, Rissa tridactyla pollicaris . 1361 271 The Glaucous Gull, Larus hyperboreus . 1 3^3 272 The Iceland Gull, Larus leucopterus . 03^5 IX PAGE Family Laridce — (Continued). 273 The Glaucous-winged Gull, Larus glaucescens . 1366 274 The Western Gulls, Larus occidentalis . 1376 275 The Herring Gull, Larus argentatus argentatus . 1394 276 The California Gull, Larus calif ornicus . 1398 277 The Ring-hilled Gull , Larus delawarensis . 1413 278 The Short-billed Gull, Larus canus brachyrhynchus . 1418 279 The Franklin Gull, Chroicocephalus franklini . 1420 280 The Bonaparte Gull, Chroicocephalus Philadelphia . 1422 281 The Heermann Gull, Blasipus heermanni . 1428 282 The Sabine Gull, Xema sabini . 1433 Family Sternidce — Terns. 283 The Caspian Tern, ILydroprogne caspia . 1435 284 The Royal Tern, Thalasseus maximus . 1439 285 The Elegant Tern, Thalasseus elegans . 1441 286 The Forster Tern, Sterna forsteri . 1443 287 The Common Tern, Sterna hirundo . 1448 288 The Arctic Tern, Sterna paradiscea . 1450 289 The Least Tern, Sternula antillarum browni . *453 290 The Black Tern, Chlidonias nigra surinamensis . 1460 Order Alciformes — Auk-like Birds. Family Asthiidce — Auklets. 291 The Cassin Auklet, Ptychoramphus aleuticus . 1467 292 The Paroquet Auklet, Phaleris psittacula . 1474 Family Cepphidtz — Guillemots. 293 The Pigeon Guillemot, Cepphus columba . 1475 Family Brachyramphidce — Murrelets. 294 The Ancient Murrelet, Synthliboramphus antiquus . 1481 295 The Marbled Murrelet, Brachyramphus marmoratus . 1484 296 The Xantus Murrelet, Endomychura hypoleuca . 1489 Family Alcidce — Auks, Murres. 297 The California Murre, Uria troille calif ornica . 1494 x PAGE Family Fraterculidce — Puffins. 298 The Tufted Puffin, Lunda cirrhata . 1 S07 299 The Horned Puffin, Fratercula corniculata . 1^16 300 The Horn-billed Puffin, Cerorhinca monocerata . 1518 Order Grues — Cranes. Family Gruidce, — Cranes. 301 The Sandhill Cranes, Grus canadensis . 1325 Order Ralliformes — Rail-like Birds. Family Rallidce — Rails, Coots, Gallinules. 302 The California Clapper Rail, Rallus obsoletus . 1530 303 The Light-footed Rail, Rallus levipes . 1533 304 The Yuma Clapper Rail, Rallus yumanensis . 1536 305 The Virginia Rail, Rallus virginianus . 1537 306 The Sora Rail, Porzana Carolina . 1540 307 The Yellow Rail, Coturnicops noveborac.ensis . 1544 \i LIST OF FULL-PAGE PLATES FACING PAGE Wings (Photogravure) . Frontispiece Gila Woodpecker (Color-plate) . I0^g Red-shafted Flicker (Color-plate) . 1040 Nuttall’s Poorwill (Color-plate) . 1054 American Barn Owl (Color-plate) . 1070 Portrait of Young Barn Owl (Duotone) . 1076 Who — Who are you? (Duotone) . iocjo A Drowsy Sentry (Duotone) . 1094 California Pygmy Owl (Color-plate) . 1128 Road-runner (Color-plate) . 1136 Road-runner and nest in Tunas (Photogravure) . 1 146 Band-tailed Pigeon (Color-plate) . 1154 Western Mourning Dove (Color-plate) . 1158 Western Mourning Dove on Nest in Pepper Tree (Photo¬ gravure) . 1164 A Peaceful Moment (Duotone) . 1170 Portrait of Red Phalarope, Female (Duotone) . 1174 Les Voyageurs (Duotone) . 1178 The Race (Duotone) . 1182 Alert (Duotone) . 1188 Great Scissors! (Duotone) . 1194 The Skirt Dance (Duotone) . 1202 Japanesque (Duotone) . 1204 Black-necked Stilt at Nest (Photogravure) . 1210 FIonest John Dowitcher (Duotone) . 1220 The Lowly Pleiades (Duotone) . 1224 Portrait of Least Sandpiper (Duotone) . 1238 Narcissus: A Western Sandpiper (Photogravure) . 1246 Sanderlings and Surf (Photogravure) . 1256 Luncheon al Fresco (Duotone) . 1258 The Same Good Wight (Duotone) . 1260 Godwits and Surf (Duotone) . 1262 A Wandering Tattler (Photogravure) . 1274 Hudsonian Curlew (Color-plate) . 1284 Ploverdom (Duotone) . 1290 Three One-legs (Duotone) . 1292 Plover and Sanderling Frieze (Duotone) . 1294 \ i i i FACING PAGE Les Timores (Duotone) . 1312 Surf-birds Flying (Duotone) . 1332 Surf-birds — The Parting Shot (Photogravure) . 1336 Black Oyster-catcher (Color-plate) . 1346 A Breeding Haunt of the Black Oyster-catcher (Duotone).. . 1352 Gull and Surf (Duotone) . 1366 The Farallons (Duotone) . 1376 The Gray Lady (Duotone) . 1380 The Gentleman in Gray (Duotone) . 1386 N/3 Western Gull (Duotone) . 1390 The Hesperian Pinnacles (Duotone) . 1392 The Northward Faring (Duotone) . 1396 Portrait of California Gull (Duotone) . 1398 California Gulls at Paoha (Duotone) . 1408 Bonaparte’s Gull (Color-plate) . 1422 Bonaparte’s Gull on Estero Santa Barbara (Duotone) . 1424 Group of Bonaparte Gulls (Duotone) . 1426 Heermann’s Gull (Color-plate) . 1428 Heermann Gulls (Duotone) . 1430 Elegant Tern (Color-plate) . 1442 Brown’s Least Tern, at Nest (Duotone) . 1452 Ancient Murrelet (Color-plate) . 1482 Poseidon Club (Photogravure) . 1494 Tufted Puffin (Color-plate) . 1506 Tufted Puffins and Surf (Duotone) . 1514 Adventure (Duotone) . 1532 xiv The Birds of California Vol. Ill Description of Species Nos. 202 — 307 The Gila Woodpecker No. 202 Gila Woodpecker A. O. U. No. 41 1. Centurus uropygialis uropygialis Baird. Description. — Adult male: Head and neck all around and most of underparts buffy drab, paler on forehead and sides of crown, where enclosing a patch of carmine; the cervix occasionally glossed with light cadmium (recalling the nuchal patch of C. aurifrons ); the rump and upper tail-coverts white, sharply but sparingly marked with V-shaped and brace-shaped black bars; the tail black-and-white centrally, solid black on exposed edges; remaining upperparts heavily and equally black-and-white barred; the tips of wing broadly dusky, but the quills narrowly tipped with white; the center of belly light cadmium yellow; the axillars, flanks, crissum, and under aspect of tail black-and-white barred. Bill and feet black. Adult female: Like male, but without red on crown — drab instead. Length 203.2-254 (8.00-10.00), averaging about 228.6 (9.00); wing 130 (5.12); tail 80 (3.15); bill 30 (1.18); tarsus 22.5 (.886). Females average considerably less. Recognition Marks. — Towhee to robin size; drab foreparts and breast, in sharp contrast with black-and-white-barred wings and tail, distinctive. Nesting. — Nest: A hole in giant cactus with walls formed by dried juices of plant; also in mesquite, willow, or other tree. Eggs: 3-5, usually 4; white, scarcely glossy. Av. of 28 eggs from Arizona in M. C. O. coll.: 24.9 x 18.5 (.98 x .73); index 74.7. Season: April (Colorado River Valley), May (Santa Cruz plateau, Ariz.); one brood. Range of Centurus uropygialis. — Western Mexico and Lower California north to southeastern Nevada. Range of C. u. uropygialis. — That of the species minus the southern half of Lower California ( brewsteri ). Distribution in California. — Resident in the valley of the Colorado River, where closely confined to the willow-cottonwood association and the adjacent patches of giant cactus. Authorities.- Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. in (spec, from Ft. Yuma); Morcom, Bull. Ridgway Orn. Club, no. 2, 1887, p. 42 (vie. Ft. \ uma, breeding) ; Grinnell, Univ. Univ. Calif. Pub. Zook, vol. xii., 1914, P- C33 (Colo. Valley; habits, nest and eggs, etc.) ; Gilman, Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, p. 151, figs, (life hist, in s. Ariz.). NO BIRD-LOVER can recall the image of a sahuaro, that quaint vegetable tombstone of the desert, without at the same time focusing his mind upon this petulant, impudent, and inevitable bird. I he Gila Woodpecker and the Gilded Flicker are the lawful custodians and business agents and caretakers of all properly constituted “giants.’ Prospective tenants, whether Ell Owls, Ash-throated Hycatchers, Western Martins, or Sparrow Hawks, must look to them for quarters. And it these renters do not always exhibit a becoming gratitude, the Gila, at least, gets it back at them by gossiping, by snooping and prying, by unquenchable criticism, 1035 The Gila Woodpecker and sometimes, we fear, by downright theft. A nesting cavity in the soft bosom of one of these monumental cactuses is not a difficult thing to prepare; but it is a rather dirty job, and the delving bird gets his snuff- brown foreparts sadly smeared and stained with the slithery sahuaro juice. The excavation, moreover, requires a year in which to cure, that the surface of the cavity may develop a weathered shell which will be even measurably resistant to the percolating juices. In this cavity, then, the parent woodpeckers rear a first brood of young in April. In May or early June they are more apt to repair to the wooded bottoms, where covering foliage has now developed, to excavate a fresh nest for immediate occupancy, in willow, cottonwood, or mesquite. In the meantime, the chief business of the Dropygian day is to spy upon neighbors, to squabble, to chatter, to shriek and chase, and in general to constitute themselves a neighborhood nuisance. In the latter function is included a systematic search for birds’ eggs, especially those of the Lucy Warbler, Yellow Warbler, and Arizona Least Vireo. In case of the first-named, the eggs are devoured in spite of the most emphatic protests of the tiny parents; but eggs of Cardinal, Cooper Tanager and Towhee must be obtained by stealth. In the utter absence of jays upon our Lower Sonoran levels, the Gila Woodpeckers appear to enjoy an undisputed field. My son once saw a Gila enter, in the absence of the owner, the nest of a Gilded Flicker which contained eggs, — enter and remain for some minutes. Yet in this instance no material harm resulted. The bird was just taking notes upon her neighbor’s menage. Curiously enough, the home life of these feathered burglars is prac¬ tically ideal. The devotion of the male, especially to the eggs and young, is fairly pathetic. Supposing it to contain a full set of eggs, I once chopped out a hole in a mesquite tree, after having first thrust in a handkerchief to arrest falling chips. Upon removal of the cloth a male Gila was dis¬ closed. He had abundant opportunity to escape — in fact, was urged to do so; yet he preferred to remain and to strike savagely at the encouraging finger. Judge of my surprise when, upon forcing him off from below, I found two perfectly fresh eggs — an incomplete set! The young are hatched mother-naked, and, since they have no need of clothes lor decency’s sake nor yet for warmth, long remain so, the scandal of creation when dragged forth to light. When this disenchanting operation is attempted, the parents dance close attendance and pour out a flood of petitions — as though they had not themselves refused a dozen prayers that very day! Ah, me! consistency! — oh, well, you understand; we put the youngsters back. We have only time left to take a drink with the Gila. Drink, Old Top, and forget old scores! I sat at an encouraging but observant dis- 1036 From Gila Woodpecker About % life size water-color painting by Allan Brooks The Yellow-shafted Flicker tance from the water-hole when my guest arrived. The water was none of the purest, quite green, in fact; but the children of the desert are not fastidious. The Woodpecker arrived ostentatiously, like a belated con¬ stable. He first bowed obnoxiously a dozen times or more, from a neigh¬ boring brush pile, then he hitched up where he could observe the small fry at their potations. A Cooper Tanager was sipping a modest beaker, and gazing, Narcissus-like, at a vision of wondrous beauty, which I, good sooth, was enjoying in double measure. The dainty Ground Doves, after a little amorous prancing, had thrust their nozzles deep into the pool and were drinking like tired horses. But now the Gila Woodpecker had come. He tittered consciously, and acknowledged his thirst by covetous glances. Then he sought a branch which descended sharply into deep water, and down this he advanced cautiously, by tittering hitches. Down and down the dread descent he went, until at last his tail, his handsome, black-and- white-barred tail, was partially submerged. Then the bird tilted forward and selected one drop of water. This was allowed to trickle down his throat with every appearance of satisfaction, the while his tail went souse again into the water. Then another drop was selected, and another, until by and by he had established a regular pump-motion between bill and tail: dip, souse; dip, souse; dip, souse — and all the while he clung sidewise to a perpendicular twig. Darn vivimus vivamus! No. 203 Yellow-shafted Flicker A. O. U. No. 412a. Colaptes auratus borealis Ridgway. Synonyms. — Flicker. Boreal Flicker (Ridgway). Northern Yellow- shafted Flicker (name now restricted to C. a. luteus). Northern Flicker. Golden¬ winged Woodpecker. Yellow-hammer. FIigh-hole. FIigh-holder. Pigeon Woodpecker. Wake-up. Description. — Adult male: Top of head and cervix ashy gray, with a vinaceous tinge on forehead; a bright scarlet band on back of neck; back, scapulars, and wings vinaceous gray, with conspicuous black bars, brace-shaped, crescentic, or various; primaries plain dusky on exposed webs; lining of wings and shafts of wing-quills yellow (lemon-chrome to primuline yellow); rump white; upper tail-coverts white, black- barred in broad “herring-bone” pattern; tail double-pointed, black, and with black shafts on exposed upper surface; feathers sharply acuminate; tail below, golden-yellow and with yellow shafts, save on black tips; chin, sides of head, and throat vinaceous, enclosing two broad black malar stripes, or moustaches; a broad black pectoral crescent, remaining underparts white with heavy vinaceous shading on breast and sides, every- IO37 The Yellow-shafted Flicker where marked with sharply defined and handsome round, or cordate, spots of black. Bill and feet dark plumbeous. Adult female: Similar, but without black moustache. Sexes about equal in size. Length 279.4-323.9 (1 1. 00-12. 75) ; wing 162.5 (6.40); tail 106.2 (4.18); bill 36 (1.42); tarsus 28.9 (1.14). Recognition Marks.- -Robin size; pectoral black crescent, white rump, black- spotted breast, bill slightly curved, etc. (in common with C. cafer) \ yellow flickerings in flight, scarlet nuchal band, black malar stripe (of male), in contrast with C. cafer. Nesting. — Does not breed in California. Nest: An excavation in tree or stump, usually made by the bird, at moderate heights; unlined, save by chips. Eggs: 4-10, usually 7 or 8; glossy white. Av. size 27.7 x 21.6 (1.09 x .85). Range of Colaptes auratus. — Northern and eastern North America from the limit of trees to the Gulf Coast. Range of C. a. borealis. — Breeds in northern North America from Labrador along the limit of trees to the Kowak River and Bering Sea, south to northern Ontario, Minnesota, and eastern Wyoming. Winter range not yet clearly distinguished, but stragglers, at least, occur down the Pacific Coast to southern California. Occurrence in California. — Not common winter visitor chiefly west of the Sierras. (Santa Barbara, Nov. 4, 1911; Jan. 23, 19x5; Nov. 29, 1919, 4 birds). Authorities. — Ball ( Colaptes auratus), Auk, vol. ii., 1885, p. 383 (San Ber¬ nardino); Swarth, Condor, vol. iii. , 1901, p. 66 (Los Angeles, one spec.); Condor, vol. xii. , 1910, p. 107 (hybrid) ; Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 11, 1915, p. 82 (status in Calif.). WE ARE always chiding our undiscriminating friends for calling the Flickers of California “Yellow Hammers,” whereas the birds are red. But once in a coon’s age the guess is correct. Flickers with yellow shafts do occur, now and then, but chiefly in winter, in very diverse sections of the State. And when they are found, there are four possibilities to choose from: Either (1) the bird is a simon-pure C. a. borealis from Alaska; or else (2) it is a hybrid from northwestern British Columbia where C. a. borealis and C. cafer saturatior interbreed; or (3) it is a hybrid from central Alberta where C. a. luteus and C. c. collaris meet; or else (4) it illustrates a rare dicroic phase of Colaptes cafer itself. Evidence upon the last-named point has not yet been duly arrayed. It would manifestly require to be supported by breeding birds, but that dichroism is a very probable explanation of some of the occurrences recorded in the name of C. auratus, is clearly suggested by the dichromatic situation known to exist in the case of the Gilded Flicker, C. chrysoides mearnsi. Without much doubt, also, some of the yellowed examples from California are true hybrids. The re-amalgamation, in Alberta and Saskatchewan, of two races of Colaptes, long separated, is one of the romances of American ornithology. But most interesting of all, for our present consideration, is the fact that a form now dominant in Alaska, and which reached that station by the familiar northwest flight-line, occasionally sends stragglers 1038 The Red-shafted Flickers directly south. Grinnell in his Distributional List (1915) allows three such “pure blood” records, including one, a female, from Los Angeles (Feb. 20, 1901). I have noted two occurrences at Santa Barbara, which I am thoroughly satisfied were those of true auratus; first, Nov. 4, 1911, a single bird seen in the sand dunes west of La Patera; and second, four birds, Nov. 29, 1919, two of which, both females, were closely studied by the Bird Club in a walnut grove near Goleta. No. 204 Red-shafted Flicker No. 204a Red-shafted Flicker A. 0. U. No. 413. Colaptes cafer collaris Vigors. Synonyms. — Red-winged Woodpecker. High-holder. “Yellow-hammer.” Pigeon Woodpecker. Description. — Adult male: Similar to C. auratus borealis, but yellow of feather- shafts, etc., replaced by orange-vermilion (flame-scarlet on shafts, quills, and rec- trices; grenadine on lining of wings); cast of upper plumage correspondingly reddish (very faintly, a mere vinaceous tinge to the brown); no scarlet nuchal patch; a broad malar stripe of scarlet (replacing the black stripe of C. a. borealis) ; sides of head, and throat, clear bluish ash; underparts tinged with lilaceous (palest orient pink). Adult female: Like male, but scarlet malar stripe replaced by vinaceous brown, or else gray like throat. Young birds are like adults, but duller; top of head overlaid with warm brown, and throat more or less washed with brownish. Length (averaging a little more than that of C. auratus borealis ): 279.4-336.55 (1 1. 00-13. 25) ; wing 165 (6.50); tail no (4.34); bill 37.5 (1.48); tarsus 29.3 (1.15). Remarks. — Between this and C. auratus borealis or luteus every form of gradation exists. Hybrids, for such they really are, most frequently reveal themselves by the presence of three scarlet patches (in the male), i. e., two malar and one nuchal. The “illumination” of the wings and tail in these hybrids also varies interminably through muddy yellows, ochres, and cadmiums. These two species illustrate in the most perfect manner the effect of contact between closely related stocks, long separated, which meet again after specific differences have become thoroughly established. The hybrids produced along the line, or rather, throughout the interpenetrated area of contact, are fertile, but so constant is the influx of fresh, pure stock that there is no evidence of a tendency to fix a standard of intermediate character. The “Hybrid” Flicker ( C . auratus x C. cafer ) is not yet a species. Recognition Marks. — Robin size; brown finely barred with black above; under¬ parts heavily spotted with black; flame-color of under wing surface prominent in flight; scarlet malar stripe of male distinctive; lighter than succeeding. Nesting. — Much as in C. a. borealis, and eggs indistinguishable. For nesting sites bird makes use of wooden buildings or earth-banks, in default of trees. Av. size of eggs 28.4 x 21.6 (1.12 x .85). Season: May; one brood, rarely two. 1039 The Red-shafted Flickers Range of Colaptes cafer. — Western North America from southern Alaska to southern Mexico. Range of C. c. collaris. — Western United States and southwestern British Prov¬ inces (except Northwest coast strip), and northern Mexico. Distribution in California. — Common resident of Upper Sonoran and Tran¬ sition zones practically throughout the State, except in the humid Transition of the extreme Northwest. Breeds locally in Boreal zone, and ranges freely to timberline. In winter, numbers greatly augmented by accessions from the North, at which season also it may be found upon the deserts. Authorities. — Vigors ( Colaptes collaris), Zool. Jour., vol. iv., 1829, p. 354 (orig. desc. ; Monterey); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, p. 55 (San Joaquin Valley, habits, etc.); Wetmore, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 112 (speed of flight); Stoner, Condor, vol. xxiv., 1922, p. 54 (study of roosting holes). No. 204b Northwestern Flicker A. 0. U. No. 413a. Colaptes cafer saturatior Ridgway. Description. — Like C. c. collaris, but larger and darker; ground-color of upper- parts burnt umber with a purplish tinge; ground-color of underparts vinaceous buff to color of back; sides of head and throat deep smoke-gray; pileum cinnamomeous. Length up to 355.6 (14.00); wing 168.5 (6.635); tail 118 (4-65) ; bill 39.4 (1.55); tarsus 30 (1.18). Remarks. — Specimens in the Provincial Museum at Victoria, B. C., indicate hybridization between this form and C. auratus borealis. Of 27 males from Vancouver Island nine possess in whole or in part the scarlet nuchal patch characteristic of auratus. Presumably, therefore, many of the winter visitant hybrids which reach our coasts are between these two forms, C. c. saturatior and C. c. borealis. Recognition Marks. — As in preceding; darker. Nesting. — Nest: As in preceding species. Eggs: 6-9; av. of 33 specimens from Eureka in M. C. O. coll.: 28.7 x 22.25 (1.13 x .876); index 76.6; range 26.4-32 by 20.8-23.4 (1.04-1.26 by .82-. 92). Season: May-June; one brood. Range of C. c. saturatior. — Humid Transition zone of the Northwest coast district from Humboldt Bay, California, to Sitka, Alaska. Distribution in California. — Resident in the extreme northern coastal strip. Intergrades widely with collaris upon east and south. Authorities. — Townsend, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. x., 1887, p. 206 (Red Bluff); Anderson and Grinnell, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1903, p. 9 (Siskiyou Mts., crit. ); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. vii. , 1911, p. 70 (s. e. Alaska, distr., habits, crit.); Palmer, Auk, vol. xxxiii., 1916, p. 322 (nomencl.). THE STUPIDITIES of nomenclature are nowhere more clearly illustrated than by the case of this species, the first example of which fell into the hands of a “closet naturalist,” Gmelin. This doughty bird- namer, who was working over a miscellaneous collection, supposed that the specimen he was handling hailed from Africa, and he, accordingly, named it Cafer (i. e., Kaffir). The “law of priority” is inexorable. How else could the diluted output of our subspeciologists be saddled upon posterity! 1040 Red-shafted Flicker About Yi life size From a tunier-color painting by Major Allan Brooks The Red-shafted Flickers Hence, we have a host of black men, Kaffirs, swarming over Califor¬ nia, along with“Inclians” who are ten thousand miles from India. But in this case the stupidity of “Science” is matched by the perverse careless¬ ness of the man on the street (or, perchance, the man with the hoe) who calls the bird “Yellow- hammer.’’ Cafer’s cousin, auratus, of the East, is yellow, and it hammers, although the Yellowhammer (or, more properly, the Yellow Ammer) is an Old World bird ( Emberiza citrin- ella), guiltless of knock¬ ing. C. cafer, on the other hand, does ham¬ mer, but its trappings are of flame-scarlet, in¬ stead of cloth-of-gold. Call it Redhammer, then, if you will — and by so doing, you will add only one more to the six or seven score of nicknames by which the American flickers are known. For the flicker, under what¬ ever local pseudonym he may flutter, is one of the best diffused and most familiar of American birds. And because in respect to song and behavior the western bird, cafer, does not differ materially from the eastern species, auratus, 1 ventuie to quote again three paragraphs from “ I he Birds of Ohio. “It is perhaps as a musician that the Flicker is best known. 1 he word musician is used in an accommodated sense, lor the bird is no professional Taken in Oregon ■M Photo by Finley b* Bohlman YOUNG NORTHWEST FLICKERS 1041 The Red-shafted Flickers singer, or instrumental maestro; but so long as the great orchestra of Nature is rendering the oratorio of life, there will be place for the drummer, the screamer, and the utterer of strange sounds, as well as for the human obbligato. The Flicker is first, like all other woodpeckers, a drummer. The long rolling tattoo of early springtime is elicited from some dry limb or board where the greatest resonance may be secured, and it is intended both as a musical performance and as a call of inquiry. Once, as a student, the writer roomed in a large build¬ ing, whose unused chim¬ neys were covered with sheet-iron. A Flicker had learned the acoustic value of these elevated drums, and the sound of this bird’s reveille at 4:00 a. m. was a regular feature of life at ‘Coun¬ cil Hall.’ “The most charac- istic of the bird’s vocal efforts is a piercing call delivered from an ele¬ vated situation, clape or kly-ak, and cheer or kee- yer. The scythe-whet- ting song is used for greeting, coaxing or ar¬ gumentation, and runs from a low wee-co, wee-co — through wake-zip, wake- up, wake-up — to an em¬ phatic wy'-kle, wy'-kle, wy’-kle, or, in another mood, sounds like flicker, flicker, flicker. “In the early days of April, courtship is in progress, and the love- making of the Flicker is both the most curious Taken in Oregon Photo by A. W. Anthony NEST AND EGGS OF RED-SHAFTED FLICKER 1042 The Red-shafted Flickers Taken in Pasadena Photo by Donald R. Dickey RED-SHAFTED FLICKER ON 'NESTING BOX and the most con¬ spicuous of any¬ thing in that order. An infatuated Flicker is a very soft and foolish- looking bird, but it must be admitted that he thoroughly understands the feminine heart, and succeeds in love be¬ yond the luck of most. A bevy of suitors will lay siege to the affections of a fair lady, say in the top of a syca¬ more tree. Although the rivalry is fierce, one gallant at a time will be allowed to display his charms. This he does by advancing toward the female along a horizontal limb, bowing, scrap¬ ing, pirouetting, and swaying his head from side to side with a rhythmi¬ cal motion. Now and then the swain pretends to lose his balance, being quite blinded, you see, by the luster of mi¬ lady’s eyes, but in reality he does it that he may have an excuse to throw 1043 The Red-shafted Flickers up his wings and display the dazzling flame which lines them. The lady is disposed to be critical at first, and backs away in apparent indifference, or flies off to another limb in the same tree. This is only a fair test of gallantry and provokes pursuit, as was expected. Hour after hour, and it may be day after day, the suit is pressed by one and another until the maiden indicates her preference, and begins to respond in kind by nodding and bowing and swaying before the object of her choice, and to pour out an answering flood of softly whispered adulation. The best of it is, however, that these affectionate demonstrations are kept up during the nesting season, so that even when one bird relieves its mate upon the eggs it must needs pause for a while outside the nest to bow and sway and swap compliments.” Nature has not always dealt justly with the western Flicker in the matter of providing an abundance of dead timber for nesting sites. What more natural, then, than that the stinted bird should joyfully fall upon the first “frame” houses and riddle them with holes? The front door of a certain country parsonage testifies to at least one pastoral vaca¬ tion, by the presence of three large Flicker holes in its panels. The church, hard by, is dotted with tin patches which conceal this bird’s handiwork; and the mind recalls with glee how the irreverent Flicker on a summer Sunday replied to the parson’s fifthly, by a mighty rat-at-at-at-at on the weather siding. The district schoolhouse of a neighboring township is worst served of all, for forty-one Flicker holes punctuate its weather¬ beaten sides — reason enough, surely, for teaching the young idea of that district how to shoot. Indeed, the school directors became so incensed at the conduct of these naughty fowls that they offered a bounty of ten cents a head for their destruction. But it is to laugh to see the fierce energy with which these birds of the plains, long deprived of legitimate exercise, fall to and perforate such neglected outposts of learning. The bird becomes obsessed by the idea of filling a particular wall full of holes, and no ingenuity of man can deter him. If work during union hours is dis¬ couraged, the bird returns stealthily to his task at four a. m., and chisels out a masterpiece before breakfast. If the gun speaks, and one bird falls a martyr to the sacred cause, another comes forward promptly to take his place, and there is always some patriotic Flicker to uphold the rights of academic research. Of course the situation is much relieved in the timbered foothills and along the wooded banks of streams, where rotten stubs abound. The Flicker is at home, also, to the very limit of trees on all our mountains,— as “boreal,” therefore, as any bird, save the Rosy Finch and the Rock Wren. It is not found during the breeding season upon the warmer deserts, although abundant there in winter; and in general, it is a lover 1044 The Red-shafted Flickers of cool, moist situations, il these are also comparatively open. Nests are usually excavated in the month of April, or from that to June, according to elevation; and any tree or stump may serve as host. In a northern locality I saw a Flicker’s nest in a stump only two feet high, and its eggs rested virtually upon the ground. Others occur in live willows, cotton¬ woods, oaks (whether black or white), and ap¬ ple trees. Pine and fir stubs have their uses also; and I have seen nests, a few, sixty feet up in dead pine trees. The birds nest also in the walls of buildings, in which case they lug in chips to lay on beam or sill, and so prevent the eggs from rolling. In southern California the Flicker occasionally nests in banks, after the fashion of Kingfishers; but in such instances the nests are easily recog¬ nized by their larger size, and by the exag¬ gerated key-hole shape of the entrance. From six to ten highly polished, semi¬ transparent, white eggs are laid upon the rotten wood or chips which usually line a nest; and incubation begins, cus¬ tomarily, when the last egg is laid. Bendire notes an instance, in the Taken in Sesfie phol° by Dickey THE HOLE STORY 1045 The Red-shafted Flickers Blue Mountains of Oregon, of a Flicker’s nest which contained at one time three young birds just hatched, two pipped eggs, and five perfectly fresh eggs, of which one was a runt. The female is a close sitter, and instances are on record in which pebbles dropped in upon her have failed to dislodge her; or in which, once being lifted off, she brushed past the disturber to re-enter the nest. Although provided with a bill which might prove a formidable weapon, the Flicker is of too gentle a nature to wield it in combat, and seldom offers any resistance whatever to the intruder. After fourteen days young birds are hatched, blind, ugly, helpless. In a few days more, however, they are able to cling to the sides of the nesting hollow, and are ready to set up a clamor upon the appearance of food. This noise has been compared to the hissing of a nest of snakes, but as the nestlings grow, it becomes an uproar equal to the best efforts of a telephone pole on a frosty morning. The young are fed entirely by regurgitation, not an attractive process, but one admirably suited to the necessities of long foraging expeditions and varying fare. When able to leave the nest, the fledglings usually clamber about the parental roof-tree for a day or two before taking flight. Their first efforts at obtaining food for themselves are usually made upon the ground, where ants are abundant. These, with grasshoppers and other ground-haunting insects, make up a large percentage of food, both of the young and adults. It is worthy of remark what an effective instru¬ ment the Flicker has in its tongue. This member can easily be extended two and a half inches beyond the tip of the bill, or three, if forced by hand. To accomplish this feat the supporting bones of the base, the hyoids, have undergone an extraordinary elongation. Not content with merely wrapping about the entire skull just beneath the skin, as do the hyoids of other woodpeckers, these escape at the forehead and, re-entering the right nostril from the outside, push their way clear to the tip of the bill through a hollow of the upper mandible. The skull of the Flicker has become a sort of pulley block, over which the mobile, cord-like hyoids play inces¬ santly. When feeding upon ants, the Flicker protrudes its tongue, and lets it lie along the ground for a moment until the little victims swarm over its surface and are engaged by its viscid coating. A sudden with¬ drawal assures a feast and the number of ants which the bird can bag in this fashion is amazing. Five thousand of a small species ( Cremato - gaster sp .) were found by Beal in a single stomach — these and a portion of sand incidentally acquired. 1046 The Mearns Gilded Flicker No. 205 Mearns’s Gilded Flicker A. 0. U. No. 414b. Colaptes chrysoides mearnsi Ridgway. Description. — General pattern that of preceding forms, but color of upperparts lighter in tone and the black barring greatly reduced; the illumination of wings and tail in normal plumage similar to that of C. auratus, the distribution of red on head exactly that of C. cafer. Adult male in normal (yellow) plumage: Nasal tufts and pileum warm cinnamon-brown (sayal brown) ; back and wings wood-brown, lightly and narrow¬ ly but increasingly (proceeding backward) spotted or barred with black; rump broadly white; upper tail-coverts white barred with black; tail, including exposed (dorsal aspect) quills, black; quills dusky on exposed webs, their shafts, together with distal portion of under surface and basal portion of exposed lower rectrices, golden yellow (light cadmium); the basal portion of quills (inner webs and under surface) and wing¬ lining lighter (buff-yellow or warm buff); throat and sides of head and neck bluish ashy, interrupted by broad scarlet-red malar stripe; a black pectoral patch and remain¬ ing underparts lilaceous or pale orient pink, heavily marked with rounded or cordate black spots (quite as in the other members of Colaptes). Adult male, rufescent phase: As in foregoing, but illumination of wings and tail orange-pink (the shafts bittersweet pink, the lighter linings orient pink). Adult female (both phases): Similar to male, but without malar red stripe — plain bluish gray instead. Av. of 7 Colorado River specimens: Length 274.83 (10.82); wing 148 (5.83); tail 92 (3.62); bill 36.4 (1.43). Remarks. — A dwarfed and pallid (older?) brother of Colaptes cafer, probably differentiated by isolation in Lower California, and recently invading southeastern California and Arizona from the southwest. The normal yellow illumination of wing again points to close relationship existing between C. auratus and C. cafer, while the variant red phases found by Grinnell and others in the Colorado River valley appear to be due, as Grinnell suggests, rather to chemico-physiological changes than to hybridization with C. c. collaris. Recognition Marks. — Robin size; general marks of preceding species; lighter color tone and golden illumination of wings and tail distinctive in range. Nesting. — Breeds chiefly in holes in sahuaro cactus, but also in mesquite, willow, etc. Eggs: 4; glossy, white. Av. of 45 specimens in M. C. O. coll.: 27.4 x 20.6 (1.08 x .81); index 75; range 24.1-30.8 by 19.1-22.6 (.95-1.21 by .75-. 89). Season: April-May 15; one brood, rarely two. Range of Colaptes chrysoides. — Lower Sonoran zone in southeastern California, southern Arizona, Sonora, and Lower California. Range of C. c. mearnsi. — That of the species minus Lower California. Occurrence in California. — Resident on the west bank of the Colorado River above the Laguna Dam. Authorities. — H. Brown ( Colaptes chrysoides), Condor, vol. vi., 1904, p. 4f> (Calif, side, Colo. R.) ; Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1914, P- 1 35 (Colo. Valley, habits; crit.) ; Gilman, Condor, vol. xvii., 1 9 1 5 > P- 160, figs. (s. Ariz., habits, nest, eggs); Howell and van Rossem, Condor, vol. xvii., 1915- P- 233 (Colo. \ alley, near Potholes in winter). IO47 The Mearns Gilded Flicker IT IS — it is — the Gilded Flicker! He takes flight from a palo verde, and we get a flash of authentic gold as he lights against the side of a giant cactus (as though it were not at all beset with spines, that should be fearful). He shouts, Culloo' cullitoo' , with jovial pretense of fear, and bows emphatically with disarming waggishness. It is our old friend, the Flicker, surely none other, known from seaboard to seaboard, and from New Orleans to — one had almost said “the Pole.” Yes; but his voice is a little thinner; and the shafts of his quills with the accom¬ panying illumination of the webs, are golden, instead of grenadine (red). For the rest it is our Flicker, and, save as influenced in habit by special conditions, the self-same bird which blessed our childhood. The distribution of the Gilded Flicker is almost exactly coincident with that of the sahuaro, or “giant cactus.” There is only one con¬ spicuous stand of this plant left in California, that occurring just above the Laguna Dam on the Colorado River. But wherever the presence of the suhuaro affords an excuse for the bird, the latter is apt to occupy neighboring timber as well, whether mesquite, cottonwood, or willow. It is for this reason that the present flicker population of the Colorado River “bottoms” somewhat exceeds the accommodations provided by the modest remnant of “desert candelabra.” The hospitality of the giant cactus on its native desert is almost unbounded. Its fleshy columns, flanked by fluted arms no less hos¬ pitable, shelter not only woodpeckers and owls, but wrens, martins, flycatchers, hawks, doves, and ravens. The gracefully upturned branch¬ es, though themselves a dead weight upon the parent stem, will support a man’s weight beside, and there is always room for a hawk’s nest at their clustering bases. The succulent flesh of the sahuaro is guarded externally by a series of bristling spines, and it is supported internally by a concentric row of woody ribs, which gather strength as the plant rears itself to an impressive height, 25, 30, or even 40 feet. An isolated plant of good size is sure to contain several nesting holes, and a veteran is riddled with them, each the scene of some domestic venture present or past, and most of them cherishing a lively expectation of repeated occupancy. The sahuaro, moreover, furnishes not only lodging, but a very substantial “board,” in the shape of luscious fruits borne in pro¬ fusion upon the growing crown, or upon the ends of the branches. Its body, however, is not largely subject to decay, and the proportion of moribund giants is a small one. When one of them does Anally dis¬ integrate, it is a pathetic sight to see in its last stages the weathered outlines of the ancient nesting hollows, each like a quaint gourd, per¬ sisting after the supporting tissues have perished. It was the Flicker, no doubt, who discovered, or perfected, this curative hardening process 1048 The Western Belted Kingfisher which attends upon any exposure of the sahuaro tissue, as upon the excavation of a nest. For the Gilded Flicker is at once janitor and high priest of the Sahuaro. It is he who prepares, with Cousin Gila ( Centurus uropygialis ), most of the lodgings, and he does this with rare and conscious foresight. Scorning for himself a second-hand dwelling, even his own, the industrious flicker delves out the nesting hollow a year ahead. And whenever this attractive hollow happens to please a braver or less considerate bird, a Purple Martin or an Elf Owl, the poor flicker has to delve again. And because this has happened many, many times, the patient bird just keeps on digging, so that there will surely be enough for all. Perhaps it is for this reason, also, that the Gilded Flicker rears a much smaller family than does either of his close kinsmen, Colaptes cafer or C. auratus. Four eggs is the almost invariable rule for Colaptes chrysoides. Nesting is undertaken in early April, and second broods are reared occasionally, although much less frequently than is the case with the Gila Woodpecker. Flickers’ eggs are crystal white, and so transparent for the first day or so that one can determine from the outside the precise stage of incubation. After that, the shells become opaque or partially discolored. Gilded Flickers are neither as confiding nor as demonstrative as are the related species. Without cover, they must flee at the approach of danger; and there is no safe “middle distance’’ from which to upbraid the intruder. If there are young, however, the mother bird will return to the home tree and say, whoo' hoo hoo, whoo' hoo hoo, in a very anxious voice. You can have mine, birdie; I don’t want ’em. No. 206 Western Belted Kingfisher A. O. U. No. 390a. Megaceryle alcyon caurina (Grinnell). Synonym. — Commonly called plain “Kingfisher. Description. — Adult male: Upperparts, sides of head, and a broad pectoral band slaty blue (green-blue slate), the leathers chiefly with blackish shafts; feathers of crown prolonged into loose occipital crest, and these with broader black central stripes; the wing-coverts and inner primaries sharply and finely, the secondaries broadly, tipped with white; edge of wing and exposed primaries black; the primaries white-spotted centrally on outer webs, and nearly pure white on inner webs; concealed portions of tail-feathers black, sharply barred or spotted-and-barred with white, a touch of white in front of eye, and lower eyelid white; sides mingled slaty and white, IO49 The Western Belted Kingfisher WESTERN BELTED KINGFISHER remaining underparts pure white. Bill black, changing to yellow at base of lower mandible; feet dark with yellow soles. Adult female: Similar, but with sides, axil- laries, and an irregular band across lower breast, cinnamon-rufous. Immature: Like adults, except that slaty blue band of chest is heavily mixed with rusty. Length 3i7-5»355-6 (12.50-14.00); wing 163 (6.42); tail 92 (3.62); bill 59.3 (2.33); tarsus 11.4 (.45). Females slightly larger. Recognition Marks. — “Kingfisher” size; blue-gray and white coloration; pisca¬ torial habits; rattling cry. Nesting. — Nest: At end of tunnel in bank, 4 to 6 feet in, unlined. Eggs: 6 to 8; pure white. Av. size 33.3 x 26.4 (1.31 x 1.04). Season: May; one brood. Range of Megaceryle alcyon. — North America and northern South America. Breeds from Mackenzie and Labrador south to southern border of the United States; winters from British Columbia, Nebraska, Ohio, and Virginia, south through^ the West Indies to Guiana and Colombia. Range of M. a. caurina. — Western North America, east to and including the Rocky Mountains; breeding from northern Alaska south at least to southern California; wintering irregularly from British Columbia south through western Mexico and Lower California. Distribution in California. — Common migrant both east and west of the Sierras. A common breeder in northern portion of the State and along the Sierras to Yosemite Valley and Owens Valley; also breeding and possibly sedentary south, regularly, to Santa Barbara, Santa Paula, and Santa Cruz Island. In winter common 1050 The Western Belted Kingfisher along the sea-coast in the San Diegan district, less common northerly, at least to Tomales Bay (Mailliard). Authorities. — Vigors ( Alcedo alcyon), Zool. Voy. “Blossom,” 1839, p. 16 (San Francisco); Carpenter, Condor, vol. xix., 1917, p. 22 (Escondido, breeding); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 60 (s. Calif, ids.); J. Mailliard, Condor, vol. xxiii., 1921, p. 194 (Marin Co., nesting habits). WHEN we were small boys and had successfully teased our fathers or big brothers to let us go fishing with them, we were repeatedly admon¬ ished not to “holler” for fear of scaring the fish. This gratuitous and frequently emphatic advice would have been discredited if the example of the Kingfisher had been followed. Either because noise doesn’t matter to fish, or because he is moved by the same generous impulse which prompts the mountain lion to give fair and frightful warning of his presence at the beginning of an intended foray, the bird makes a dreadful racket as he moves upstream and settles upon his favorite perch, a bare branch over¬ looking a quiet pool. Here, although he waits long and patiently, he not infrequently varies the monotony of incessant scrutiny by breaking out with his weird rattle — like a watchman’s call, some have said; but there is nothing metallic about it, only wooden. Again, when game is sighted, he rattles with excitement before he makes a plunge; and when he bursts out of the water with a wriggling minnow in his beak, he clatters in high glee. If, as rarely happens, the bird misses the stroke, the sputtering notes which follow speak plainly of disgust, and we are glad for the moment that Kingfisher talk is not exactly translatable. It is not quite clear whether the bird usually seizes or spears its prey, although it is certain that it sometimes does the latter. The story is told of a Kingfisher which, spying some minnows in a wooden tub nearly filled with water, struck so eagerly that its bill penetrated the bottom of the tub, and so thoroughly that the bird was unable to extricate itself; and so died — a death almost as ignominious as that of the king who was drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine. When a fish is taken, the bird first thrashes it against its perch to make sure it is dead, and then swallows it head foremost. If the fish is a large one its captor often finds it necessary to go through the most ridicu¬ lous contortions, gaspings, writhings, chokings, regurgitations, and renewed attempts, in order to encompass its safe delivery within. Kingfishers have the reputation of being very unsocial birds. Apart from their family life, which is idyllic, this reputation is well sustained. Good fishing is so scarce that the birds deem it best to portion off the territory with others of their own kind, and they are very punctilious about the observance of boundaries and allotments. For the rest, why 1051 The Western Belted Kingfisher should they hunt up avian companions, whose tastes are not educated to an appreciation of exposed, water-soaked stubs, and a commanding view of river scenery? However, I did once see a Kingfisher affably hob¬ nobbing with a Kingbird, on a barren branch which overlooked a crystal stream in Idaho. I wonder if they recognized a mutual kingliness, this humble fisherman and the petulant hawk-driver? Taken in Oregon Photo by A. W. Anthony THE KING ROW Kingfisher courtship is a very noisy and spirited affair. One does not know just how many miles up and down stream it is considered proper for the gallant to pursue his enamorata before she yields a coy acceptance ; and it is difficult to perceive how the tender passion can survive the din of the actual proposal, where both vociferate in wooden concert to a distracted world. But la! love is mighty and doth mightily prevail. I he nesting tunnel is driven laterally into the face of a steep bank, preferably of sand or loam, usually directly over the water, but occasion¬ ally at a considerable distance from it. Dr. Brewer reports one in a gravel pit at least a mile from water. The birds are not so particular as are the Bank Swallows about digging near the top of the bank, but, espe¬ cially if the bank is small, usually select a point about midway. The tunnel goes straight in or turns sharply to suit an occasional whim, until a convenient depth, say five or six feet, is reached, when a considerable enlargement is made for the nest chamber. Here, early in May, six or 1052 The Poorwills seven white eggs are laid, usually upon the bare earth, but sometimes upon a lining of grass, straw and trash. From time to time the birds eject pellets containing fish scales, the broken testae of crawfish and other indigestible substances, and these are added to the accumulating nest material. Sanitary regulations are not very strict in Kingfisher’s home, and by the time the young are ready to fly we could not blame them for being glad to get away. The female is a proverbially close sitter, often permitting herself to be taken with the hand, but not until after she has made a vigorous defense with her sharp beak. If a stick be introduced into the nest, she will sometimes seize it so tightly that she can be lifted from the eggs, turtle-fashion. The parents are very busy birds after the young have broken shell, and it takes many a quintal of fish to prepare six, or maybe seven, lusty fisher princes for the battle of life. At this season the birds hunt and wait upon their young principally at night, in order not to attract hostile attention to them by daylight visits. Only one brood is raised in a season, and since fishing is unquestionably a fine art, the youngsters require constant supervision and instruction for several months. A troop of six or eight birds seen in July or August does not mean that Kingfisher is indulging in midsummer gaieties with his fellows, but only that the family group of that season has not yet been broken up. No. 207 Poorwill No. 207 Nuttall’s Poorwill A. O. U. No. 4x8. Phalaenoptilus nuttalli nuttalli (Audubon). Description. — Adult: A central patch of pure silky white across lower throat; below this, in abrupt contrast, a band of black; lining of wings clear ochraceous bull; under tail-coverts clear creamy buff ; the three outer pairs of tail-feathers tipped broadly but decreasingly with white or buffy white; remaining plumage an exquisite complex of skeletonized black centers of feathers with buffy and intermingled dusky margin- ings, the whole producing a frosted or tarnished-silvery effect; black most conspicuously outcropping on scapulars and on center of crown; buffy “silvering ’ most complete on sides of crown, wing-coverts, and upper surfaces of tail-feathers; black of underparts appearing chiefly as bars, where also mingled with pale buffy brown; flight-feathers finely and fully banded, ochraceous and blackish. Bill black; feet (drying) dark brown; iris brown. Young birds are much like adults, but the ochraceous element inclines to rufescence, pale cinnamon instead of buffy; throat entirely ochraceous bull. Length 177.8-215.9 (7.00-8.50); wing 142 (5.60); tail 88.9 (3.50); bill 12 (.47); tarsus 17.6 (.69). 1053 The Poor wills Recognition Marks. — Strictly towhee size, but appearing larger; smaller than a Nighthawk, which it superficially resembles in coloration. Poorwill cry heard a hundred times to once the bird is seen. Paler than calif ornicus ; darker than mtidus. Nesting. — Eggs: 2; laid upon the bare ground; pure white (or with a faint pinkish tinge when fresh); oval to blunt elliptical-oval in shape. Av. size 25.2 x 19 (.99 x .75). Season: c. June 1st; one brood. Range of Phalcenoptilus nuttalli. — Western North America from the plains to California and from south-central British Columbia, south in winter to central Mexico. Range of P. n. nuttalli. — That of the species minus the Pacific Coast district, broadly, and the southern portion of summer range (roughly Kansas to southeastern California). Distribution in California. — Summer resident of Upper Sonoran and Tran¬ sition areas east of the Sierras, from Death Valley northward, and through the northern counties west at least to Yreka, Siskiyou County. Winters in the southern portion of its range and irregularly southward over the deserts and in the valley of the Colorado. Authorities. — Cooper ( Antrostomus Nuttalli ), Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 341 (mts., west of Colo. Valley); Fisher , N. Am. Fauna, no. 7, 1893, p. 51 (localities in s. e. Calif.); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zook, vol. xii., 1914, p. 139 (Colo. Valley; occurrence, habits, crit.). No. 207a Frosted Poorwill A. O. U. No. 418a. Phalaenoptilus nuttalli nitidus Brewster. Synonym. — Brewster’s Poorwill. Description. — Similar to P. n. nuttalli , but paler throughout and a little smaller; the upper plumage decidedly paler and more blended; the black markings on scapulars, etc., much reduced, sometimes barely enlarged centrally. Length (skins) 182 (7.17); wing 133.8 (5.27); tail 80.2 (3.16). Remarks. — This form, disallowed by Ridgway, appears to be clearly established by a series of specimens obtained by Grinnell in the Colorado River Valley in the spring of 1910. Although typical nuttalli was also present at the same time, Mr. Grinnell decided, upon dissection, that the resident breeding form was nitidus, and that nuttalli was a winter visitant only. Range of P. n. nitidus. — Breeding from western Kansas south to Coahuila and west to southeastern Colorado, Lower California east of the central mountains, and in the Cape San Lucas region. Resident in the southern portion of its range. Distribution in California. — Resident in the Colorado River valley and on the Lower Sonoran deserts of southeastern California. Authorities. — Brewster, Auk, vol. iv., 1887, p. 147 (orig. desc.; Nueces River, Texas) ; Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, p. 157 (Death Valley ) \ Bishop, Condor, vol. vii., 1905, p. 142 (Witch Creek, San Diego Co.); Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zook, vol. xii., 1914, p. 139 (Colo. Valley, occurrence, meas., crit.). No. 207b Dusky Poorwill A. O. U. No. 418b. Phalaenoptilus nuttalli californicus Ridgway. Synonym. — California Poorwill. Description. — Adult: Similar to P. n. nuttalli, but darker; the black markings of scapulars, etc., larger; the black bars of underparts broader, the dusky element in 1054 Nuttall’s Poorwiil About J4 life size The Poorivills mottling strengthened on back and wing-coverts; the ochraceous element a little more pronounced throughout. Measurements about as in preceding. Range of P. n. californicus (chiefly within California). — Breeds in the Upper Sonoran and Lower Transition zones in California west of the Sierras, from about Latitude 40 south to northwestern Lower California and the San Pedro Martir Mount¬ ains. Resident in the southern portion of its range and irregularly north at least to San Benito County (Paicines, Mailliard). Migrant on the Santa Barbara Islands. Authorities.— Baird ( Antrostomus nuttalli), Rep. Stanbury’s Surv. Great Salt Lake, 1852, p. 327, part (Calif.); Ridgway , Man. N. Am. Birds, 1887, p. 588, footnote (orig. desc.); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. ii., 1895, p. 158; J. Mailliard, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, P- 45 * fig- (habits, nest, eggs; Marin Co.); van Rossem and Bowles , Condor, vol. xxii., 1920, p. 61, fig. (desc. nest and eggs; Los Angeles Co.). Photo by the Author Taken near Palm Springs CHOLLA CACTUS AT DESERT BASE OF SAN JACINTO MOUNTAINS A HAUNT OF THE DUSKY POORYVILL THE SUN has set and the last chore is done, all save carrying in the brimful pail of milk, which slowly yields tribute of escaping bubbles to the evening air. Sukey, with a vast sigh of relief, has sunk upon the ground, where, after summoning a consoling cud, she regards her master wonder- ingly. But the farmer boy is loth to quit the scene and to exchange the 1055 The Poor wills witching twilight for the homely glare of the waiting kerosene; so he lingers on his milk-stool watching the fading light in the western sky and dreaming, as only a boy can dream, of days which are yet to be. Every sense is lulled to rest, and the spirit comes forth to explore the lands beyond the hills, to conquer cities, discover poles, or scale the heights of heaven, when suddenly out of the stillness comes the plaintive cry of the Poor-will, Poor-will, poor-will. It is not a disturbing note, but rather the authentic voice of silence, the yearning of the bordering wilderness made vocal in appeal to the romantic spirit of youth. Poor Will! Poor Will! you think upon cities, actions, achievements; think rather upon solitude, upon quietness, upon lonely devotions. Come, oh, come to the wilderness, to the mystic, silent, fateful wastes! And ever after, even though duty call him to the city, to the stupid, stilling, roaring (and glorious) city, the voice of the Poor-will has wrought its work within the heart of the exiled farmer boy, and he owns a reverence for the silent places, a loyalty of affection for the wilderness, which not all the enforced subservience of things which creak or blare or shriek may fully efface. The Poor-will spends the day sleeping on the ground under the shelter of a sage-bush, or close beside some lichen-covered rock, to which its intricate pattern of plumage marvelously assimilates. When startled, by day, the bird emits a mellow quirp, quirp of protest, flits a few yards over the sage-tops and plumps down at haphazard. If it chances to settle in the full sunlight, it appears to be blinded and may allow a close approach; but if in the shade, one is not likely to surprise it again. Even after nightfall these fairy moth-catchers are much more terrestrial in their habits than are the Nighthawks. They alight upon the ground upon the slightest pretext and, indeed, appear most frequently to attain their object by leaping up at passing insects. They are more strictly nocturnal in habit, also, than the Night-jars, and we know of their later movements only through the intermittent exercise of song. Heard in some starlit canyon, the passing of a Poor-will in full cry is an indescribable experience, producing feelings somewhere between pleasure and fear, — pleasure in the delightful melancholy of the notes heard in the dim distance, but something akin to terror at the near approach and thrilling climax of the portentous sounds. Poor-wills are creatures of habit, and form very strong local attach¬ ments. Mr. Mailliard tells of a bird, at Hunter’s Camp, on the Rancho San Geronimo, which tuned up regularly at eight o’clock in the evening, insomuch that when on one occasion the camp time-piece had stopped, the Hunters served supper by the Poor-will’s call. Scientific veracity coun¬ sels me to add that the bird, sensing, no doubt, the humor of the thing, The Poorwills rang the bell ten minutes early, — a most forgivable offense. At our Goose Lake Camp in 1912, we were serenaded nightly by a pair of these birds which were wont to spend the slumberous hours of daylight on a jasper-strewn hillside hard by. Several times we got so near to a per¬ former that we heard a third note, a low, cutting sound, not unlike the bite of a whiplash. Poor -will-hip Poor-will- (wh)ip. At the conclusion of one performance the bird dropped his voice and repeated the notes with exceeding rapidity, as though he were try¬ ing to finish off his stent in a single breath. The official poor-will overture of the nightly operetta sometimes took place in an opening right in front of our tent. On one such occasion the bird, pre¬ sumably the male, took a station on top of a post and urged his suit loud¬ ly, while his mate sat on the ground below. At the conclusion of an im¬ passioned address, the serenader made an ama¬ tory dive at his enamo- rata, an overture which she deftly avoided. Then the wooer poured out his soul from another post and tried another dash ; whereupon both birds set out happily together, the female in the lead, and reechoing the male’s notes so distinctly that I am quite inclined to believe she is capable of crying Poor-will- (wh)ip herself. Photo by Wright M. Pierce DUSKY POORWILL, INCUBATING DESERT SLOPE OF THE SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAINS 1057 The Poor wills Taken in the hand, one sees what a quiet, inoffensive fay the Poor-will is, all feathers and itself a mere featherweight. The silken sheen and delicate tracery of the frost-work upon the plumage it were hopeless to describe. It is as though some fairy snowball had struck the bird full on the forehead, and from thence gone shivering, with ever lessening traces, all over the upperparts. Or, perhaps, to allow another fancy, the dust of the innumerable moth-millers, with which the bird is always wrestling, gets powdered over its garments. The large bristles which line the upper mandible, and which increase the catching capacity of the extensive gape by half, are seen to be really modified feathers, and not hairs, as might be supposed, for in younger specimens they are protected by little horny basal sheaths. With this equipment, and wings, our gentle hero easily becomes the envy of mere human entomologists. Taken in the Ojai Photo by Donald R. Dickey EGGS OF DUSKY POORWILL, IN SITU The Pacific Nighthawk Taken at Big Bear Lake THE OFFERING PACIFIC NIGHTHAWK DECOYING FROM NEST Photo by W. M. Pierce No. 208 Pacific Nighthawk A. 0. U. No. 42od. Chordeiles minor hesperis Grinnell. Synonym. — Bull-bat. Description. — Adult male: Mottled, black, gray, and ochraceous, and with white in patches; above, black predominating, especially on crown and back, mottling falling into indistinct bars on upper tail-coverts and tail; a touch of white on edge of wing in front of alula; the wing-quills dusky, the first primary usually exceeding or at least equal to the second; a large white transverse patch just within the basal half on the first five or six primaries (merely indicated on the outer web of the first) and opposite the tip of the eighth; a large inverted V-shaped throat-patch white; the chest, in sharp contrast, chiefly black with a few tawny tips; remaining underparts distinctly and finely barred, dusky and whitish with some faint ochraceous; the crissum pure white, usually barred at greater intervals than on breast; tail notched for half an inch 1059 The Pacific Nighthawk or so; a white band crossing tail near tip, except on central feathers. Bill without evident bristles, the horny part very small, but length of gape about an inch. Tarsus very short, the middle claw enlarged, and with a curious, horny, comb-like process on the inner edge. Adult female : Similar but without white band on tail, and with white patch on primaries often much reduced; throat-patch tinged with ochraceous, and suffusion of underparts by this color more pronounced, especially on crissum. Immature: More finely and heavily mottled than adults, and with upperparts more heavily marked, or even suffused with ochraceous buff. Length 228.6-254 (9.00-10.00) ; wing 200 (7.88) ; tail 1 12.9 (4.44); exposed culmen 7 (.276). Females a little smaller. Recognition Marks. — To appearance “little hawk” size — really smaller. Central white spot in long wing distinctive from all but C. acutipennis texensis , from which it requires further careful distinction. The wing of minor is not less “acute” but more so; but the bird is larger, blacker above, less ochraceous below; the white spot is larger, and not so near end of wing; flies higher; mizard (or bayard) notes dis¬ tinctive. Nesting. — Eggs: 2; deposited on the bare ground, often among rocks, sometimes upon a flat rock, or on the gravel roof of a tall building; grayish white or dull olive-buff, finely and uniformly spotted or speckled (rarely mottled or clouded) with various shades of olive, and brownish- or purplish-gray. Av. size 30 x 21.8 (1.18 x .86). Season: June; one brood. Range of Chordeiles minor. — North America; in winter migrating through the West Indies and Central America to Argentina. Range of C. m. hesperis. — The Pacific Coast district and the Sierro-Cascade system, breeding from southwestern British Columbia south coastally to Humboldt Bay, and Sierra-wise south to the San Bernardino Mountains. Winter home unknown (the form being somatically almost indistinguishable from typicus). Distribution in California. — Summer resident in high Transition and Boreal zones in northern California from the Warners to the Coast, and south through the Sierras and adjacent highlands to Tulare County. Also in the San Bernardino Mount¬ ains. Probably also on the summits of the higher desert ranges north of Death Valley. Scattering appearances during migrations. Authorities. — Heermann ( Chordeiles virginianus), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, ii., 1853, p. 261 (Calif.) ; Grinnell, Condor, vol. vii., 1905, p. 170 (orig. desc. ; type locality, Bear Lake, San Bernardino Mts.); ibid., Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. v., 1908, p. 67 (San Bernardino Mts., habits, etc.) ; Bryant, Condor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 92 (food); Oberholser, U. S. Nat. Mus., Bull. no. 86, 1914, p. 46 (monogr.) ; Pierce, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 179, fig. (desc. and photo, of nest and eggs; San Bernardino Mts.). THE NIGHTHAWK is the laggard among the western migrants, and it is always something of an event when his pouting notes, bayard, bayard, first break upon the stillness of the evening air. We crane our necks, too, to catch the first glimpse of the season — in mid-May, or later, according to altitude. The way of the Nighthawk in the air is, perhaps, the most varied, certainly the most eccentric, of any of the feath¬ ered kind. He seems such a frail thing, as he goes tottering and careening across the sky. We half expect to see him collapse, like a broken butter¬ fly, or else get blown out of bounds. Now he minces along, like a school 1060 The Pacific Night hawk girl ; now he races to and fro in a frenzy; and now he glides along smoothly with the ease and stateliness of a gondola. He is a more dignified bat, graceful at times, but always a bit uncanny. But the “bull-bat” knows exactly what he is about, and he is playing the air game for the maximum of gastronomic profit. EGGS OF PACIFIC NIGHTHAWK, IN SITU With a mouth like the opening of a butterfly net, and a stomach to match, this winged bug-hunter is one of the world’s most successful entomologists. Everything with a pinched-in waist is grist to his mill- chinch bugs, squash-bugs, J une-bugs, any old bugs. One Nighthawk stomach under examination gave up seventeen species of beetles at one time. Another, nineteen entire grasshoppers. Another, parts of thirty- eight. But if the bull-bat has a specialty, it is flying ants. Dr. Grinnell took a stomach which held 43 of our large-winged white ants (and of these some were still alive fifteen hours after capture) ; while Professor Beal took one individual whose crop was gorged with 1800 of a small variety. Nighthawks are not so strictly nocturnal as are the Poor-wills, for they put a quite liberal construction on the word “twilight," and are 1061 The Pacific Night hawk sure to avail themselves of all cloudy days. In fact, they move about at will whenever the sun slants fairly. The middle hours of the day are spent upon the ground, or if in timbered country, crouched lengthwise upon a tree limb. For the latter situation nature has devised a special apparatus in the shape of a comb-like process along the inner edge of the middle claw of each foot. The feet and legs being, for lack of other use, very weak, this pectination of the middle claw must be of material service in enabling the bird to retain its footing on a rounding surface of bark. It is in these hours of the middle siesta that the intricate color pattern of the plumage makes the bird appear — or rather disappear — to the greatest advantage against the variegated setting of bark or rock. A Nighthawk on the ground is all but invisible — and knows it. The Nighthawk, or Goatsucker family (or order), the Caprimulgidce, is chiefly of tropical or subtropical distribution. To those, therefore, who are familiar with the Chuck-will’s-widow ( Antrostomus carolinensis) and Whip-poor-will ( A . vociferus ) of the southeast, or even with the eastern Nighthawk (C. m. minor), it comes as a surprise to learn that our bird is Transitional, or even Boreal in its Californian range. I know I was Taken at Big Bear Lake Photo by Pierce 1062 AN UNUSUAL TYPE The Pacific Nighthawk startled to see it on July 5, 1911, charging about over the melting snow¬ banks at the Cottonwood Lakes (elevation 11,000 feet); though it seems I should have been more surprised to find it on the 19th of June at Lone Pine, where the Texas Nighthawk (C. acutipennis texensis ) is supposed to reign supreme. In the latter instance, it is fair to suppose that the bird had only descended temporarily from the Sierran heights which command Owens Valley. Mrs. Bailey1 once found a nest on the crest of the Sierra Nevada Range, above Donner Lake. The Pacific Nighthawk is a com¬ mon breeding bird in the San Bernardino Range, and Dr. Grinnell took eggs at an altitude of 9000 feet on San Gorgonio Peak; though, singu¬ larly enough, the species is wanting in the San Jacinto Range, of almost equal elevation, immediately to the south. While not at any time strictly gregarious, favorable conditions are likely to attract considerable numbers of Nighthawks to a given spot. I have seen dozens of birds at a time winging noiselessly to and fro over the tranquil waters of an inland lake, and on several occasions com¬ panies of from one to two hundred executing some grand march, or aerial parade, over a well-watered pasture. These convocations are not neces¬ sarily preliminary to the autumnal movement, for I once saw such an assemblage at Goose Lake, in Modoc County, on the 23rd of June (1912). It had snowed the day before, so possibly these birds had been driven in from the hills to a place of assured sustenance, much as Swallows are driven to the ponds in early spring. During migration, too, scores of these birds may sometimes be seen moving aloft in loose array, and customarily, at this season, silent. The feature of Nighthawk life which chiefly endears him to the popular regard is the courting flight of the male. After much preliminary shifting and many emphatic bayards he suddenly casts himself headlong down the air in a great parabola of flight. As he turns sharply and at break-neck speed, he produces a loud booming daw-w — though whether by the rushing of air through the wings or across the opened mouth will, perhaps, never be determined. The eggs of the Nighthawk are heavily mottled with slaty and other tints, which render them practically invisible to the searching eye, even though they rest upon the bare ground or, as oftener, upon an exposed and lichen-covered rock ledge. Except during the very warmest hours (when the sun’s rays might addle them) and the coolest(when they might become chilled), the sitting bird is likely to rest beside her eggs instead of on them. The young birds when hatched place great reliance upon their protective coloration, and even permit the fondling of the hand rather than contess the defect of their fancied security. The old bird, meanwhile, has flut- 1 cf. Bird Lore, Vol. V., March, 1903, pp. 43-45 IO63 The Texas Nighthawk tered away over the ground with uncertain wing and drooping tail to drop at last on the very point of death. Or failing in this ruse, she is charging about in midair with plaintive cries. Look upon the babies for the last time, for they will be spirited away before your return, — borne off, it is said, between the thighs of the parent bird. No. 209 Texas Nighthawk A. O. U. No. 421. Chordeiles acutipennis texensis Lawrence. Synonyms. — Formerly called Texan Nighthawk. Bull-bat. Mosquito Hawk. Description. — Somewhat similar in general appearance and color-pattern to preceding species. Adult male: Above and on breast finely mottled black, whitish, dusky, and ochraceous; throat white, chest whitish, almost entirely overlaid with ochraceous tips; remaining underparts, including crissum, chiefly ochraceous, finely barred with black and some white centrally; white patch on wing lying well outside of middle point between tips of seventh and fifth primaries, and involving first four primaries only; the first primary usually falling short of the second (hence, notably more rounded instead of more acute than C. minor) ; tail somewhat emarginate and crossed by subterminal white band, as before, the basal portion more distinctly blackish- and-ochraceous-barred. Bill dusky; legs and feet brownish, claws black, the pectination on inner edge of middle claw reduced, light brown; iris dark brown. Adult female: Similar to male, but without white band on tail; the patch on primaries reduced, pale cinnamon or tawny; the throat patch reduced and margined by ochraceous, or else entirely pale tawny. Young birds: Body plumage entirely pale ochraceous, spotted finely but sparingly with dusky. Length 203.2-241.3 (8.00-9.50); wing 183 (7. 21); tail 1 1-1.5 (4-39); exposed culmen 6 (.236); tarsus 14 (.55). Females slightly smaller. Recognition Marks. — Towhee size, but appearing larger; white spot beyond middle of wing; smaller, lighter, and more ochraceous than C. minor hesperis. Nesting. — Eggs: 2; oval or elliptical-ovate; laid on bare ground, sand, or gravel of desert; dull white, rarely pale olive buffy or greenish, finely speckled (sometimes absolutely) with dark olive, dark grayish olive, and violet-gray, rarely sharp-spotted with olivaceous black and grayish olive. Av. size 26.8 x 19.6 (1.06 x .77). Season: May — June; Shandon, San Luis Obispo County, April 17, 1916. Range of Chordeiles acutipennis. — Southwestern United States from southern Utah south through the greater portion of South America. Range of C. a. texensis. — Breeds in Lower Sonoran zone, from central California, southern Nevada, southern Utah, and southern Texas, south to southern Mexico and Cape San Lucas; winters south to Panama. Distribution in California. — Common summer resident in Lower Sonoran zone practically throughout the southern half of California. On the east side of the Sierras, north to Bishop; on the west, north to Stanislaus County, Glenn County, and (perhaps casually) Ukiah, Mendocino County. One winter record, Long Beach, Jan. 31, 1911. 1064 The Texas Nighthawk 1 858, Authorities— Baird ( Chordeiles texsnsis), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix. p. 154 (Colo. R., Calif.) ; Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. ii. , 1895, p. 172, pi. iii., figs. 7-10 (eggs); Taylor , Condor, vol. xiv., 1912, p. 222, fig. (Winslow, Glenn Co.' breeding); Oberholser, U. S. Nat. Mus., Bull. no. 86, 1914, p. 103 (monogr.) ; Swarth, Birds of the Papago Saguaro Nat. Mon., 1920, p. 38 (courting “song,” habits’ etc.). Taken in San Fernando Valley Photo by the Author EGGS OF TEXAS NIGHTHAWK. IN SITU THE NATURE loving pilgrim camping for a night in some desert wash will have occasion to wonder at a strange burring croak which wells up out of the ground, apparently from nowhere in particular. It is a weird sound, low, monotonous, and impersonal, — drowsy, too, if one can ignore the challenge of its mystery. It is the voice of a giant frog grown weary in a waterless land. Or it is the voice of the desert itself murmur¬ ing its gratitude before the cooling touch of nightfall. Pan wakes at this hour in yonder mountain glade and summons all his satyrs to revel, but here in the desert silence reigns, silence and the sole mystery of sound. The traveler sleeps, and rousing midway of his dreams, he seems to hear two voices, two deserts answering from nowhere. But each utters the self-same silence, bidding him resign again to slumber. The Texas Night hawk The most gifted imagination would scarcely ascribe this geophonic serenade to a pair of birds. But the Texas Nighthawks are responsible, as any one may learn who has the fortune to stumble upon their eggs at nightfall. The hour is important, for were the brooding bird to be dis¬ turbed in broad daylight she would merely lift over the sage-brush, flit a few yards, plump down again, and that would be the last of it. But at dusk there is more activity. The bird retires, indeed, but she summons her mate and they set up, at near ranges, always from the ground, that quaint batrachian wail, which is intended, no doubt, rather to charm than to frighten. Heard at close quarters, the note is again seen to be well sustained and nearly continuous, save that it breaks now and then to a lower note, apparently while the bird is taking breath. (This sound can be passably imitated, I find, by attempting an “Italian A” low and soft with the uvula half shut instead of wide open.) But the serenaders are ill at ease now. The sound changes abruptly to a staccato complaint, an excited clucking, breathlessly interspersed with more musical notes: toot toot toot oo ank ah toot toot ah wank ah toot toot toot oo toot. Both birds utter these notes, and as they rise and flit restlessly to and fro, or make suggestive passes at the intruder’s head, they sound like flying banjos picked by unseen fingers. How unclassifiable these notes really are may be guessed from the varied attempts at description already Taken in Merced County 1066 THE NESTLINGS Photo by the Author The Texas Night hawk Taken in Merced County Paolo by the Author PROTECTIVE COLORATION ONLY THE TELL-TALE EYE REMAINS TO GIVE THE CHICK AWAY recorded. One observer speaks of the bird’s “mewing,” another of its “humming,” and a third likens the terrestrial serenade song to “the dis¬ tant and very rapid tapping of a large woodpecker.” Texas Nighthawks bear a close superficial resemblance to the more widely known Chordeiles minor , and their appearance a-wing is not par¬ ticularly different. They are, however, less active and, above all, less venturesome on the wing. They do not favor high levels of air nor attempt the aerial stunts of minor , but they flit about modestly over the sage tops, or else leap up off the ground at their winged prey. Texas Nighthawks are also quite sociable, especially toward the close of the breeding season, and hundreds may sometimes be seen in favored valleys, or over such bodies of water as abound in insects. While nesting may be conducted at any remove from water, it is probable that the birds make daily visits to water-holes, and drink “hen-fashion,” or else dip on the wing from some of the larger surfaces. Though they endure the extreme heat of the desert, they cannot be quite insensible to it, for they retire to Transition levels with the advancing season. The highest altitude of The Texas Nighthawk recorded occurrence is perhaps that of Sugarloaf in the San Bernardinos, where Grinnell found them on August 20th, at 7500 feet. It is doubtless improper to speak of the “nesting” of the I exas Nighthawk. Nest she has none, but her two eggs are laid upon the bare ground, and this almost of necessity is of some complexion of sand. The parched spaces between creosote bushes, where the particles of soil, Taken near San Diego Photo by Donald R. Dickey MR. DICKEY TAKES ADVANTAGE OF THE SHADOWS although fine, are still so hot that they hate each other, are one type of bottom. The coarse granitic sand poured out of Tujunga Canyon by the winter freshets is another. The gravel beds of the desert ranges whose component pebbles are sered by volcanic acids are a third. 1 f the eggs have any cover at all, it is the accidental shade of some scraggly bush, and when uncovered they are the very color of the ground. Or, to be exact, their ground-color is dull white or pale grayish white, rarely greenish or pinkish gray. The markings, of olive or bister, are finely comminuted (4800 pigment strokes to the square inch in one specimen in my collection), or, rarely, coarsely and sparingly spotted; still more rarely, marks are altogether wanting. 1068 The Texas Night hawk Although so careless of her eggs at first, the bird’s attachment grows as incubation advances. So devoted does she become that she will suffer the intruder at three or four feet, and has even been taken by the hand. The assertion that the Texas Nighthawk does not employ the decoy ruse is incorrect, for when the chicks are hatched the mother will flutter away enticingly, like any other ground-nesting species. The young birds are much lighter in coloration than the parent, being assimi¬ lated, apparently, to the stronger lighting which prevails in summer. A baby Texas, squatting motionless in a naked stretch of alkali, is the acme of invisibility, for its warm silvery tints exhibit the very sheen of the impregnated earth. Two crops of babies are due in one season, and nesting ranges from the middle of April to the first week in August. Oberholser, in his Monograph of the genus Chordeiles, gives April as the month of arrival for this species “in the southwestern United States,” with an exceptional record of March 21st, and others in the middle of May. Our records would indicate that arrival during the last week in March is at least not exceptional. Dr. Grinnell saw one individ¬ ual at Chemehuevis on March 9th, 1910, but did not observe another in the Lower Colorado Valley until March 27th. I saw a single bird at Long Beach on the evening of January 30th, 1911, and Mr. C. B. Linton, who was with me, agreed that it could be none other than this species. The return movement sets in in September, but October records are not rare. The name acutipennis is, of course, most unfortunate, for the wing of C. a. texensis is not as “acute” as that of C. m. hesperis. While the relative length of the outer primaries is variable in both species, the outermost is longer than the next ones (hence the wing more pointed) in 85 percent of the cases in C. minor; while it is shorter (with the tip of the wing definitely rounded) in 75 per cent of the examples of C. acutipennis. Endless confusion, therefore, exists in all sight records, especially along the northern limits of this bird’s range. Careful discrimination will probably show that texensis is gradually extending its range northward, and it may be expected to appear in time as far north as Red Bluff or Redding. 1069 The American Barn Owl No. 210 American Barn Owl A. O. U. No. 365. Tyto perlata pratincola (Bonaparte). Synonyms. — Monkey-faced Owl. Tawny Owl. White Owl. Description. — Adult in medium plumage: General color-tone ochraceous tawny (above) and ochraceous buff (below); upperparts ochraceous tawny basally and in broad irregularly irruptive edgings, overlaid with finely mottled ashy gray and dusky; the tail crossed by four or five bars of dusky, the wing quills similarly marked, or else with alternating half-bars, the inner webs changing to white; underparts ochraceous buff or pale tawny, irregularly mingled with white, and marked sparingly and diffusely with rounded or wedge-shaped spots of blackish ; facial disc of feathers having a peculiar¬ ly loose, open, but stiff texture, white, but variously stained with reddish brown, purplish brown, or claret, the characteristic color concentrated in solid spot in front of eye; the “rim” of close-set, shortened feathers colored like back and eye-spot (hence epitomizing the individual tone of the specimen in hand). Bill light-colored or horny- stained, claws dark horn. Dark extreme: Underparts dark ochraceous tawny; color of facial disc correspondingly intensified; dusky of upperparts stronger, or not. Light extreme: Upperparts chiefly ochraceous buff, the dusky mottling much reduced in area and intensity; underparts pure white or barely touched with buffy, the dusky spots smaller, reduced in number, or wanting; facial disc without stain; eye-spot lighter brown. Remark: These variations, sometimes referred to as “phases,” are held by most authorities to be independent of age or sex; but Ridgway says in a footnote: “Apparently, however, females average darker than males.” This suggestion receives striking confirmation from a series of 25 specimens in the Berkeley museum, where the darkest specimens/four in number, are all females; and the white birds, six in number, are without exception males. Moreover, the intergradation is so perfect as to suggest that females are progressively darker and males progressively lighter with age. Downy young are pure white, and have strikingly elongated faces, suggesting the primitive character of this group of owls. Length of adult males: 355.6-406.4 (14.00-16.00); wing 328.6 (12.94); tail 138.1 (5.44); culmen from cere 22.1 (.87); tarsus 73.3 (2.88). Females average a little larger. Recognition Marks. — Crow size; tawny or white coloration; rostrum (the beak with its bony support) elongated; facial disc, therefore, triangular, or heart-shaped. Nesting. — Nest: A cranny in cliff or building, or burrow in bank, or natural cavity in tree; unlined, save occasionally by hair and bones cast up by bird. Eggs: 4 to 9, rarely 10 or 11 (24 of record); white, lusterless, ovate, short-ovate, or rarely elongate, very variable as to length. Av. of 34 California-taken specimens in the M. C. O. colls.: 42.4 x 32 (1.67 x 1.26); index 75. Season: March-June; January to September of record; one or two broods. Range of Tyto perlata. — North and Middle America. Range of T. p. pratincola. — North America, breeding from about Latitude 40 or 42, south to southern Mexico, and casually north to the northern tier of states. Distribution in California. — Resident in Lower and Upper Sonoran life zones practically throughout the State. Northernmost record on the coast, Trinidad, Humboldt County, June 17, 1916. Also found sparingly upon the Channel Islands. IO70 -• ijssr-,*. r-.: av- - - ■ ; ■ -' . American Barn Owl About y? life size The American Earn Owl Authorities. — Gambel (Strix pratincola ), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii., 1846, p. 47 (Calif.); Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, i., 1847, p. 28 (Calif.; distr. syn., habits, etc.); Fisher, Hawks and Owls of the U. S., 1893, p. 132, pi. 19 (food); Miller, Condor, vol. xii., 1910, p. 12 (fossil); Tyler, Condor, vol. xvii, 1915, p. 57 (San Joaquin Valley; nest, food, habits, etc.). IF ABILITY and worth are to count for anything, the Barn Owl, and not the Moon, ought to be the Queen of the Night. Whoever thought of calling the blear-eyed old man in the moon a “queen” anyhow? Not to mention the mistake in sex, his derelictions are notorious. He is off the job half the time, though he manages to keep the world in the dark as to his misdoings in absentia. He is an inveterate tippler, — that we know. I have myself seen him “take a horn” — two of them, in fact. And that he goes on a spree and gets full every month is the scandal of the heavens. He rises at irregular hours, and for days after the big debauch his friend Phoebus has to help him to bed. Away with this tradition of moonly virtues! Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by I ierce THE SIESTA NOTE GRADATION IN SIZE OF THESE INFANTS IO71 The American Barn Owl Taken in San Luis Obispo County Photo by the Author A ’DOBE NESTING CLIFF But consider, I pray, the merits of the Barn Owl. She is on duty 365 nights in the year. Rising punctually when the sun is well set, she sallies lorth to review and regulate her realm with tireless diligence. Softer than silk, or than any similitude, are her aerial floatings. All gentle things trust her, and none save mischief-makers have aught to fear from her gentle sway. As for her beauty, who may say that in her robes of white, overlaid with filmiest laces of the dusk and set out with burnishings of ochraceous gold, she is not, indeed, the fairest of night birds, and entitled as such to unbroken rule? I hough the populace hoots, as it always has, when confronted with claims which it does not understand, and dishonors this gentle bird with such a vulgar name as “Monkey-faced Owl,” on those occasions, fortunately rare, when our heroine is dragged forth into the disabling light of day, we insist that this is Beauty’s self, and Aphrodite’s double, appointed for the rulership of Night. But when the “Night-bird” sings — ah, there is pause, food for medita¬ tion and regret. For, like the lordly peacock, bird of Juno, the Barn Owl 10/2 The American Barn Owl has been saddled with a most unmelodious voice. She does not know it, poor thing, and fills the night, therefore, with screeches which seem the very soul of petulance or hate. This challenge note of the Barn Owl is harsh beyond all expression, a snarling churr, ground out between clenched teeth. 1 do not know where Lewis Carroll thinks he got the name for his impossible animal, the “Snark”; but I suggest that it came subcon¬ sciously from the Barn Owl’s cry, snarrk. By this sound we know that the Barn Owl is abroad, and by the sustained succession of these sounds, we judge that the Barn Owl spends more time a-wing than do any of the Strigine owls. Aluco1 is a tire¬ less quester, the buzzard of the night, pausing only, and that very fre¬ quently, when its prey is spotted on the ground. The function of the snarrk cry is not exactly known, although the birds do hunt more or less in pairs, and may wish to keep in touch, however distantly. It is more probable, however, that snark is a joy cry, and expresses the bird’s delight in the prospects of the chase, or its exultation over life lived under the tipsy beams of the swelling moon. In the springtime this joy of life, or else the passion of love, urges the Barn Owl to more extended effort. Fluttering his wings softly, with head uplifted, and as it were, dancing in midair, the bird says crick crick crick crick crick crick crick, in a sort of ecstatic chant. Or again, the note is doubled, witta witta witta, in breathless cadence, while the bird drifts slowly about with no other thought, apparently, than to maintain Taken near Escondido Photo by J. B. Dixon NEST AND EGGS OF AMERICAN BARN OWL 1 Formerly so called. 1073 The American Barn Owl himself aloft and voice his uttermost passion to the stars. Both of these performances are likely to occur in perfection immediately after the Owl has left the cramped cjuarters of his diurnal retreat, and he sees the tooth¬ some field mice stretched out before him in unending vistas. These characterizations, I dare say, are partly local, and they may differ en¬ tirely from experiences in the East or in the Old World. I am very sure, for example, that the cries of birds heard in the summer of 1918 in northern Nevada were lighter, sharper, and clearer in quality than those to be heard in southern California. The Nevada birds, moreover, have a much more considerable repertory. The Barn Owl is the most strictly nocturnal of all owls; that is to say, it “rises” later, and “sets” earlier, usually a good half hour before sunrise. It occupies by day, also, the darkest of available retreats; but the birds are so abundant and so well distributed that they must avail themselves of a great variety of hiding places. Buildings are in good demand, barns, attics, vine-covered porches, tank-houses, towers and belfries. Niches and tiny grottoes in the cliffs are sure of attracting Barn Owls, no matter 1074 EVEN BABY OWLS SOMETIMES IMBIBE TOO MUCH MOON¬ SHINE The American Barn Owl what their outlook, pro¬ vided only that the local accommodations are con¬ venient. For this reason Tyto occasionally figures as a seabird. Certain favored cliffs of sand¬ stone in the inner coast ranges fairly swarm with Barn Owls, and their presence may be known by the generous smears of “whitewash” which decorate the skirts of long frequented ledges. Next after cliffs come the steep-walled barrancas, those sharp-cut dis¬ charge-pipes which gash our alluvial fans, or pur¬ sue a somber course to the sea. Here, and along the banks of rivers, the Barn Owls rest and doze “in quantities.” They are able to dig their own retreats, generous tunnels driven to a depth of three or four feet, and under such circumstances are unmolested by that tyrant of the cliffs, the Prairie Falcon. Even here there is danger at flood time. A friend’s friend, who happened to be near the San Juan River (in San Luis Obispo County) when the stream was on the rampage, heard a muffled crash, and looking up, saw a frantic Barn Owl emerge from a tunnel, whose innermost recess had been barely spared by the caving bank. Several other birds, to the observer’s belief, were carried down helpless by neighboring disasters. In default of more stately quarters the birds will also seek hollows in trees, while in many regions they have to comfort themselves, for roosting at least, with nothing better than thick foliage. Now and then I have startled Barn Owls from the innermost depths of Phoenix palms, and 1 have no doubt that our native palms of the desert (Washingtonia filif era) harbor their quota. Of course the nesting places are in part identical with the roosting places. The first token of occupation, present or past, is the flamboyant Taken in San Diego County Photo by Dickey A LANGUID PRETENSE OF DECOYING 1075 The American Barn Owl whitewash, — excrement wherein the calcium of unassimilated bone-stuffs figures predominantly. But the second token, the refuse heap, is more interesting and more instructive. Below or beside each nest is an accumu¬ lation, sometimes decades old, of mammal-skulls, fur, and feathers, in part rejected portions from the banqueting table, but chiefly pellets, or “casts,” indigestible portions of food which are automatically ejected from the bird’s crop when the edible portions have been released. Barn Owls are prodigious eaters, and it becomes important to examine their table and their garbage can, both qualitatively and quan¬ titatively. As to quan¬ tity, I have seen dumps which contained not less than three bushels of material, with hundreds of skulls apparent on a superficial examination. Not even this represents the original mass, for in the older of the Aluco- nine kitchen middens, the lower strata have disintegrated and set¬ tled. The Barn Owl’s table, too, is always set. The youngsters are not only fed diligently all night, but a generous store is laid by for day¬ light lunches. The poor dears are sure to need a “piece,” you know! Thus, Fred Truesdale found six mice, three rats, and two gophers in a nest containing seven young. Tyler, of Fresno, found a nest containing four very small birds and six eggs, for which the following provision had been made: five Pocket Gophers (Thomomys) , Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce A WELL EARNED VIEW ioy6 Portrait of Young Barn Owl From a photograph by Donald R. Dickey Taken near Lakeside The American Barn Owl five Kangaroo Rats ( Perodipus ), one Pocket Mouse ( Perognathus ), and two White-footed Mice ( Peromyscus ). And Finley has said:' “An old Owl will capture as much or more food than a dozen cats in a night. The owlets are always hungry; they will eat their own weight in food every night and more if they could get it. A case is on record where a half- grown owl was given all the mice it could eat. It swallowed eight in rapid succession. The ninth followed all but the tail, which for some time hung out of the bird’s mouth. The rapid digestion of the Raptores is shown by the fact that in three hours the little glutton w*as ready for a second meal and swallowed four additional mice.” With this enormous capacity for destruction it becomes of real con¬ cern for us to know just what the Barn Owl eats. Exhaustive studies have been made by Government officials, studies which prove that the Barn Owl is without peer in the economic restraint of mice, moles, shrews, rats, and gophers. In its destruction of pocket gophers alone a single Barn Owl is worth from twenty to fifty dollars per annum to the State of California. When to this is added its services in destroying meadow mice of the Micro- tus group, the bird’s economic value is beyond calculation. Regarding the Barn Owd’s relations to the bird world, it has to be confessed that the smaller birds do appear occasionally upon its bill of fare. The proportion of birds found in an eastern investigation, for example, was nearly five per cent. But at that the adverse count is neg¬ ligible in comparison with its overwhelming services. The Barn Owl is certainly the least destructive to bird life of all owls, and we suspect that the percentage of destruction in the West is materially less than in the East. Much may be learned in this regard from the attitude of the smaller birds. Thus, the Sparrow Hawk ( Cerchneis sparverius ), which only rarely attacks birds, goes and comes unnoticed by the smaller songsters, whereas the slightest movement of the Sharp-shinned Hawk is accompanied by a wave of apprehension. The facts regarding a night prowler are more difficult to get at, for his feathered victims are presumably asleep when the silent bolt falls. All I can say is that the accidental disturbance of a Barn Owl at midday is never attended by the hue and cry which invariably follows the course of a Horned Owl, or even a Screech Owl. The birds do not recognize Tyto as an enemy, if he is one. Mr. Brooks, here at Santa Barbara, saw a Burrowing Owl attack a Barn Owl sharply and put him to flight, but he wms probably actuated by professional jealousy. On the other hand, I once had a pretty proof that at least one song bird does not fear the Barn Owl. The Barn Owl is nothing if not methodical. For some months past a bird in returning from the nightly hunt has passed exactly over the peak of our house, and barely clearing it, — using the point, 'Condor, Vol. VIII., July, 1906, p. 87. 1077 The American Barn Owl apparently, as a landmark for his southward course. A Mockingbird this past season (1918) chose a point on the eaves immediately in line with this flight (and within eight feet of my head), for his midnight and all- night serenades. Thus, Owl and Mocker saw each other every morning; and once, under a full moon, I roused in time to see Tyto pass squarely over the mimic’s head, and that not over six feet away. Vet the Mocker “never turned a hair,” nor admitted by a catch in his voice that anything unpleasant had transpired. These birds at least understood each other. This industrious mouser is, fortunately, both prolific and abundant. In favored sections it appears to nest twice in the season, and since sets average six or eight in number — from that up to ten ! — it may be seen that Mr. and Mrs. Tyto are not afraid of hard work. After flushing a bird from hard-set eggs I have seen a pretty pantomime. The bird returned to a point on the ledge hard by, and, fluffing its feathers to the utmost, began to flutter and prance about, as though it were trying to stand on a hot stove-lid. But this is unusual. Ordinarily the bird leaves the nest by a downward sweep, and makes off hurriedly to hide in some remembered cranny in the near neighborhood. This is especially the case if Prairie Falcons happen to be nesting on the same cliff. The Falcon is a heartless tyrant, and in this hour of his anxiety, he rejoices in a chance to vent his spite upon an innocent Barn Owl. Only luck can save the Owl. Some I have seen smashed in midair, and others merely bowled over, to rise wrathful but silent, and scramble into cover before a second bolt should fall. Barn Owls’ eggs are notably different in shape from those of other owls, being elongate or truly oval, instead of rounded, as in the Strigidce. The index is 76, as against an average of, say, 83.5 for the other group. This points strongly to an ancient separation of stock. The eggs are laid upon the bare floor of a cavity, or else upon whatever chance accumula¬ tion of disintegrated pellets, or other incognoscenda may offer. The place is sure to be filthy, and before the youngsters are done with it, the stench is likely to be overpowering. Eggs are deposited every other day, or irregularly; and incubation begins immediately, so that the youngsters arrive seriatim, and are most accurately graded in size. The parents try to be fair, but the youngest frequently arrives too late, for what helpless infant could hope to thrive after having been stepped on, whether pur¬ posely or no, by an eighteen-day-old brother! When intruded upon, the young family will hiss like a nest of snakes, and throw themselves in various defensive postures. The babes, in their close covering of white wool, are comical looking creatures, but they do not scruple to press home a set of claws which are sharp as needles; so perhaps it is just as well not to try to chuck them under the chin. The older birds will fight like demons 1078 The American Barn Owl when closely pressed, and one soon comes to see what a powerful as well as alert foe the wicked gopher has to fear. Their feeding habits, also, are not fastidious. The rending of a rat carcass would be a terrifying sight if the birds were, say, a hundred times as large. The head of the victim goes down first, probably because the brains are the most delec¬ table morsel, and the rest follows piecemeal, “hide, horns and hair.” But the case is not hopeless, for punctual to the minute the skull reap¬ pears, and later the clothes of the late lamented, done up in a neat pack¬ age. Thomomys, he of the tireless tooth, who loves our choicest vege¬ tables and most expensive flower-bulbs, he shall have, thus, a befitting monument, — the skull and bundle. Hail, beneficent deliverer! Queen of the Night! Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by li right M. Pierce SHAKE HANDS! 1079 The Long-eared Owl No. 211 Long-eared Owl A. 0. U. No. 366. Asio otus wilsonianus (Lesson). Description. — Adult: Above finely mottled white and dusky, with apparently half-concealed ochraceous on subterminal margins of feathers, the design broadened on wings, — ochraceous, white, and dusky in patches; the wing-quills and tail distinctly barred — dusky with ochraceous basally, dusky with gray terminally; ear-tufts conspicu¬ ous, an inch or more in length, black centrally, with white and ochraceous edges; facial disc tawny; region about base of bill, or at least chin, white; blackish about eyes on inner sides, the edges, especially on forehead, finely mottled with black and white; tibiae, tarsi, and feet pale tawny, immaculate; remaining underparts white, ochraceous, and dusky, in bold, free pattern, and upper breast distinctly and heavily streaked, the sides and flanks distinctly barred, the belly exhibiting a combination of the two types; lining of wing pale tawny, unmarked basally, save for a dusky patch on tips of coverts, heavily barred distally. Bill and toe-nails blackish. The folded wings exceed the tail, and the bill is nearly concealed by black and white bristles. Nestlings: Everywhere, except on head and lining of wings, finely barred dusky and gray or ochraceous. Length 330.2-406.4 (13.00-16.00); wing 285.8-304.8 (1 1. 25-12. 00) ; tail 146.1-158.8 (5.75-6.25); bill from nostril 16 (.64); tarsus 38.1-45.7 (1.50-1.80). Recognition Marks. — Little hawk to crow size; a strongly marked and unmis¬ takable species; the “horns” taken in connection with its size are sufficient to identify it. Nesting. — Nest: Usually a deserted nest of crow, magpie, heron, etc.; sometimes in rock-rifts or even on the ground. Eggs: 3 to 6; subspherical, white (or not infrequent¬ ly red-spotted with nest-marks). Av. size 40.6 x 32.8 (1.60 x 1.29). Season: February —May; one brood. Range of Asio otus. — Eurasia and temperate North America. Range of A. 0. wilsonianus. — Temperate North America ; breeding from southern Mackenzie, Quebec and Newfoundland, south to Virginia, Arkansas, northern Texas, and southern California; wintering from southern Canada, irregularly south to central Mexico. Distribution in California. — Locally resident, chiefly in interior valleys, on the oak-covered foothills, and along wooded streams of the Upper Sonoran zone, south (at least formerly) to San Diego. Sparingly resident on the Santa Barbara Islands (Catalina and San Clemente), and an occasional invader- of the higher mountains; White Mountains at 10,500 feet, May 26, 1919; San Jacinto Peak at 9000 (Grinned and Swarth); San Bernardinos at 7000 (Willett) . Numbers augmented in winter, at least in San Diego district and on the edges of the deserts (Palm Springs, Jan. 28, 1913). Authorities.- — Baird ( Otus wilsonianus), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 53 (Bodega, Calif.) ; Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. i., 1892, p. 328, pi. 12, fig. 2 (egg); Fisher, Hawks and Owls of the U. S., 1893, p. 140, pi. 20 (food); Tyler, Condor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 17 (San Joaquin Valley, desc., nest and eggs); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 58 (s. Calif, ids.). BEING strictly nocturnal in habit, and comparatively silent so long as undisturbed, this Owl would almost pass from our ken were it not for the easy opportunities afforded by the nesting season. Although 1080 The Long-eared Owl Taken in San Luis Obispo County BRISTLING IN DEFENSE Photo by the Author it is really fairly common throughout the state, and nests regularly in live oaks and evergreens, it is only in the neighborhood of open country, and especially along the borders of willow-lined “Sonoran” streams, that it may be studied to advantage. Here, in March or early April, one frightens the male, or “bull” Owl, from some thicket of willow limbs or cottonwood; and, if he is wise, he immediately casts about for the nearest nest, no matter how dilapidated, of Crow or Magpie. And here, above the melee of crisscross sticks, themselves like sticks, save as betrayed by the breezes, may be seen the faintly waving plumicorns of the female, sitting very close. Only those who have been there, know what a treat is in store. My first experience came on the shores of Lake ( helan. A likely looking Crow’s nest, ten feet up in a willow clump, tempted inspection. Upon my approach an Owl slipped noiselessly from the nest and left me to plan the ascent through an ugly tangle of saplings. As I started in I heard the overture of a caterwauling contest, just as when Thomas remarks, “ We-a-o-o-a-ow, ” and Nature catches her breath 1081 The Long-eared Owl Taken in Washington to hear what Maria will say. I paused and can¬ vassed the morale of my contemplated action; then hastily reviewed the chances of wild-cats; and then reached for my gun. Not until I had actually seen the mother bird, for it was she, emit¬ ting one of those grue¬ some squalls, could I believe that the noise came from an Owl. Even after doubt was at rest, the cry seemed not less like the snarl of an angry feline. To add to the terrors of the defen¬ sive, the husband and father came up and liter¬ ally proceeded to spread himself. Wings and tail were spread to the ut¬ most, and every feather was ruffled to the fullest extent,— all in a manner calculated to strike ter¬ ror to the boldest heart. The bird-man managed to control his nerves long enough to note five eggs — but of what color de¬ ponent saith not — then hurriedly sought more congenial company. The notes of the Long-eared Owl are a fascinating study. The call note, oftenest visualized as the conventional “hoot,” is scarcely that, but is something softer, tenderer, and more subdued. After the courting season, the male employs this sound to comfort his mate upon the nest. Once we camped at the foot of a cottonwood tree which contained a nest of this bird, and as often as we waked in the still watches, we heard A NESTING SITE MAMA LONGEARS IS ON DECK Photo by the Author 1082 The Long-eared Owl i Taken i !' % ' f San Luis Obispo County WE VIEW WITH ALARM” Photo by the Author IO83 The Long-eared Owl that low crooning note, tender and mellow, and, above all, piano , as it was repeated simply and monotonously at intervals of four or five seconds all night long. The same note is used, also, to admonish the babes or to encourage them before the presence of that dread monster, man. Taken in San Luis Obispo County Photo by the Author THE SKIRT DANCE THE MENACE AT ITS UTMOST HEIGHT Then, besides the cat-fight noises, already mentioned, and which constitute a separate cataclysm of sound, there is the regular note of disapproval, a sort of groaning execration used chiefly by the male, Morach moraaaoow, werek werek wraaow, wreek wraaa — all very “flat” and very emphatic. A fourth note is so unusual, or at least so little understood, as to have escaped general comment.1 In May, 1907, when our party was camped on the Walla Walla River, in Washington, I first made its ac¬ quaintance. I was seated at the time in a willow tree, at a height of twelve or fifteen feet from the ground, beside a nest of young Long-eared Owls, one of a line of four nests which I had been watching for several 1 See the author’s article in point, Condor, Vol. XVI., March, 1914. 1084 The Long-eared Owl days. The youngsters were freezing faithfully, as usual, — all save the runt of the brood who still favored the cowering pose. The male parent had delivered himself of his quaint objurgations, and had retired from the scene in disgust. The female had caterwauled and cajoled and exploded and entreated by turns, all in vain. Matters seemed to have reached an impasse, and silence had fallen over the landscape. I had time to note the sage pinks, bright with morning dew, and the subtle, soothing, gray-greens of the sage itself, as it rose in billows over the slopes of the closely-investing hills. All of a sudden the Owl left her perch, flew to some distance and pounced upon the ground, where she could not well be seen through the intervening foliage. Upon the instant of the pounce, arose the piercing cries of a creature in distress, and I, supposing that the bird in anger had fallen upon a harmless Flicker Taken in Washington BABY MOUSERS Photo by the A ulhor which I knew dwelt in that neck of the woods, scrambled down instanter and hurried forward. The prompt binoculars revealed neither Flicker nor mouse. There was nothing whatever in the Owl’s talons. I he victor and the victim were one and the same, and I was the dupe. ^ el so 1085 The Long-eared Owl completely was the play carried out that the bird fluttered her wings and trod vigorously, with a rocking motion, as though sinking her claws deeply into a victim. I was astounded. Nor should I believe the evidence of my own eyes to this day, if I had not witnessed the same play repeatedly thereafter. The Owl thought she had me going, and I humored her to the point of absolute personal satisfaction. There was never a trace of fur or feathers or gore on the deserted stage. The distress cries, always convincing, were never overdone, but ceased, as they should, after the first onslaught. Yet if I did not yield a prompt obedience to the lure, the Owl looked about reproachfully and then redoubled her demon¬ strative wrestle with her alleged quarry. It was noteworthy in this connection that while other birds usually paid little heed to the notes of this Owl, how¬ ever terrifying in volume or tone, this distress cry commanded instant at¬ tention throughout the woods. The small birds began to chatter sym- pathetically, while Crows and Magpies ral¬ lied as though at the blast of a bugle. In fact, some nimble Mag¬ pie, as often as not, interrupted the play before it was half finished. This was the clew, if clew were needed, to the explanation. Your humble servant was a big Magpie, who at the sound of conflict might be expected to rush forward and snatch the prize from the victor’s grasp. Clever, wasn’t it? And, Taken near San Diego Photo by Dickey A MENACE IN PIN-FEATHERS IT IS TO laugh; but we may suppose his little heart is quaking 1086 The Long-eared Owl parenthetically, your Magpie is evidently ex¬ actly up to that game, even if the stupid man failed to play to his lead. The illusion of this decoy ruse (whose fur¬ ther psychology I leave who will to explicate) was most complete; and even inside knowledge of the facts could not lessen the wonder the Owl could so fectly reproduce how per- the shrieks of former victims. The Long-eared Owl enjoys a high repu¬ tation as a mouser, and has been passed with honor by the examining board of governmental experts. He does occasionally prey on birds, but there can be no question of his over-balancing services. Most especially this milder-toothed and very fascinating fowl deserves to be distinguished from his dread cousin, the Great Horned Bubo. ANOTHER ALARMED VIEWER Taken near Photo by D. San Diego R. Dickey No. 21 2 Short-eared Owl A. O. U. No. 367. Asio flammeus (Pontoppidan). Description. — Adults: Ear-tufts very short — scarcely noticeable; entire plumage, except facial disc, nearly uniform buff, ochraceous-buft or cream-buff, striped or mottled with dark brown, — heavily above and on breast, the stripes becoming more narrow on belly and disappearing altogether on legs and crissum; edge of wing white; the wing quills and tail-feathers broadly barred with brownish dusky; the facial disc gray centrally, with black around each eye and on the bridge. Bill and toe-nails dusky blue; eyes yellow; ear-opening enormous, but fully concealed. Immature: Dark brown with ochraceous tips above; brownish-black face, and unstriped underparts. Length 355.6-406.4 (14.00-16.00); wing 304.8-330.2 (12.00-13.00); tail 139.7-158.8 (5.50-6.25); bill from cere 17.2 (.68); tarsus 44.5 (1.75). Adult female larger than male. The preceding measurements include both sexes. IOS/ The Short-eared Oivl Recognition Marks. — Little hawk to crow size; general streaked appearance, dark brown on buff; inconspicuous ear-tufts; semi-terrestrial habits. Nesting. — Nest: On the ground or at the end of a short under-ground tunnel: a few sticks, grass, and feathers mark the spot, or else the bird lays on the bare earth. Eggs: 4-9; subspherical. Av. size, 39.9 x 31.2 (1.57 x 1.23). Season: April ; one brood. General Range. — Nearly cosmopolitan. In North America breeds irregularly south from northern Alaska and Greenland to California, Kansas, and Massachusetts; winters casually from the milder-climated of the northern states south to Guatemala. Resident in the Hawaiian Islands. Distribution in California. — Common migrant and fairly common winter resident in marshy or open situations, chiefly west of the Sierras. A rare breeder in the larger marshes — definitely recorded from Los Banos (Bishop) and New Hope, Fresno County (Tyler); inferentially from San Diego, San Pedro, and San Francisco Bay. Authorities. — Heermann (Otus brachyotus) , Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., ser. 2, ii. , 1853, p. 261 (Suisun, Calif.); Miller , Condor, vol. xii., 1910, p. 12 (fossil); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, p. 48 (San Joaquin Valley, breeding habits). IN SECTIONS where all three birds are common, a rough-and-ready division of territory has been agreed upon by the Long-eared, Short¬ eared, and Burrowing Owls — Owlia est omnis divisa in partes tres. To the Long-eared Owl has fallen the right to search groves, thickets and piney woods; to the Burrowing Owl belong all pastures and the open sage; whilst the Short-eared has chosen meadows, rye grass areas, swampy bottoms, and all expanses of rush and reed. This equitable arrangement regards, of course, only Owls, for the last-named species has always a keenly contesting rival of his claims in the person of the Marsh Hawk, or Harrier ( Circus c. hudsonius) . So sharp has the rivalry become, to interpret the situation fancifully, that the Owl, no longer content with a monopoly of the night rights, hunts over the contested preserve on all cloudy days, and on some bright ones as well. Indeed, he has almost forgotten the family tradition which enjoins upon all good Owls careful avoidance of sunlight, and seems not at all disconcerted thereby. Let no one suppose that because the bird under consideration has abbreviated ear-tufts, he is anywise “short” on hearing. On the con¬ trary, his ear-parts are enormously developed. Part the feathers on the side of the head, bringing the ear-coverts forward, and you will see it, an ear-opening some two inches long — as long, in fact, as the skull is high, and proportionately broad. It is more than a coincidence that these marsh prowlers, the Harrier and the Short-eared Owl, should be provided with such a remarkable auditory apparatus. When one considers the circumstances of their life, the reason for this common provision becomes very plain. In a thicket of reeds, especially if they be dry, one hears a great deal more than he 1088 The Short-eared Owl is able to see. Movement through grass or tules without noise is almost an impossibility, even for the tiniest bird or mouse. Hence, it becomes important to locate any creature in the tangle by hearing. Surely a Short-eared Owl could hear the footfall of a beetle at a hundred yards! Short-eared Owls are somewhat hawk-like in their appearance, whether quartering to and fro across the meadows, or watching from a convenient post. There is more flapping of wing than in the case of the Marsh Hawk, but the movement is absolutely noiseless, being hushed by the soft plumage of the axillaries and under wing-coverts. Now and then the bird, tiring of an exclusive swamp diet, goes poaching. Taking up a station upon the ground, it silently awaits the appearance of some timid gopher, which the Burrowing Owl has overlooked. In securing its smaller victims, the Owl does not pounce and tarry, but snatches in mid- flight, falcon-fashion, and retires to some favorite perch to eat. Its food consists largely of meadow mice, gophers, and other rodents, supplemented by grasshoppers, crickets and beetles, with now and then a small bird. So great are its services to the rancher, and especially to the hay-maker, that the owner may well count it a piece of good fortune when a pair or a colony of them take up quarters in the alfalfa field. Better run the mower carefully around every nest than to suffer the microtus mice to continue their work of devastation. These birds are largely resident in winter and migratory in suitable localities throughout the State. While not gregarious, after the fashion of Blackbirds, they are likely to pause during migrations in especially attractive places, irrespective of previous occupants, so that it is no rare sight to see a dozen or a score of them hawking about in a single swamp. Once in some stubble fields near Fresno, Mr. John G. Tyler encountered unusual numbers of certain associated Raptors, and esti¬ mated that there were not less than two hundred Short-eared Owls in sight at one time, all hunting busily. Some few remain to nest, at least as far south as Fresno; and there are reports, persistent but unconfirmed, of their nesting in Los Angeles County. They are usually seen in pairs at all seasons; and Bendire considers that they are mated for life. House¬ keeping is of the humblest, home being a mere shake-down of grass some¬ where upon the ground; and it is only when the nest is threatened that the birds muster “a weak whistling sort of note.” 1089 The Spotted Owl No. 213 Spotted Owl A. 0. U. No. 369. Strix occidentalis (Xantus). Synonyms. — Western Barred Owl. Xantus’s Owl. Hoot Owl. Wood Owl. Description. — Adults: Above warm brown, spotted with white and varied, slightly, by ochraceous, the spots rounded on head and back, broader on cervix and wings; the quills and tail irregularly spotted, or broken-barred, with dull ochraceous or pale brown, irregularly changing to white; sides of breast much like back, the remain¬ ing underparts dull ochraceous boldly spotted on middle of breast and on belly and sides with white, and irregularly marked, or herring-bone-barred, with warm brown; the flanks, legs (including tarsi), and wing-linings with very little white, mottled or faintly barred brownish and ochraceous instead; feathers about base of bill chiefly white with brownish black shafts; facial disc behind and above eye dark ochraceous, faintly concentric-barred with dark brown; the rim of disc darker brown (nearly bister) on inner aspect, finely mingled brown, ochraceous and white on outer aspect (thus curiously epitomizing the whole color scheme). Bill bluish dusky basally, changing to yellow on tip; claws light brown. Nestlings: Chiefly pale brownish buffy, broadly barred except on head and legs with light brown. Length of male about 466.09 (18.35); wing 320 (12.60) ; tail 215 (8.47) ; bill from cere 21.3 (.84) ; tarsus 59 (2.32). Females average larger; length up to 482.60 (19.00). Recognition Marks. — Crow size; rounded appearance of head; strikingly white- spotted; smaller and without “horns,” as distinguished from Pacific Horned Owl. Nesting. — Nest: Usually an old Raven’s nest, lodged in cranny of cliff; in default of such bird probably uses unlined cranny, much after the fashion of Bubo virginianus. Eggs: 2 or 3; subspherical, white. Av. size 47.75 x 40.6 (1.88 x 1.60) (Peyton). Season: March— April; one brood. General Range. — Western North America from northern Mexico and northern Lower California north along the coast to British Columbia, and in the mountains to southern Colorado. Distribution in California. — Not common resident in Upper Sonoran and Lower Transition zones west of the Sierran divide. Most common in San Diegan district. Authorities. — Baird ( Syrnium nebulosum ), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 921 (Ft. Tejon); Xantus, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. xi., 1859, pp. 190, 193 (orig. desc. ; type locality, Ft. Tejon); Swarth, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. vii., 1910, p. 3 (desc. juvenal; crit. ) ; ibid., Condor, vol. xvi., 1915, p. 15 (desc., meas., crit.); Dickey, Condor, vol. xvi., 1914, p. 193, figs, (desc., photos, etc.; Ventura Co.); Ober- holser, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. 49, 1915, p. 251 (syst. ; monogr.). EVEN the sight of a Spotted Owl is counted a bit of a rarity in these parts; and specimens taken are still dutifully reported in the col¬ umns of the “Condor,” or elsewhere. Yet when the great day comes, the bird of mystery is likely to prove as obliging as a well-bred hen— or shall we say as a sleepy rooster? It may be his favorite roost that we I0C)0 Who — Who are you? From a photograph by Donald R. Du ke) Taken in Ventura County The Spotted Oivl have blundered upon, all in a shady dell, unfre¬ quented of men. There is no need for anxiety. The bird is mildly curious himself, and not in the least alarmed. His aspect is anything but ferocious — benevolent, rather — and he looks for all the world like some patriarchal gnome disturbed at his slumbers, yet not resentful. We vote him handsome at the first breath, and admiration grows as we dwell upon the sleekness, the mellow rotundity, and the exquisite harmony of the figure, and especially of the costume before us. Spotting suggests the conspicuous, and this bird is spotted with white from head to foot, on a background the deepest of wood- browns; and yet the pattern blends in so perfectly, is so essential a part of the checkered sunlight falling upon branch and leaf beside him, that we say, “Why, of course. How could he be any different?” Whereas, an object merely brown or merely white would stand out here like a sore thumb, this camouflaged statuette almost disappears under the searching eye. We must circle about him to coax an inclination of the head, or a tell-tale movement of the foot. Now and again the benignant creature winks prodigiously, and the ladies with us shriek with laughter. Silly things! The bird is not winking at them. He was up late last night and the sun hurts his eyes, that’s all. Our knowledge of the Spotted Owl is chiefly derived from two accounts of their nesting which have appeared in the columns of the "( ondor. The first of these, by Mr. Lawrence Peyton,1 tells of the discovery, in 1908, of a nest situated in Castaic. Canyon, in a hole on the face of a perpendicular granite cliff, and at a point about fifteen feet up. Prom T aken in Los A ngeles County From a photograph, Copyright 1921, by Wright M. Pierce THE BIRD IS MILDLY CURIOUS HIMSELF Condor, Vol. XII., July, 1910. pp. 122, 123. /oq/ The Spotted Owl Taken in Los Angeles County From a photograph, Copyright 1921 , by Wright M. Pierce “WE VOTE HIM HANDSOME” grown young. The sit¬ uation was an old Raven’s nest, placed 65 feet up in a pothole, on a perpendicular cliff of conglomerate over 200 feet high. Fortunately the nesting-site was commanded by trees, and the old birds were very accommodating, as our accompanying illus¬ trations show. Indeed, the behavior of the old birds throughout the period of Mr. Dickey’s study was a compound of fearlessness, con¬ fidence, and placid 1 Condor, Vol. XVI., Sept., 1914. pp. 193-202. this nest a set of two eggs was secured April 1, 1909, and a set of three, with the parent birds, March 30, 1910. On the 15th of May, 1913, Mr. Donald R. Dickey1 with two assist¬ ants, working in the mountains of Ventura County, found a Spotted Owl’s nest which contained two well- 1092 The Spotted Owl indifference. The all-important business of an Owl’s daytime hours is slumber; and it was politely assumed that no gentleman would wish to do anything which would seriously interfere with that pleasant occu¬ pation. Will you look at the babies? Oh ! very well ; but only let us sleep. Safely ensconced in a neighboring fir tree Dickey makes the fol¬ lowing observations on the morning toilet of the mistress: “Contorting herself into every con¬ ceivable position, she shook her feathers into place and carefully preened away every frayed feather tip. There was something ludicrous in her every action. Even in the midst of her toilet, there were sudden periods when Morpheus seemed to overpower her, and she would doze off, only to awake with a start a few minutes later and continue the perform¬ ance. Her movements were much more gentle than those of the Horned Owls. The lack of their ear tufts and yellow irides also gave her a far more agreeable expres¬ sion, although I must confess that certain startled ex¬ pressions, — when one did succeed in startling her, — seemed unpleasantly lynx- ■ Taken in Ventura County Photo by Donald R. Dickey LIKE SOME PATRIARCHAL GNOME 1093 The Spotted Owl Taken in Ventura County like. W hen she moved along a limb her every movement suggested a parrot, really a striking resemblance.” Not satisfied, however, with these distant views, and finding their tackle too short to reach the nest from above, the scientists left a rope dangling and travelled over night to town for more apparatus. Re¬ turning, they found ser¬ ious changes: ‘‘Picture the three grim cliff scalers with their five hundred feet of rope rid¬ ing up and finding the owls not on the ledge at all, but come to meet them! It was really as bad as that, for there, in an insignificant oak across the ravine, sat the two youngsters with their parent. All three were well within the reach of any six-year-old boy. They were distant a hundred yards or so from the nest, and the hillside rose so steeply on that side that they were almost level with the nest although not over fifteen feet from the ground. That the young could have reached the spot unaided seems in¬ credible, for although the primaries were well grown out, they were, with that exception, in the complete down, and were still weak. The Photo by Dickey "THAT THE YOUNG COULD HAVE REACHED THE SPOT UNAIDED SEEMS INCREDIBLE” 1094 A Drowsy Sentry This adult Spotted Owl sleeps under fire From a photograph by Donald R. Dickey Taken in Ventura County The Spotted Owl alternative is that the old birds, continu¬ ing their distrust of the dangling rope, had deliberately moved them. Certain it is that they would not normally have left the nest perhaps for weeks.” One of these young birds was eventu¬ ally required for science ; but the other was dutifully and at much hazard returned to the nest, whereupon the parent alighted within eighteen inches of the suspended ornithologist, and neither offered nor feared molestation. The sci¬ entists had the satisfaction of seeing the old birds accept the situation and attend their re¬ maining offspring the following day in situ. On April 5th, 1914, I found a nest in western Kern County in a some¬ what similar situation, save that the country was entirely open, and the nesting cliff faced the treeless expanse of the great Central Valley. The young in this nest, an old Raven’s, upon a ledge thirty feet up, were more than half grown, so that the deposition of eggs must have occurred much earlier than in the instances enumerated. There is no clear-cut account of the notes, and especially of the mating “song,” of the Spotted Owl. Clay enjoyed a midnight serenade wherein the birds produced a “ghostly racket,” preceded by a long-drawn-out whining, which gradually increased to a grating sound. In this performance two birds, attracted, no doubt, by the light, ventured upon a limb within three feet of the inquisitive student. Peyton2 likens the call of the male to the distant baying of a hound, and Dickey3 confirms this estimate. The last-named authority gives the adult cadence as whoo, whoo, who, who, the first two syllables being noticeably longer than the others. The note of anxiety is given as a “low, musical indrawn whistled ‘Whee ee ," followed later by an "inde¬ scribable turkey-like chuckle.” A concert attended by the author, Taken in Ventura County Photo by Dickey WHO— WHO ARE YOU? Condor, Vol. XIII., p. 75- 2Loc. cit., p. 122. 3Loc. cit., p. 200. 1095 The Great Gray Old near Ukiah, and attributed by elimination to this bird, was characterized by considerable variety of inflection. The hoot notes were “narrower” and higher-pitched than those of a Horned Owl, and their utterance seemed to follow no definite order: IIoo ah hoo ah, and again, hod ah hoo hod ah. Little is known, either, of the food habits of this rare Owl. Dickey found rather scanty remains of mice and brush rats at the Owl’s nest, and saw feathers of Crested Jays which he attributed to a Strigine banquet. Curiously, however, two instances are on record where remains of Pygmy Owls, Glaucidium gnoma, have been found in the stomachs of recently killed Spotted Owls. Evidently there is scant courtesy among brigands. No. 214 Great Gray Owl A. O. U. No. 370. Scotiaptex nebulosa nebulosa (Forster). Description. — Adult: No ear-tuft's; general plumage mottled — dusky, grayish brown, and dull whitish — darker above, lighter below, where the dusky markings are indistinctly longitudinal on breast and belly, and transverse on flanks; the whitish impure and with a fulvous element on the margin of the facial disc, hind-neck, wings, tail, etc.; wing-quills and tail irregularly barred, dusky and mottled gray; facial disc about six inches across, light gray, with numerous dusky lines imperfectly concentric about each eye; the edge of the disc dark brown and fulvous, and with more white below; the eyes bordered by black on the inner margin; iris yellow. Bill pale yellow; claws bluish dusky; feet and toes heavily feathered. Length 635-762 (25.00-30.00); wing 406.4-457.2 (16.00-18.00) ; tail 279.4-317.5 (1 1. 00-12. 50) ; bill with cere 35.6 (1.40). Recognition Marks. — Size largest — Brant size; gray face; absence of ear-tufts will immediately distinguish it from the Horned Owls. Nesting. — Nest: Of sticks and moss, lined sparingly with down, placed high in trees, usually coniferous. Eggs: 2-4; white. Av. size, 54.9 x 43.4 (2.16 x 1 . 7 1 ) . Season: April-June, according to latitude; one brood. Range of Scotiaptex nebulosa. — Northern portion of Northern Hemisphere. Range of S’, n. nebulosa. — Boreal North America, breeding from central Keewatin and central Alberta north to the limit of trees, and rarely south along the Cascade- Sierra mountain chain to the Yosemite sector. South irregularly and rarely in winter into the northern or north-central states. Occurrence in California. — Rare winter visitor in northern portion of State. Has also bred recently in the central Sierras near Yosemite. Authorities. — Newberry ( Syrnium cinereum), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. vi., 1857, p. 77 (upper Sacramento Valley) ; Bedding, Land Birds Pac. Dist., 1890, p. 50 (Chico ) ; Grinnell, Condor, xvi., 1914, p. 94 (McCloud). GREAT Gray Ghost would be a more fitting title for this sepulchral bird, whose very existence is a mere tradition to most of us. Although 1096 The Great Gray Owl reckoned the giant of the owl kind, this bird is really not so “great” as he looks, for he is mostly feathers, and his body, when stripped, neither bulks so large nor weighs so much as that of the Great Horned Owl. His visage, also, lacks the fierce aspect which horns impart, and the bird himself is said to be milder mannered than are the Bubos. The forest areas of the “North Countree” are his proper domain, even up to the very limit of trees; and from thence he occasionally, but not commonly, flutters out upon the open marshes and tundras. Mr. Dale, while sta¬ tioned upon the Yukon, found the birds “remarkably stupid,” and de¬ clares that he has caught them by hand in the daytime. Certainly their flight is heavy and their motions far from graceful; but the few specimens which straggle down across the borders of our northern states in winter are never left long to their own devices. The most we know of them is that, when folded away in a cabinet drawer, they look like great gray babies, over-rash to have left the protection of their northern nursery. The claim of this rare northern species to a place in our pages rests upon a solitary example taken at Chico,1 supported by Newberry’s2 earlier assertion that he had proofs of its existence in the Sacramento Valley. But Dr. Cooper once took a specimen near the mouth of the Columbia River in June (1854), and there are even yet tantalizing rumors of its presence during the breeding season in the forests of Washington. There can be no harm, therefore, in letting the imagination run back to a day, not many milleniums distant, when this great gray ghost haunted our own grim forests of redwood and fir. The foregoing essaylet was penned in 1914, and is retained unchanged in order that it may afford a background for the subjoined account, which, through the distinguished courtesy of its authors, Dr. Joseph Grinnell and Dr. Tracy I. Storer, we are permitted to publish here, in spite of the fact that it is already “in press” as “The Yosemite Report,” prepared under the auspices of the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology, and issuing from the University of California Press. “The discovery of the Great Gray Owl in the Yosemite section was one of the notable events in our field experience. And what was most surprising was the fact that the bird was apparently quite at home, and nesting. No previous record of the breeding of this northern species of owl south of Canada is known to us, and its occurrence, even as a winter visitant within the northernmost of the United States, is not frequent. “On June 18, 1915, we were camped to the south of Yosemite Valley on the Glacier Point road within two miles south of Ostrander Rocks. A long trap-line beginning at camp led up the gentle slope towards the latter 1 Belding, Land Birds of the Pacific Coast District, 1890, p. 50. 2 Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., Vol. VI., pt. IV., p. 77 (1857). 1097 The Great Gray Owl landmark and through a fine forest of red fir. On the previous days’ attendance of this line, distant glimpses were had, morning or evening, of a large bird in silent flight among the trees. On the day of discovery, however, the diminutive kinglet pointed the way and really deserves all the credit. From a distance through the forest came the low but insistent wer-rup, wer-rup, wer-rup of a Ruby-crown, its unmistakable note of anxiety. This clue was traced by the expectant naturalist to a tall fir, out from near the summit of which there presently flew a great owl. The bird alighted at the top of a Jeffrey pine nearby, where it was shot, and (giving several deep-pitched whoo's ), fell to the ground wounded. At this, another owl appeared in flight from one fir top to another, and was also secured. “For purposes of photography the wounded bird was taken back to camp alive. Its huge facial discs, each centered by a great yellow-irised eye, its snapping bill, and its spasmodically clenching claws, all contrib¬ uted to profound respect on our part when handling it, and in securing pictures. “On succeeding days when a careful search of the vicinity was made, a large nest of sticks, one hundred feet above the ground on the close-set branches of a fir next to the trunk, was found, which, it is thought, be¬ longed to the owls. No close examination of it was made. On June 19 in the same stretch of woods the deep notes of an owl were heard three times repeated, but the bird could not be located. This time the kinglets failed us. “The two specimens secured proved to be male and female, probably a mated pair. As is usual with owls, the female was slightly larger, meas¬ uring: total length 595 millimeters (nearly two feet); expanse of wings 1370 millimeters (four and one-half feet). The male measured: length 580 millimeters; expanse 1350. In both birds the iris was bright straw yellow; bill greenish, becoming yellow towards tip; claws lead-color, darkening towards tips. The stomach of each bird was empty. “As an indubitable indication of her breeding during the current nesting season, the female was found to have a large bare tract on the lower surface of her body, including the belly and insides of the thighs, from which the larger feathers had all been removed. Associated with this condition, directly beneath the bare skin, were layers of fat, though the bird was otherwise lean. As is well known, many birds show, during the nesting season, the same or similar adaptations for the better perform¬ ance of the functions of incubation. The male Great Gray Owl lacked any such modifications, and we may infer that in this species the female alone performs the duty of incubation. The reproductive organs of both the birds indicated that the time of actual egg-laying was long past. It seems more than likely that a brood of young had been reared in the vinicity and, approaching maturity, had scattered out through the adjacent woods. 1098 The Saw-whet Owl “On July I, a Great Gray Owl was met with on the old Snow Flat trail, a mile or so north of Indian Rock. When first seen it was perched on a low limb of a lodge-pole pine not over ten feet above the ground. Two Juncos nearby were in spasms of excitement. The owl, taking- alarm, flew to a higher branch of a nearby tree, and thence made off into a dense stand of red firs. Its species was easily recognized by its great size, dark gray plumage, big round head without ears, and by the slow flapping of its broad rounded wings. No note was given by this bird. This was at 1 130 p. m. As far as our observations went, this species would seem to be more active by daylight than other owls, such as the Pacific Horned. “In Aspen Valley, on October 13, 1915, at 7:30 p. m., an owl note, supposedly of the Great Gray, was heard ; it proved impossible to verify the identity. Near Tamarack Flat, on May 24, 1919, similar notes were heard, but the birds were not seen. Notes of certain individual Band¬ tailed Pigeons proved so much like those of this owl as to cause confusion until the authors of the notes were actually seen to be pigeons.” No. 215 Saw- whet Owl A. 0. U. No. 372. Cryptoglaux acadica (Gmelin). Synonyms. — Acadian Owl. Kirtland’s Owl. Description. — Adult: Without ear-tufts; upperparts dull reddish brown (Prout's brown), unmarked on back, rump, and nape; sharply streaked on forehead, crown, and sides of neck with white; cervix with considerable irruption of basal white; outer scapu¬ lars and middle wing-coverts with large rounded spots of white; semicircular white spots on outer webs of outer primaries and large rounded white spots on inner webs of primaries and secondaries; tail white-tipped and crossed by three interrupted bars of white; wing-linings, axillars, sides (narrowly), flanks, legs, and feet, pale tawny; the remaining underparts white, heavily and broadly streaked with reddish brown; border of eye black, surrounding feathers white, shading into tawny and mingled tawny and brown on outer disc-feathers, rim chiefly mixed brown and white, but brown clear below and sharply set off by narrow white pectoral band. Bill and claws blackish. Immature birds are much darker (dark sepia to dark vandyke brown) on head, breast, and upperparts; white spotting much reduced, chiefly confined to forehead and quills; posterior half of underparts plain dark tawny; contrasts in black and white of facial disc more emphatic. Length 177.8-203.2 (7.00-8.00); wing 138 (5.43); tail 68 (2.68); bill from cere 12 (.47). Females average a little larger. Recognition Marks. — Towhee size, but appearing larger; larger than Pygmy Owls ( Glaucidium gnoma)\ body longer, not chunky; tail not conspicuous nor held at angle; without ear-tufts as compared with Otus asio group. Nesting. — Nest: In hollow trees, deserted woodpecker holes, etc. Eggs: 4 to 7; white, subspherical. Av. size 30.5 x 25.4 (1.20 x 1.00). Season: April-June> accord¬ ing to altitude; one brood. (Fyffe, May 17, 1913 — brood of five young — Ray). IO99 The Saw-whet Owl General Range. — Temperate North America. Breeds from the southern tier of British Provinces south to the southwestern states, and east of the Rocky Mountains to Nebraska, Ohio, and Maryland; winters irregularly southward; accidental (?) in Mexico and Guatemala. Occurrence in California.- — A rare breeder at least in the Transition and Canadian zones of the central Sierras, and probably south to the San Jacinto Mountains (Round Valley, Aug. 1 1 , 1898, Stephens). More widely and more frequently in evi¬ dence in winter, at which season its numbers are probably augmented from the North. Authorities. — Gambel ( Nyctale acadica ), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii., 1846, p. 47 (Monterey); Ray , Condor, vol. xvi., 1914, p. 65, figs. (Sierra Nevada, breeding); Pierce , Condor, vol. xxii., 1920, p. 40 (San Bernardino Mts., breeding). WE ARE NOT unlike song birds ourselves, in that the advent ot an Owl, of whatever species, will make a ripple of excitement in our day. The nether world has erupted. We have caught a glimpse of tasseled ear or cloven hoof and we are strangely wrought up thereby. The reaction of curiosity, which almost invariably follows, has spent itself in vain upon these people of the underworld, the night world, and what we do not know about some of the Owls is likely to pass as a legacy to our children's children. There have been those who knew a good deal about the Saw- whet Owl. The late Dr. Julian Ralph, of Utica, New York, was chief among them, for he assisted in the taking of five sets of their eggs in that region. On the other hand, there are men a-plenty, reputable ornitholo¬ gists among them, who never saw a Saw-whet Owl, and who do not know their notes. Something more than a dozen occurrences of this bird have been noted in California. Most of these have been in winter, but there are just enough summer records to make us suspect that the bird may be found breeding in forests, at suitable elevations, almost anywhere in the State. Authorities differ as to whether the Saw-whet Owl is migratory, and it is probably not so in the strict sense. It is, however, irregularly nomadic in winter and the number of local birds is likely to be increased by visitors from the north. Those who stay to brave the rigors of a northern climate are likely to suffer through failure of food supply, and many winter speci¬ mens have been taken by hand in an emaciated condition or picked up dead. Mr. W. E. Saunders thus found twenty-four dead birds along the northern shore of Lake Huron in 1906. It would be difficult to imagine any other species of Owl suffering in this fashion with Tree Sparrows and Juncoes about. But the fact is the Saw-whet appears to abstain alto¬ gether from bird-flesh, and to depend entirely upon mice or frogs and insects. It is, therefore, to be warmly commended and protected. The notes of the Saw-whet Owl have been from time immemorial compared to the “filing of a cross-cut saw.” The comparison must have I IOO The Screech Owls originated with some lonely woodchopper who was suffering with the toothache. Certainly it is a gross exaggeration, and unfair to the bird. During the brief courting season, when alone the notes are heard, the male is a most devoted serenader; and his song consists of breathless repetitions of a single syllable, whoop or kwook, vibrant and penetrating, but neither untender nor unpleasing. In the ardor of midnight under a full moon, this suitor whoops it up at the rate of about three whoops in two seconds, and this pace he maintains with the unfailing regularity of a clock. But to prevent his lady love from going to sleep, he changes the key occasion¬ ally. In quality this Nyctaline note is not unlike the more delicate utterance of the Pygmy Owl ( Glaucidium sp.), the sipoolk{ng) note. In¬ deed, I supposed these two notes proceeded from the same bird until Mr. Allan Brooks set me right. There can be no confusion, however, as be¬ tween the incessant cadences of the Saw-whet and the xylophone “song” of Glaucidium. No sweeter moonlight memory comes back to the writer than that of a night spent in camp among the silvered candelabra firs which border a certain prairie south of Tacoma. The moonlight was so palpable a joy that the sleeper must rouse ever and again to taste its fulness; and as often as one stirred on his bed of mingled fern and “sweet- in-death,” he heard the sweet, unfailing clamor of the Saw-whet, as he pressed his amorous suit. And ever and again, like a mocking chorus, came the tiny ghostly tinkling rondel of his Pygmy rival — Abiunt amores! No. 216 Screech Owl No. 216a McFarlane’s Screech Owl A. O. U. No. 373)1. Otus asio macfarlanei (Brewster). Description. — “Similar in coloration to 0. a. bendirei but much larger" (Ridg- way). “Larger size, greater extent of blackish markings on the contour feathers generally, and the browner tone of color dorsally, serve to distinguish it from any specimen of the more southern California races" (Grinned). Range of 0. a. macfarlanei. — The semi-arid Upper Sonoran zone of the "Colum¬ bian trough’’ from southern British Columbia to northeastern California. Occurrence in California. — Record based upon a single specimen, #16027, U. S. Nat. Mus., a male taken by John Feilner at Fort Crook in extreme northeastern Shasta County. Surmised, however, to be the resident bird of the Modoc region. Authorities.— Brewster (intergrade between bendirei and kennicotti) ; Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club., vol. vii., 1882, p. 32 (Ft. Crook; see Grinnell, postea ); Ridgway, Birds N. and M. Am., part vi., 19141 P- 697 (n- e- Calif.) ; Grinnell, Condor, vol. xxi., 1919, p. 173 (status in Calif.). IIOI Taken in Monterey County ORPHANS Photo by the A uthor The Screech Owls No. 216b California Coast Screech Owl A. O. U. No. 373c. Otus asio bendirei (Brewster). Synonym. — Bendire’s Screech Owl. Description. — Adult: With more or less conspicuous ear-tufts. General plumage finely mottled brownish gray, boldly striped with black; above, the tone produced by fine mixture of light ochraceous, pale grayish white, and dusky; black streaks centrally on feathers, heavily and finely on head, more sparingly on back and wings; outer webs of outer scapulars and greater coverts chiefly white, appearing as large rounded spots; quills coarsely barred, fulvous and dusky on outer webs, more obsoletely and sparingly on inner; underparts chiefly dull whitish, marked coarsely with central streaks of blackish, and finely and irregularly cross-barred with the same — the effect on the sides of the belly is as though the bird were covered with crawling insects having narrow black bodies and four or five pairs of black legs set at varying angles; middle of belly and lining of wings dingy white or palest tawny, nearly immacu¬ late; facial disc not sharply set off from surrounding plumage, although defined by rim of brownish, its feathers white with black shafts around base of bill, white with fine herring-bone pattern of blackish distally. Bill blackish paling on tip; claws horn-color, darkening on tips; iris yellow. Immature: Entire plumage, except quills and rectrices, finely barred dusky and whitish. Length of adult 203.2-247.6 (8.00-9.75); male: wing 161.9 (6.37); tail 81. 1 (3.19); bill from cere 14. 1 (.555); female: wing 166.2 (6.55); tail 84.1 (3.31); bill from cere 14.7 (.579). Remarks. — This form, unlike 0. a. typicus, 0. a. ncevius, and many other full species of the genus Otus, has no rufescent or “red” phase. Its color tone, in fact, is singularly uniform. But Mr. Grinnell has pointed out that there is a noticeable gradation in tone from the darker and warmer specimens of the northwestern part of the State through average specimens of the Bay region, to lighter and grayer birds from Walker’s Pass and the vicinity of Los Angeles; and he has given the name 0. a. quercinus to the last-mentioned. There is no doubt that the tendency exists, but it is occasionally contradicted by local examples, and I do not follow Mr. Grinned in according it a separate name. Recognition Marks. — Robin size, but appearing larger; ear-tufts — “horns” — with size, distinctive in range; darker and browner than 0. a. gilmani. Nesting. — Nest: An old woodpecker hole or natural cavity in stub or tree, usuady at moderate elevations. Sometimes lined indifferently with casts, trash, and feathers. Eggs: 2 to 4; subspherical, white. Av. size 35 x 30 (1.38 x 1.18). Season: March-May; one brood. Range of Otus asio. — Temperate North America, breeding from Sitka, Alaska, southeastern British Columbia, and northern border of the eastern states, south into northern Mexico. Range of 0. a. bendirei. — “California, except southeastern desert region (and, probably, northern coast district) and south central Oregon (Fort Klamath) (Ridgway). Distribution in California. — Resident in Upper Sonoran and 1 ransition zones west of the Sierran divide. Most common in San Diegan district and along the inner coast ranges south of San Francisco Bay. Also common along the timbered foothills of the western Sierras north to Shasta. It is purely a matter of opinion whether specimens from Eureka should be referred to bendirei or to brewsteri of the Oregon Coast. IIO3 Taken in Monterey County Photo by the Author THE CHAMPION Authorities. — Lawrence ( Ephialtes choliba), Ann. Lyc. Nat. Hist. N. Y., vol. vi., 1853, p. 4 (Sacramento) ; Brewster, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, vol. vi i . , 1882, p. 31 (orig. desc. ; type locality, Nicasio) ; Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. i., 1892, p. 361; Emerson, Condor, vol. viii., 1906, p. 29 (red phase); Swarth, Condor, vol. xvii., 1915, p. 167 (Eureka; crit.), Bonnot, Condor, vol. xxiv., pp. 30, 31 (voice.) No. 216c Sahuaro Screech Owl A. O. U. No. 373L Otus asio gilmani Swarth. Synonyms. — Arizona Screech Owl. Formerly called Mexican Screech Owl. Description. — Adult: Somewhat similar to 0. a. bendirei, but much paler and grayer, — ashy gray tone sustained nearly throughout; under plumage heavily and finely mottled gray (with customary black streaks); the upper plumage slightly rufes- cent; the disc-feathers of throat somewhat modified, those of the middle broadly black-ribbed, those of the side with rib suppressed distally, and sharply cross-barred instead. Length of adults: 190.5-228.6 (7.50-9.00); male: wing 152.6 (6.01); tail 76.5 (3.01); bill from cere 12.9 (.51); female: wing 156.5 (6.16); tail 75.1 (2.96); bill 13.5 (-53). Remarks. — This form represents the extreme in another line of divergence from 0. a. ncevius, viz., the maxwellice-aikeni-gilmani group. There is a hiatus between its range and that of bendirei (or quercinus Grinned), and there is no suspicion of inter¬ grading between them. This also is known as a monochromatic form, i. e., it has no recognized rufescent phase; but a specimen taken by Dr. Cooper at Ft. Mohave on the Colorado River in 1861 (Mus. Vert. Zool. No. 4395) is decidedly warm in tone throughout, possibly the effect of fading. IIO4 The Screech Owls Recognition Marks. — As in preceding — lighter and grayer. Range of 0. a. gilmani. — Southwestern California, southern Arizona, and southwestern New Mexico (presumably also northern Sonora). Occurrence in California.— Resident in the valley of the lower Colorado River and probably also in the Imperial Valley. Authorities— H. Brown ( Megascops asio cmeraceus), Condor, vol. vi„ 1904. p. 46 (Colo. Valley, on Calif, side) ; Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p. 128 (Colo. Valley) ; Gilman, Condor, vol. xi., 1909, p. 147 (Ariz. ; desc. nests; habits, etc.) ; Swartk, Condor, vol. xviii., 1916, p. 163 (crit., desc., meas.). TO ONE whose early studies have been conducted in the forests and deciduous groves of the East it is a disappointment to learn that the birds of California will not respond to the Screech Owl cry. Why, go out in any grove from Iowa to Massachusetts, at any time of year, at any hour of daylight, save the siesta interval from 10 a. m. to 2 p. m., secrete yourself in a thicket and simulate the mournful, rolling call of the little Screech Owl, and you will at once be con¬ scious of an apprehensive hush in the neighboring trees and bushes. Then follows a murmur of inquiry; Chickadees, Titmice, Nuthatches, Warb¬ lers, Vireos, and Jays set out to discover the whereabouts of this arch-enemy who has been indiscreet enough to proclaim his presence during the hours of his helplessness. If a veritable Owl is found, as not infrequently happens, every bird’s bill is against him, and there is none so poor to do him reverence — by daylight. This is not alone because he appears stupid and sleepy, or because he regards his tormentors with the fixed gravity of a round-eyed gaze, varied only by “that forlorn, almost despairing wink” peculiar to it, but because they have an ancient and well-grounded grudge against this bird of silent wing and cruel claw. All but the Blue Jay ( Cyanocitta cristata) — he is a villain himself, and he leads the persecution of Owls from a sheer love of mischief. Whenever a Blue Jay’s voice is lifted high, and there is an undercurrent of bird-babble beneath it, it is time for the bird-man to slip rapidly forward from tree to tree and investigate. But there is none of that here, nor indeed anywhere in the West, so far as I have been able to discover. Why, we do not exactly know; but it may Taken in Monterey County Photo by the Author ALL ABOARD! 1 1 os The Screech Owls not be amiss to speculate. In the first place, the bird is less tuneful — or less noisy — and so less in evidence in the West. The notes, too, are different, and, possibly, less terrifying, though terror with birds must be more a matter of remembered experience than of tone qual¬ ity and suggestion in itself. Instead of that “tremulous quaver, exquisitely mournful and sweet,” but also very gruesome, as it proceeds from the throat of a famished, bird-hunting Screech Ow in zero weather, we have in the California bird duller tones and a song phrase made up in its early numbers of separate and easily distinguishable notes. But also, chiefly, I think, the Screech Owls of the Pacific Coast, hav¬ ing in win¬ ter a more abundant and con¬ stant supply of their favorite food, — mice, beetles, frogs, and even, occasionally, fish- are not often driven to attack other birds. Tyler records an instance where a Screech Owl was chased by Mockingbirds; and, in general, it may be said that almost any bird will join in the pursuit of any night-prowling Owl. Even that most impeccable mouser, the Barn Owl, is sometimes set upon, in sport. But the key to the woods has been handed over to the Pygmy Owl, and him the small birds fear as they do not Otus asio hendirei. It is only at nesting time that we can acquire anything more than the merest scrap of information about our Screech Owls. Early in April, or, rarely, in later March, some natural cavity in a tree, whether live oak, cottonwood, or sycamore, or else some deserted Woodpecker’s nest, is selected for a home. Instances are found where the birds used old rat nests, and they are suspected of occupying old Magpie nests as well. No lining material is required, and the three or four rounded white eggs Taken in San Diego Photo by D. R. Dickey & L. Huey SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA SCREECH OWL 1106 mi The Screech Owls are laid upon the rotten wood or chippings left by the last occupant. The female is a very close sitter, requiring to be lifted from the eggs, if incubation has progressed ; while the male, when not actually sharing the nesting cavity with his mate, is usually to be found in some nearby cranny. Mr. Benjamin F. Gault tells an amusing instance* 1 of the Otine reluctance at leaving a happy home. The narrator had found in an old Flicker hole near Riverside, Illinois, a Screech Owl with four young. “The mother bird appeared dazed when brought to the light, and singu¬ larly enough in taking her from the nest the entire brood was also re¬ moved at the same time, she having instinctively grasped one of the young, that one another and so on until they all became attached, and they certainly presented a ludicrous sight as they came dangling out of the hole, each retaining a firm hold of the other; but the youngsters finally dropped off and tumbled to the ground.” Incubation lasts about three weeks, and the young are blind when hatched. They are covered with a thick white down, like chick¬ ens; and like chickens, they will peep lustily if disturbed. Of course they are voracious eaters and so importunate in their demands, that the hard-working parents are required to lay up a ■ m Taken in Oregon Photo by A. W. Anthony MACFARLANE SCREECH OWL 1 Quoted by Bendire, Life His¬ tories, Vol. I., p, 362. IIO/ The Screech Owls surplusage of food during the night which they dole out at intervals through the day. Although they grow very fast it is not until fifteen days after hatching, according to Otto Emerson, who studied a family closely at Haywards,1 that they get their eyes fully open. The Owls remain in a family group for some weeks after the young are able to leave the nest, and one occasionally comes across them standing as motionless as stat¬ ues on some horizontal limb at a low level in the woods. When the young are beginning to make in¬ quiries for themselves, or when family cares are quite done, the old birds, who, since the courting days have maintained a discreet silence, become tuneful — or noisy, according to the receptivity of the listener. It is altogether probable that these Owls remain mated for life. Anyhow, the birds are discovered in pairs during the winter. Once in the “dead” of winter (how foolish that easternism sounds in Cali¬ fornia!), January 21, 1911, I was exploring the bottoms of the San Gabriel River in company with Mr. A. B. Howell, when we came to a cottonwood stub about 15 feet high which showed a ragged hole where some oologist had once dug out a Flicker. Arrived at the top, I split the stump down gently and disclosed a Screech Owl crouching on the bottom. A fragment fell upon him, but he made no moan. Then I rent oft the smaller half of the broken tree, capturing the bird without difficulty, and exposing as I did so another cavity below the one in which the Owl sat, and separated from it only by the thinnest septum of rotten wood. The floor of the upper cavity was covered to a depth of three inches with a loose mass of animal debris, decomposed casts, feathers, the tests of ants, etc. ; and when the trunk Photo by A. W. Anthony CAUGHT RED-HANDED THE BIRD IS A MACFARLANE SCREECH OWL PHOTOGRAPHED IN THE BLUE MOUNTAINS OF OREGON 1 Bendire, op. cit. p. 362. 1108 The Flammulated Screech Owl was rent, quantities of this material fell down into the lower cavity. I mention this explicitly because it occurred to me, in descending, to thrust an exploratory hand into the accumulation of the lower cavity; and here, uncomplainingly buried, 1 dug up another Owl , the female. It was a shame to kill them, but Howell wanted the skins and each bird passed by the airless route to the land of Not, without a struggle, mild and innocent. As we handled the carcasses of the dead birds, curious big flat dies came forth, black fellows which had evidently been living a parasitic life upon these patient fowls. No. 217 Flammulated Screech Owl A. O. U. No. 374. Otus flammeolus (Kaup). Synonyms. — Dwarf Screech Owl. Least Screech Owl. Description. — Adult: (Average plumage based on four nearly uniform California (2) and Arizona (2) specimens). Plumicorns (ear-tufts) very short — scarcely notice¬ able. General tone of upperparts weathered wood-brown, produced by finely mottled whitish and dusky; facial disc not prominent, its included feathers chiefly dusky-and- white-barred ; tawny washes or stains about eyes, base of bill, crown centrally, rim of facial disc (strongly, split on nape by grayish crescent), and vague semicircular broad band across upper back and anterior portion of wing, including the under surface and continued on sides of breast as prominent edging of larger stripes; bordering areas of head, especially the included band of cervix and underparts, lighter — whitish or pale ashy as to ground; the underparts heavily marked with “crawling insect" stripes and bars, after the fashion of 0. asio, the more prominent figures heavily margined with deep tawny; a large '^-shaped design of white and tawny on back, formed by outer webs of outer scapulars; and upperparts further varied by skeletonized central stripes of blackish; quills strongly indented with white and ochraceous on outer webs, obsoletely ochraceous-barred on inner. Bill and feet dark; iris brown (unique among owls). Adult , gray phase: With tawny (as in preceding description) more or less reduced; in extreme examples entirely wanting, save on scapulars. Adult , red phase: W ith increase of tawny throughout; extreme examples are cinnamon-brown above and strongly tinged with cinnamon-rufous on face and breast. As the red increases, the black tends to reduction or diffusion, being (according to Ridgway) sometimes entirely wanting on crown. Nestlings: Notably dark-colored, finely barred dusky and grayish white throughout, but especially on head and underparts; pattern of wings as in adult; and stains of ochraceous about bill, eyes, sides of neck, etc. Length of adults: 152.4-177.8 (6.00-7.00); wing 133 (5.24); tail 60 (2.36); bill from cere 9.5 (.37)- Females a trifle larger. Recognition Marks. — Sparrow size, but appearing larger; a tiny Screech Owl to appearance, but “horns” scarcely visible; '"-shaped rufous bars on back; decidedly larger than Elf Owl 1109 The Flammulated Screech Owl Nesting. — Nest: An old nesting hole of woodpecker, or natural cavity in tree. Eggs: 2 or 3; white, subspherical. Av. of 3 eggs from Arizona (Huachuea Mts. — Willard): 30.48 x 24.64 (1.20 x .97): index 81. Av. of 2 eggs from Utah (Wahsatch Mts.- — Treganza): 27.1 x 21.08 (1.065 x -83); index 78. Season: About June 1st. General Range. — Mountains of western North America from southern British Columbia to Guatemala. Occurrence in California. — A little-known resident, reported from the moun¬ tains of Shasta County (Fort Crook), south, but chiefly in the San Bernardino Moun¬ tains. Authorities. — Cooper (Scops flammeola), Orn. Calif., 1870, p. 422 (Ft. Crook); Belding, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. v., 1883, p. 549 (Big Trees) ; Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zook, vol. v., 1908, p. 59 (San Bernardino Mts.). IF A MARTIAN in black livery were to sidle up on the dark side of our planet, all on a moonless night, to spy upon us, he could scarcely keep his business so well concealed as has this ghoulish avian mystery, the Flammulated Owl. Yet the Owl is no interloper, but a native son ; for his race has probably told off more myriad moons in California than Piute or Digger or Hueneme. The first example of this species recognized in the United States was taken by Lieut. Feilner, a representative of the Smith¬ sonian Institute, at Fort Crook, in this State, in i860. So far as Cali¬ fornia is concerned, the record remained unique for a quarter of a century, when, in 1885, Mr. Frank Stephens took a second specimen in the foothills of the San Bernardino range. Since that date five or six occurrences have been recorded,- — two in the central and northern Sierras, and the remain¬ ing three or four in the San Bernardinos. On the 4th of June, 1894, Mr. M. French Gilman took a set of two eggs of this kind, at an elevation of 7500 feet, on the slopes of San Gorgonio Peak; and it is not improbable that the Owl is of regular occurrence throughout the higher ranges of California. The Flammulated Owl has been found nesting in the mountains of Arizona and Colorado, and a dozen sets or such a matter taken ; but the parent birds have almost invariably been killed at sight after the kindly fashion of our cult, and little is known of the life history or psychology of this little, silent terror of the night. The eggs, three or four in num¬ ber, are deposited in old Woodpecker holes, usually at moderate heights; and the female is such a close sitter that she requires to be lifted from the nest. It was Mr. Frank C. Willard, that veteran oologist and astute student of bird ways, who first called our attention to a peculiarity of this owl which places it in a class by itself. So far as known, the irides of all other Owls are yellow, presumably because this color best promotes the light-gathering faculty, which is furthered by the facial disk and other 1 1 IO The Flammulated Screech Owl .... "* FLAMMULATED SCREECH OWL devices. But the iris of the Flammulated Owl is of a dark chocolate brown, imparting to the bird a curious, mild expression entirely at variance with Otian traditions. Whether this color operates as a handicap in hunt¬ ing, we cannot say; but it does increase our desire to know more about this avian sphinx. //// The Horned Owls Of the most recent recorded occurrence, Grinnell says:1 “On the evening of July 15, 1905, at Bluff Lake, 1 obtained an adult male of this rare species. During the preceding two evenings we had repeatedly heard a peculiar note, different from that of any other owl we had ever heard. It consisted of a single mellow ‘whoot,’ repeated at regular inter¬ vals, something like the call note of the Phainopepla in this respect. These notes began to be heard at early dusk, by seven o’clock; but on account of their ventriloquial quality, gave little clue as to distance. Although far reaching, the notes proved to have been uttered close at hand.” No. 218 Horned Owl No. 218a California Horned Owl A. O. U. No. 375d. Bubo virginianus pacificus Cassin. Synonyms. — Pacific Horned Owl. Hoot Owl, par excellence. Cat Owl. Description. — Adult: Ear-tufts conspicuous, two inches or more in length, black, bordered with ochraceous; entire upperparts dusky or blackish, finely barred and mottled with prevailing whitish and ochraceous, the latter color predominant on each feather basally; wing-quills and tail faintly broad-barred; facial disc ochraceous, sharply bordered by blackish laterally, feathers whitish and black-tipped centrally, borders before and over eye blackish; a broad white space on chest; feathers of remaining underparts tawny or ochraceous tawny at base, changing to white on terminal portions (in very variable amount), finely and heavily barred with dusky brown; the sides of breast spotted with the same color; the toes pale tawny, nearly immaculate; iris bright yellow. Bill and toe-nails bluish black. Young: Above and below ochraceous, barred with dusky. Chicks are covered with white down. Measurements, av. of 4 males: Length (skins): 514.35 (20.25); wing 342 (13.47); tail 210 (8.27); bill from cere 26.1 (1.03). Av. of 6 females: Length 557.53 (21.95); wing 366 (14.41); tail 236 (9.29); bill from cere 28.1 (1.11). Remarks. — This is the prevailing form throughout California, save in the humid coastal belt and the arid southeast. Ridgway, following Oberholser, has recognized a southern coastal form, B. v. icelus, from the “coast of California from about Latitude 35 north, to the San Francisco Bay district,” but the distinction is clearly based on insufficient material. The influence of saturatus, that is, the darkening tendency, is felt all the way down the coast, but specimens from the southern humid coast belt can be duplicated by specimens from the San Bernardinos, and there is no constant difference, as alleged. Recognition Marks. — Largest except for the two rare species, Scotiaptex n. nebulosa and Nyctea nyctea. “Horns” and size distinctive. Much darker than B. v. pallescens ; lighter than B. v. saturatus. 1 The Biota of the San Bernardino Mountains, p. 59. 1 1 12 The Horned Owls Nesting.— Nest: A cranny or inaccessible ledge of cliff, or a deserted nest of Swainson Hawk, Western Redtail, Yellow-billed Magpie, or Western Crow; indifferently lined, or not, with a few bark-strips, grass-tufts, and feathers. Rarely in hollow trees. Eggs: 2 or 3, rarely 4; rounded ovate, white, lusterless, granular. Av. of 36 specimens from San Luis Obispo County in the M. C. O. colls. : 53.3 x 43.9 (2.10 x 1.73) ; index 82. Season: February-April; one brood. Range of Bubo virginianus. — The Americas, except Amazonia. Range of B. v. pacificus (chiefly contained within California). — California, except the southeastern portion, the humid coastal strip (narrowly) north of Latitude 35, and (possibly) the extreme northeastern portion, north into south-central Oregon, east to San Francisco Mountains, Arizona, south to northern Lower California. Authorities. — Gambel (Bubo virginianus), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii., 1846, p. 46 (Calif.); Stone, Auk, vol. xiii. , 1896, p. 156 (s. Calif.; diagnosis); Oberholser, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. xxvii., 1904, p. 183 (monogr.); Miller, Condor, vol. xii. , 1910, p. 13 (fossil); J.B. Dixon, Condor, vol. xvi., 1914, p. 47, figs, (life hist.; Escondido). No. 218b Desert Horned Owl A. O. U. No. 375a. Bubo virginianus pallescens Stone. Synonyms.— Western Horned Owl. Pallid Horned Owl. Description. — Adult: Similar to B. v. pacificus, but much paler, the ochraceous tawny element largely replaced by white, sometimes nearly wanting below, the barring of underparts usually narrower and finer. Adult male: wing 341 (13.43); tail 215.9 (8.50); bill from cere 27.3 (1.07). Adult female: wing 362.8 (14.28); tail 222 (8.74); bill from cere 29 (1.14). Remarks. — This is a clearly marked bleached form, well established in the arid Southwest. Although the range of B. v. pacificus is said to overlap that of palles¬ cens (in the San Francisco Mts.), there is very little evidence of gradation within the limits of California. Recognition Marks. — As in preceding form; much lighter. Range of B. v. pallescens. — The southwestern United States from central Texas west to southeastern California and northwestern Lower California, south into northern Mexico. Distribution in California. — Resident along the Colorado River, in the Im¬ perial Valley, and in wooded portions of the Colorado and Mohave Deserts. To a limited degree also in the desert ranges. Authorities. — Baird (Bubo virginianus ), Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 49, part (Colo. River, Calif.); Oberholser, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. xxvii., 1904, p. 182 (monogr.) ; J. Mailliard and J. Grinnell, Condor, vol. vii. , 1905, p. 74 (Victorville; food) ; Grinnell, Lfniv. Calif. Pub. Zook, vol. xii., 1914, p. 129 (Colo. Valley). No. 218c Western Horned Owl A. O. U. No. 375a, part. Bubo virginianus occidentalis Stone. Description. — Adult: Similar to-B. v. pallescens, but larger and averaging darker in coloration. Adult male: wing 349.6 (13.76); tail 212.8 (8.38); bill from cere 27.1 (1.07). Female: wing 376 (14.80); tail 230.5 (9.07); bill 30.2 (1.19). Range of B. v. occidentalis. — Central western United States from Kansas and Minnesota west to northwestern California and north to central Alberta. III3 The Horned Owls Occurrence in California. — Recorded sparingly from the northeastern plateau district, probably the resident form. Authorities. — Swarth, Condor, vol.xxiii., 1921, p. 136 (Shumway, Lassen Co.); Oberholser, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. xxvii., 1904, p. 191 (monogr.). No. 2l8d Dusky Horned Owl A. 0. U. No. 375c. Bubo virginianus saturatus Ridgway. Description. — Adult: Similar to B. v. pacijicus, but larger and darker; the dusky of upper plumage more extensive, the tawny somewhat reduced; underparts much darker, the ground-color (except area of breast) often entirely tawny, the dusky markings heavier, sometimes nearly confluent; the toes usually mottled, sometimes prevailingly dusky. Adult male: length 542.3 (21.35); wing 348.3 (13.71); tail 212.3 (8.36); bill 28.9 (1.14). Adult female: length 593.1 (23.35); wing 374-7 C4-75); tail 227.2 (8.95); bill from cere 30 (1.18). Remarks. — A strongly marked form from the northern coast belt whose influence is felt as far south as Monterey, prevailingly to San Francisco Bay region. A typical example of the darkening, “saturating,” influence of humidity. Recognition Marks. — As in B. v. pacificus; larger, darker. Range of B. v. saturatus. — Pacific Coast district from southern Alaska to south central California. Distribution in California. — Resident in the humid coastal strip, broadly defined at the north and including the San Franciscan embayment, narrowly defined in the southern reaches to about the southern border of San Luis Obispo County. “Probably of casual occurrence in the central Sierras” (Grinnell). Authorities. — Vigors ( Bubo virginianus), Zool. Voy. “Blossom,” 1839, p. 15 (San Francisco ); Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 1 1 , 1915, p. 73 (status in Calif.). BY A FANTASTIC quirk of history the grizzly bear ( Ursus hor- ribilis ) has become the emblem of California. In justification of this early whim, we can only urge that the bear is enthusiastic in welcome and gets an everlasting grip upon the stranger who ventures within her borders. In presenting Bubo horribilis, the grizzly bear of the bird world, we shall not be able to offer anything beyond the above named characteristics in his favor. He loves the darkness because his deeds are evil; and after the protecting sun has set, woe betide the mole or rabbit, Partridge, Jay, or Chanticleer, who dares to stir where this monster is a-wing. When cap¬ tured in a trap, as he sometimes is by aggrieved poultry fanciers, the ruffling of the feathers, the alternate hissing and fierce snapping of the mandibles, and the greenish yellow light which comes flashing from the great saucer eyes, all give fair warning of what one may expect from the free foot once it gets a chance to close upon a victim. Horned Owls in a state of nature do not pose for inspection unless forcibly detained. A steel trap is, of course, the surest method of deten¬ tion, but a mob of Blue-fronted Jays ranks a close second. Nothing can exceed the joy of the Jay upon the discovery of one of these grim death’s II 14. The Horned Owls Taken in Washington Photo by L. D. Lindsley DUSKY HORNED OWL IN TRAP heads secreted in the depths of a fir tree. Here is a day’s sport cut out for one whose “sportin’ blood’’ runs high on week-days and turns feverish on owl days. The whole Jay countryside is aroused. To the number of a score they gather about the victim and throw all his sins up to him in a chorus of Billingsgate. The Owl beams hate at them, snaps his mandibles fiercely, and makes now and then an ineffectual dab at his pursuers, which only seems to arouse fresh shrieks of laughter. When the din becomes unbearable, he may dash from cover, but the Jays surround him at the IIJ5 The Ho r tied Owls next resting place, screaming sarcastic apologies for their past rudeness, and promising redoubled misbehavior. One wonders that they dare do it, for the sullen object of mirth will assuredly wreak vengeance on them when his turn comes in the first watch of the night. It is difficult to exaggerate the rapacity of these freebooters. An observer in New York State, speaking, of course, of the eastern form, “states that in a nest he examined, containing two young Owls, he found the following animals: a mouse, a young muskrat, two eels, four bullheads, a Woodcock, four Ruffed Grouse, one rabbit, and eleven rats. The food taken out of the nest weighed almost eighteen pounds. A curious fact connected with these cap¬ tives was that the heads were eaten off, the bodies being untouched.’’1 The brain of the victim iscounted the tid-bit,and in seasons of plenty the bird will have nothing else. Thus, while the Owl probably will not kill wantonly, it is notor¬ iously wasteful, and the coarser portions of these choice viands of which we read, these bloody offerings to the infant Dinops, are removed pe¬ riodically from the nest. While a certain amount of “good” is un¬ deniably accomplished by the Horned Owl in preying upon rats and gophers, it is more than offset by the relentless attacks upon birds, espe¬ cially upon meadowlarks, quails, and grouse, and Taken in Los Angeles County Photo by W. M. Pierce EGGS OF PACIFIC HORNED OWL ON LEDGE OF CLIFF / / 16 1 Bendire, Life Histories, N. A Birds, Vol. I., p. 382. The Horned Owls by the frequent, al¬ though not regular, dep¬ redations upon poultry. Other predatory species are not exempt, either. Crows and Jays are fre¬ quent victims, and Screech Owl appears to be a regular item on the Bubonine bill of fare. Mr. Bowles relates, also, that during the fall and winter months on cer¬ tain shooting preserves these birds make a thor¬ ough search every night for wounded ducks. So successful are they that out of hundreds that are wounded and lost by sportsmen, it is unusual to find one; while well picked carcasses are common. A government expert who has given great attention to the food of hawks and owls summarizes thus:1 “The Great Horned Owl does a vast amount of good and if farmers would shut up their chickens at night instead of allowing them to roost in trees and other exposed places, the principal damage done by this bird would be prevented.” From this hopeful conclusion I find myself obliged to dissent, for I have yet to find the nest of your Horned Owls which does not bear testimony to persistent and outrageous depredations upon the bird world. Horned Owls, too, are of commoner occurrence than is sometimes realized. Although normally bold and aggressive, the birds soon learn caution, and because their local attachments are very strong, they will forego the pleasure of song rather than desert the ancestral haunts. Where danger has not taught discretion, they are quite free with their nocturnal concerts; but they are known to nest in places where a single full-voiced hoot would draw the fire of the countryside. The mating song (save the mark!) is a succession of resonant bellowings in a single key Whoo, whoo, koo-hoo, who — quite variable as to length and form. Besides this the bird occasionally indulges in sepulchral laughter, hoo hoo hoo hoo LSG . w* M Taken near San Diego Pholo by L. Huey and D. R. Dickey PACIFIC HORNED OWL ON NEST 1 U. S. Dept, of Ag. Biol. Surv. Circular No. 61, p. 16. uiy mm The Horned Owls hoo hoo hoo, which arouses anything but mirthful feelings in the listener. But these modest notes by no means exhaust the Horned Owl’s repertory. As a young man, in Tacoma, the writer once lived in a house which immediately adjoined a large wooden church. My chamber window looked upon a flat kitchen roof, through which projected a brick chimney some ten feet away. At three o’clock one morning a horrible nightmare gave way to a still more horrible waking. Murder most foul was being committed on the roof just outside the open window, and the shrieks of the victims (at least seven of them!) were drowned by the imprecations of the attacking party — fire-eating pirates to the number of a dozen. Pande¬ monium reigned and my bones were liquid with fright — when suddenly the tumult ceased ; nor could I imagine through a whole sick day what had been the occasion of the terrifying visitation. But two weeks later the conflict was renewed, — at a merciful distance this time. Peering out into the moonlight I beheld one of these Owls perched upon the chimney of the church hard by, gibbering and shrieking like one possessed. Cat-calls, groans, and demoniacal laughter were varied by wails and screeches, as of souls in torment — an occasion most memorable. The previous serenade had evidently been rendered from the kitchen chimney, — and 1 pray never to hear its equal. The early nesting of the Horned Owl is the marvel of those eastern states whose Februaries are given over to blizzards instead of roses. Fresh eggs have been taken in early February, with zero temperatures prevail¬ ing, from nests wherein all but the sitting bird was encrusted with snow. Here in California, where temperature cuts so little figure in nesting cal¬ culations, the Horned Owls hold pretty much to the ancient habit. February and March are the usual nesting months, and January 29th (191 1) at Escondido is the earliest date I can discover. These Owls never build nests of their own, in the strict sense, but either occupy some de¬ serted nest of Redtail, Magpie, or Crow, or else make shift with the natural opening of some ledge or cliff cranny or steep hillside. Shelter is a minor consideration, since the bird fears neither storm nor prowling coyote; but some degree of elevation, a commanding lookout, is the prime requisite. The nesting hollow, whether of sticks or of earth, is lined casually with feathers from the bird’s breast. And in this depression two, sometimes three, or, very rarely, four, white eggs are laid. These are subspherical in shape; in size about that of hens’ eggs, notably small for the bulk of the bird; and they require the services of the mother for something over four weeks. During the period of incubation the male is in close attendance, feeding his mate faithfully upon the nest and keeping a sharp lookout for intruders. When disturbed, the owners pose in various attitudes, grotesque 1 1 18 The Snowy Owl or frightful, snapping their mandibles, and groaning now and then in a most dismal fashion. If the young are well grown, it is not at all safe to venture near, for an irate Horned Owl is incredibly swift in attack, and a raking shot from those powerful talons will leave at best a very sore head. One ardent investigator,1 presuming too much upon an acquaintance of two years’ standing, attempted to remove the owlets from a nest for photographic purposes. The blood flowing from three scalp wounds was soon staunched and he recovered his cap from a tree top a hundred yards away, “a punctured souvenir of our last intimate contact with the local Horned Owls.” No. 219 Snowy Owl A. O. U. No. 376. Nyctea nyctea (Linnaeus). Description. — Adult male: Without plumicorns; entire plumage pure white, sometimes almost unmarked, but usually more or less spotted, or indistinctly barred above with pale brownish or fuscous, — perhaps heaviest on middle of back and wing- coverts; wing-quills and tail-feathers irregularly and sparingly spotted with dusky; below still fainter indications of dusky barring; legs and feet immaculate, heavily feathered. Bill and claws black; iris yellow. Adult female: Similar to male, but much more heavily barred with brownish black — only face, forebreast and feet unmarked; top of head and hind-neck spotted with dusky. Young: LTniform brownish dusky or sooty gray. Length of adult male (measured from tip of bill over head to end of tail): 635-685.8 (25.00-27.00); wing 410 (16.14); tail 230 (9.06); bill from cere 25.7 (1.02). Adult female, length 685.8-76 2 (27.00-30.00); wing 445 (17.52); tail 250 (9.85); bill from cere 27.5 (1.08). Recognition Marks. — Brant to eagle size; pure or nearly pure white plumage. Nesting. — Does not breed in California. Nest: A hollow in the ground, scantily lined with moss or grass and feathers. Eggs: 3 to 10, usually 5 to 7; oval, white. Av. size 57 x 45 (2.44 x 1.77); index 80. General Range. — Northern portion of Northern Hemisphere. In North America breeds chiefly on the barren grounds from the Yukon Delta, central Mackenzie, and northern Ungava, north to high latitudes. Winters regularly south from the Arctic Circle to southern Canadian provinces, and sporadically into the northern central states, and straggles even to California, Texas, Louisiana, and North Carolina; and casually to Bermuda (3 records). Occurrence in California. — Rare and sporadic visitor in winter. Two invasions recorded in recent years: that of 1896 reaching to Sonoma and Alameda counties, or possibly Santa Cruz (fide Thompson); that of 1916 reaching Del Norte (Nov. 1, spec, in M. C. O. coll.) and Humboldt counties. Authorities. — Cohen, Osprey, vol. i., 1897, p. 71 (Alameda, Sonoma, and Humboldt counties, Dec., 1896); Thompson , Condor, vol. iii.. 1901, p. 141 (Santa Cruz); Smith, Condor, vol. xix., 1917, p. 24 (Humboldt Co., Nov., 1916) ; Bryant, Calif. Fish and Game, vol. iii., 1917, p. 37 (n. Calif.; winter 1916-17). 1 Chas. R. Keyes. See Condor, Vol. XIII., Jan., 1911, p. 17* 1119 The Burrowing Owl STRAGGLERS of this species are occasionally reported from any of the northern tier of states in winter, but it is only upon the occasion of widely concerted movement that general attention is drawn to their presence. Such an extended flight occurred in the East in the winter of 1901-2, when information of the capture of more than four hundred specimens was compiled by Mr. Ruthven Deane. The last general movement in the Pacific Northwest occurred in the winter of 1896-7, and it was this invasion which supplied us with our first explicit records of the bird’s occurrence in California. A specimen was taken near Alameda on the 2nd of December, 1896, and three were shot in Sonoma County at about the same time. A correspondent of the San Francisco Chronicle, under date of December 8, reported the occurrence of Snowy Owls “in fiocks” in Humboldt County. Another movement, less extensive, was noted in the winter of 1916-17 ; and a specimen, an adult female, taken November 1st, 1916, in Del Norte County by Wesley Cooper, and prepared by C. I. Clay, of Eureka, is now in the M. C. O. collection. There is even a Santa Cruz record, of uncertain date, and we may suppose that other such occurrences have only escaped record. No opportunity is ever lost of killing one of these handsome mid¬ winter visitors; and one might suppose, from the number of specimens which adorn store windows and taxidermists’ shops, that the bird is much more common than it really is. “The home of the Snowy Owl is on the immense moss- and lichen- covered tundras of the boreal regions, where it leads an easy existence and finds an abundant supply of food during the short Arctic summers. It hunts its prey at all hours and subsists principally upon the lemming, and it is said to be always abundant wherever these mammals are found in any numbers. Small rodents are also caught, as well as Ptarmigan, Ducks, and other water fowl, and even the Arctic hare, an animal fully as heavy again as these Owls, is said to be successfully attacked and killed by them” (Bendire). No. 220 Burrowing Owl A. O. U. No. 378. Speotyto cunicularia hypogaea (Bonaparte). Synonyms. — Ground Owl. Billy Owl. Cuckoo Owl. Snake Owl. Description. — Adults: Above dull grayish brown (wood-brown, bister, or warm sepia), heavily spotted and commingled with white or pale ochraceous-buff, the spots paired on the larger feathers and defined by adjacent dusky areas, the paired spots enlarged and dissociated toward base of remiges and rectrices; tail thus irregularly 1120 The Burrowing Owl BURROWING OWLS six- or seven-barred; extreme forehead, ill-defined superciliary stripe, and throat, broadly, white; jugulum crossed by mottled band of brown and white, beneath which a pectoral semilune of white; remaining underparts white or pale ochraceous-buff, heavily barred, save on lower belly and crissum, with brown and brownish dusky; lining of wings chiefly pale ochraceous. The plumage is very variable both in the shade of brown and in the amount of white admixed, some specimens appearing nearly white on the head and upper back. Bill bluish dusky, changing to yellow on ridge and tip; iris lemon-yellow; claws black. Young birds are less spotted above, on head and back nearly uniform grayish brown, and are unmarked below save on jugular band. Chicks are covered with white down. Length 241.3 (9.50); wing 171.5 (6.75); tail 81.3 (3.20); bill from cere 14 (.55); tarsus 44 (1.73). Recognition Marks. — Robin size, but appearing much larger; terrestrial habits; head without plumicorns; light grayish brown coloration. / 121 The Burrozving Owl Nesting. — Nest: At end of underground burrow, 4 to 10 feet in length, usually a mere cushion of dried horse-dung, occasionally with admixture of feathers and other soft substances. Eggs: 5 to 1 1 ; white, subspherical, highly glossed. Av. size 31.8 x 25.4 (1.25 x 1. 00). Season: April 20-May 20; one brood. Range of Speotyto cunicularia. — Treeless portions of the western United States and adjoining British Provinces, south to southern South America. Range of S', c. hypogcea. — Western North America from Puget Sound (locally), central British Columbia, southern Saskatchewan, and southwestern Manitoba, south to Panama, and from the Pacific Coast (exclusive of the humid strip) with most of the adjacent islands, east to central Nebraska, Kansas, and southeastern Louisiana. Migratory from the northern portions of its range. Distribution in California. — Common resident in the treeless portions of the State up to the Transition zone. Not found in the humid coastal strip above Marin County, nor on the rocky desert ranges. Occurs regularly upon the islands from the Farallons south. Numbers undoubtedly augmented in winter by migrants from the North. Authorities. — Gambel ( Athene socialis ), Proc. x'Vcad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. iii., 1846, p. 47 (Calif.; crit., habits, voice); Coues, Birds of the Northwest, 1874, p. 321 (syn., desc. habits, etc.); Tyler, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 9, 1913, p. 51 (San Joaquin Valley; habits, etc.); C. A. Wood, Contr. to Med. and Biol. Research, 1919, p. 818 (eye structure). “BILLY OWL” is the humorous and half affectionate name be¬ stowed by all good Californians upon this familiar sprite of the roadside, this authentic genius of open spaces. Like an elfin sentry the bird challenges from his earthen mound, denounces us valorously as tres¬ passers, and then either dives ignominiously below or flees to some distant sage top. Or, if he holds his own at the mouth of the home burrow, he bows and clucks in a fashion which is eccentric rather than polite. Of the bird’s absurd appearance Coues has testified in a memor¬ able passage:1 “Their figure is peculiar with their long legs and short tail; the element of the grotesque is never wanting; it is hard to say whether they look most ludicrous as they stand stiffly erect and motionless, or when they suddenly turn tail to duck into a hole, or when engaged in their various antics. Bolt upright on what may be imagined their rostrum, they gaze about with a bland and self-satisfied, but earnest air, as if about to address an audience upon a subject of great pith and moment. They suddenly bow low with profound gravity, and rising as abruptly, they begin to twitch their face and roll their eyes about in the most mysterious manner, gesticulating wildly, every now and then bending forward till the breast almost touches the ground, to propound the argument with more telling effect. Then they face about to address the rear, that all alike may feel the force of their logic; they draw themselves up to their 1 Birds of the Northwest, 1874, pp. 326-7, 1122 The Burrowing Owl fullest height, outwardly calm and self-contained, pausing in the discourse to note its effect upon the audience, and collect their wits for the next rhetorical flourish. And no distant likeness between these frothy orators and others is found in the celerity with which they subside and seek their holes on the slightest intimation of danger.” These curious Owls are alone among the northern land birds in the choice of subterranean dwellings. On the Great Plains they avail them¬ selves largely of deserted prairie dog holes, but in California their choice falls oftenest upon the burrows of the ever present ground squirrels ( Citellus sp.). Badger holes are also great favorites, but no offering of the lesser rodents is despised. It is probable that the Burrowing Owl does not originate its burrow, although in the case of the smaller ro¬ dents the tunnels require to be enlarged. This the bird does, not with its beak, but with its powerful claws, loosen¬ ing the dirt and kicking it backward by succes¬ sive stages, until it is ejected at the entrance. A typical burrow may descend sharply three or four feet, then turn and pursue a slightly ascend¬ ing course until an ample nesting chamber, a foot or more in width and six inches deep, is reached. Some tunnels are much more extend¬ ed. Tyler, in Fresno County, followed one for eighteen feet, and was rewarded by a single egg — not to mention fleas. The nesting cavity is heavily lined with dried horse dung, torn to feathery shreds and Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Pierce THE BURROW 1123 Taken in San Bernardino County Photo by Wright M. Pierce spaced evenly. The tunnel has more or less of the same material scattered throughout its length, and a certain amount distributed over the external mound is a necessary evidence of occupation. This is the approved form of upholstery, but some naughty birds near Dos Palos are indulging a more expensive fancy. Here, in three instances, we found tunnels lined copiously with wings of the Black Tern ( Hydro - chelidon nigra surinam- ensis ), and no less than a dozen pairs of these gruesome mementoes scattered about each front yard. This habit is doubtless quite excep¬ tional, and due to the special temptations of the immediate neighborhood. One need not kill these Owls to learn what else they feed upon, for half-eaten mice, dis¬ membered frogs and headless snakes litter the floor, and invite the offices of the far-venturing blow-fly. Fleas usually abound; and alto¬ gether the nuptial chamber of this doughty troglodyte is not an inviting place. From six to eleven young are raised in a single brood; and when we consider that the adults themselves require more than their own weight of animal food daily, we begin to form some conception of the economic importance of these birds. Their food includes all the baneful rout of rodents, and they are able to kill ground squirrels of a size equal to their own. Besides these, lizards, frogs, snakes, and even small fish, are cap¬ tured. Grasshoppers and crickets, as well as beetles of many sorts, are staple food, and for these the bird hunts by day as well as by night. In the pursuit of prey, however, the birds become much more active at sunset, when they may be seen flitting about on noiseless wing, or else hovering in mid air above a suspected spot, after the well known fashion of the Sparrow Hawk. Small game is snatched from the ground without lighting, but in capturing a ground squirrel, the bird first plants his talons A PAIR OF BURROWING OWLS The Burrowing Owl 1124. The Burrowing Owl in the back, then breaks the creature’s neck by sharp quick blows of the beak. Soberly regarding the special claims of the hay rancher and grain- grower, I should say that, save the Barn Owl only, the Burrowing Owl is his best ally among birds, and that he who wantonly destroys one should be classed with the man who tramples a field of grain or sets fire to a haystack. Whenever food is plenty and the ground inviting, Burrowing Owls are likely to form little colonies, ten or a dozen pairs being found in a stretch of two or three acres. They appear to be peaceably disposed toward each other, and mates are notably faithful. Upon the advent of spring, or say in the early days of March, one may hear at evening a soft and mellow love song, coo coo-oo, coo coo-oo, which the male repeats by the hour. This sound, which our English friends declare reminds them strikingly of the old world cuckoo ( Cuculus canorus Linn.), requires to be carefully distin¬ guished from that of our own Road-runner ( Geococcyx calif or nianus) . It is perhaps more sprightly and thinner in quality than that of the love-lorn chaparral cock, but the resemblance is very close. Besides this engaging love note, the Burrowing Owl indulges the strongly contrasting clattering cries already referred to. This excited clacking serves not only to exorcise invaders in time of danger, but to voice various emotions, notably those which arise at early evening in pursuit of the chase. I have even suspect¬ ed that it was a sort of hunting song, a due notice to all imprudent moles, akin to the awful serenade with which the Mountain Lion terrorizes his prey. Be this as it may, the reverberating clack — clack — clack clack clack, sounding from field to field, serves to identify the twilight hours as Speotyto' s own. The Burrowing Owl enjoys an almost unbroken distribution through¬ out the treeless or lightly timbered sections of the State, from the base of the Sierras down to the ocean’s edge. Indeed, it does more than this, for it is one of the characteristic birds of the Santa Barbara Islands and those of the coast of Lower California. In such situations it is impossible to believe that the lesser sea-fowl- — petrels and auklets — do not furnish their quota of this bird’s fare. In 1911 I found a single Owl on the fiat below the siren on the S. E. Larallon, a very darkling bird, soiled, perhaps, by much searching of cinder heaps. I was told that several pairs had formerly bred there, but that they had been shot off because of their persecution of the smaller migrants. On the other hand, Brown, who found them abundant on Guadalupe Island, examined a nest which con¬ tained, as provision for five youngsters, only eighteen freshly killed mice, besides remains of countless others. Burrowing Owls do not thrive upon the desert, nor at Lower Sonoran levels generally, although they may be found under exceptional circumstances. Although civilization and at- 1125 The Burrowing Owl Taken in Oregon Photo by Finley & Bohlman BROTHERS For Younger Readers IF YOU WERE A BIRD I don’t believe you’d want to live in a hole in the ground, would you? It’s warm there, no doubt, but it must be stuffy and dark; and oh! supposing it should rain too much at once! But this bird likes it. He was brought up that way, and he doesn’t know any better. We call him the Billy Owl because, because — well, now, I don’t know just why we do call him the Billy Owl, but I guess it’s because he is so funny. When he hears us chil¬ dren coming, no matter how quietly, he scrambles up out of his hole 1126 tendant cultivation bear hard upon them, yet they are able to maintain themselves in out-of-the-way places, and in the shelter of fence rows. Squirrel poison claims occasional victims, especially the bisulphide variety ; and the Owls will disappear from sections where poison is persistently used. The Burrowing Owl to greet us. Somehow he seems to be very much excited and he’ll bow and scrape and say “How d’ye do?” over and over again. And then he’ll turn around and say “How d’ye do?’’ backward; and then he’ll say it frontward again. But he won’t stay to shake hands. No, not he. Why? Because he’s afraid. Think of that! And he doesn’t need to be afraid, either, because he has finger-nails as sharp as pins; and if he did stay and shake hands — well. I’m glad he doesn’t want to, that’s all. No, if we come too close, this funny, silly bird will fly away where we can’t see him any more, or else he’ll pop down into his hole again. If we had a spade we’d dig down and find him, but it would be a lot of work for daddy or somebody. If we could get down we would find Mrs. Burrowing Owl sitting on some round white eggs (oh, almost round, not quite) about as many eggs as you have fingers. And right beside Mrs. Owl would be a lot of cunning field mice (no, not live mice, but almost alive mice) that Billy had brought in for her to eat. And besides that there is, let me see, a part of a frog and a half-eaten snake and a — and a — oh, dear, I don’t believe this is a nice place for us at all. Let’s get out. The farmer likes to have these Owls about his place, just because they catch mice and gophers. One Owl is better than two cats, just to catch mice; and, besides, you don’t have to feed him milk. Per¬ haps that’s why he catches mice all the time — because he has to. This funny Billy Owl can be serious when he wants to, and he wants to be very serious at night in the springtime. Then he goes about singing coo coo oo , coo oo oo, in a sweet melancholy voice that makes the shivers go up and down your back — unless you happen to be a poet; and if you are, you say, “How perfectly beautiful!” And you mean it, too. But I want to tell you about Billy Owl’s babies, the babies which hatch out of the round white eggs — for I think they are the most delightful and perfectly behaved children I ever saw. Of course when they are tiny babies they have to stay down in the ground with their mama. But when they get big enough to walk, then Billy takes them out for an airing — one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! My! the ground is just boiling over with Owl babies. 1 1 2J The Pygmy Owls Billy has to count them off on his toes twice to be sure they are all there. Then they set out for a walk, while mama stands and watches them from the door. They learn to catch crickets, and they watch the big saucy grasshoppers as they spring up into the air and crack their heels together twice. Billy catches one and divides it between two of the children. Um! so good! And then they learn to turn over stones and meadow-cakes to look for beetles. But just then mother, on the lookout, cries, Quant, which means “Look out!’’ She sees a man coming on horseback. She does not know it is the bird-man who will not hurt her. Every owl chicken freezes, becom¬ ing as motionless as a stone. Then quayit quant , which means “Come home,’’ and every chick, obedient to the dot, turns and toddles toward that yawning friendly hole. How it happens, I do not know, but it is a fact that before the hole is reached a line has somehow been formed, with the youngest and smallest in the lead, and the biggest, whom we suppose to be the eldest sister, in the rear. Punctual to the second, not a peep of protest, not a chick remaining, in they go. One, two, three, tour, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! Big sister plumps in last, then mother and father; and Billy’s brood is safe. But suppose the danger had been real. Suppose it had been a coyote instead of the bird-man. And suppose one of the owl babies had hung back and said, “Oh, I don’t want to go home yet." Well, there would have been only nine little owlets to snuggle down in Billy’s nest. That’s all. No. 221 Pygmy OwJ No. 22la California Pygmy Owl A. O. U. No. S79a. Glaucidium gnoma californicum Sclater. Synonym. — California Gnome Owl. Description. — Adult: Upperparts warm brown (“deep broccoli brown to light bister or grayish snuff brown" — Ridgway), finely spotted with white or pale ochraceous buff — the spots are smallest, most numerous, and circular on head; fewest or wanting on upper back; larger, cordate or hastate on outer scapulars, wing-coverts and tertials; and everywhere obscurely shadowed by dusky; rounded white spots on outer webs of flight-feathers, ranging into bars; and tail crossed by seven ranks (counting concealed basal and terminal portions) of double spots; a narrow cervical collar of black and 1128 California Pygmy Owl About % life size From a water-colur painting by Major Allan Brooks The Pygmy Owls white shadowed by tawny; cheeks, sides, and a narrow band across jugulum, color of back or a little lighter, and similarly spotted; throat and central patch of breast below band pure white; remaining underparts white, coarsely streaked with sepia, the streaks tending to coalesce in stripes centrally. Bill and cere greenish yellow; feet dull yellow, with soles of bright chrome; claws yellow basally, blackening on tips; iris bright yellow. Immature birds are darker and redder brown above; the tone of the head is grayer, inclining to slaty, in decided contrast to back; spotting much reduced, nearly confined to forehead and wings. Length 1 52.4-190.5 (6.00-7.50); wing 93.6 (3.685); tail 65.9 (2.59); bill from cere 10.9 (.43). Female a little larger. Recognition Marks. — Sparrow size; chunky appearance; carries tail at angle; more unicolored above than Flammulated Screech Owl, and sharply striped (instead of mottled) below; larger than Elf Owl. Nesting. — Eggs: 3 or 4; short oval, white; laid in old woodpecker hole or, rarely, in natural cavity. Av. size 29.5 x 23.4 (1. 16 x .92) ; index 80. Season: About June 1st; one brood. Range of Glaucidium gnoma. — Western North America from southern British Columbia south to Guatemala. Range of G. g. californicum. — The Pacific Coast states and southern British Columbia, except the humid coastal strip, east to northwestern Idaho. Distribution in California. — Resident in timbered Upper Sonoran and Tran¬ sition zones of the central and southern mountain systems. Intergrades with grinnelli in San Luis Obispo County and the Mt. Shasta region. Authorities. — Heermann ( Athene infuscata ), Jour. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila. , ser. 2, ii. , 1853, p. 260 (Calaveras R.); Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc. London, 1857, p. 4 (orig. desc.; Calif.); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. i., 1892, p. 403, part; Sharp , Condor, vol. ix., 1907, p. 87 (Escondido; desc. nest); Swarth, Condor, vol. xii. , 1910, p. 109 (San Bernardino Mts.; desc. juv. and nest; food). No. 221b Coast Pygmy Owl A. O. U. No. 379a, part. Glaucidium gnoma grinnelli Ridgway. Description. — “Similar to G. g. californicum but much browner, the general tone of upperparts varying from deep snuff brown to verona brown; spots on upperparts (especially those on pileum and hindneck) distinctly fulvous or rufescent" — Ridgway. Size not appreciably different. Remarks. — A recently elaborated form in whose validity I have small faith. There is an undoubted tendency toward richer and darker coloring in all our coastal, especially humid coastal, forms, but the wonder is, in this case, that the tendency has been so stoutly resisted. Examples of this species from Puget Sound do, undoubtedly, average a little richer and darker than specimens from, say, the southern Sierras, yet I have before me a specimen from Seattle which is just perceptibly (say two vibrations to the million) darker than another from the Sierra Madre Mountains, with not enough of difference to found a quinquenomial on. A “rufescent phase” has not been recognized in our Pacific forms, as it has in typical G. g. gnoma; but a specimen (Mus. Vert. Zool. No. 4396) of a bright brussels brown color, taken by Dr. Cooper in Marin Co., in 1873, is either such, or else an extra¬ ordinary example of the fading to which these owl-brown shades are liable. Range of G. g. grinnelli. — The Pacific Coast district, broadly, from central California to southern British Columbia and Vancouver Island. Distribution in California. — Resident in the humid coastal strip, broadly 1129 The Pygmy Owls defined, from Monterey northward, eastward north of the San Francisco Bay region, to include the inner coastal ranges. Authorities. — Sclater (Glaucidium californicum), Proc. Zool. Soc. London, 1857, p. 126 (San Jose Valley); W. A. Cooper, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, vol. iv., 1879, p. 86 (Santa Cruz ; desc. habits, nest and eggs) ; Grinnell, Auk, vol. xxx., 1913, p. 224 (measure¬ ments) ; Ridgway, Birds N. and M. Am., part vi., 1914, p. 791 (orig. desc.; type locality, Humboldt Bay). No. 221c Rocky Mountain Pygmy Owl A. O. U. No. 379, part. Glaucidium gnoma pinicola Nelson. Description. — Adults: Similar to G. g. californicum, but grayer and general tone of the upperparts hair-brown or grayish hair-brown; streaks on underparts blacker. Dimensions not materially different. Range of G. g. pinicola. — The Rocky Mountain district of the United States, from Arizona to Montana (and west in mountains to confines of G. g. californicum) . Occurrence in California. — An adult female taken by Dr. Grinnell in the Pana- mint Mountains is referred to this form. Authorities. — Grinnell, Condor, vol. xx., 1918, p. 86 (Panamint Mts.). SAVE to the few initiates, a meeting with this fascinating little fiend must come as a happy accident. Fiend he is trom the top ol his gory beak to the tips of his needle-like claws; but chances are you will forget his gory character at sight and call him “perfectly cunning,” just because he is tiny and saucy and degage. Look your fill when fate brings him your way, for like the wind, his royal owlets flitteth where he listeth, and you cannot tell whence he comes nor whether he will come again this twelvemonth. When my moment of privilege came, this pocket edition of the powers that prey stood out boldly and unequivocally upon the topmost splinter of a wayside stub in a northern forest, and challenged attention. The gnome gave his back to the road, and now and then teetered his tail, which was otherwise set at a jaunty angle, nervously, as though there were something on his mind. But this preoccupation did not deter the Owl from bending an occasional sharp glance of scrutiny upon the birdman. Then all at once the bird whirled backward and launched himself, like a bolt from a crossbow, at a mouse some sixty feet away across the road. Seizing the “wee, timorous, cowerin’ beastie” at the very entrance of his hole, the bird maintained its grasp upon it with both feet, and supported itself against the rodent’s struggles by wings outstretched upon the ground. Not until the squeakings of the victim had quite ceased did the captor rise and disappear by rapid flight into the wood . A second meeting was more prosaic, but still illuminating. The Zwerg was out before sunset, but we never should have noticed him if we had not been looking upward, intent on early pussy willows, amongst which he sat, calmly, at the height of a dozen feet. There is always a 1130 The Pygmy Owls curious impersonality about the gaze of this little owl. Even when he does look in your direction (and he does not flatter you by constant atten¬ tion by any means), he does not appear to focus on you at all. Perhaps this is a trick of the eye, or else arises from its unlikeness to that of other owls. For although the atmosphere on this occasion was full of light, the bird’s pupils were dilated to the utmost, and the irides were mere yellow rims. When first put to flight, by approach from below, Owlikins did not flutter off like a soft shadow, as might have been expected, but pitched downward nearly to the ground and buzzed off like a young meteor, fetching up suddenly on another osier branch some fifty feet away. Thither I followed and clambered up to a point within six feet of him on the level. Even then the bird did not appear greatly disturbed, and he deliberately looked away from me as often as at me — affording an ex¬ ample of self-sufficiency which was really startling. In “bout facing” not a muscle of the body moved but only the grim little death’s head went round California pygmy owl and round. The Little Corporal was not greatly disturbed, either, by the noise; but when I reproduced the Screech Owl cry, he gave me careful attention and ap¬ peared so interested that when he flew again it was only for a space of ten feet. Each time, a little before he shifted, the bird evacuated, with an absurd little stretch and recoil, apparently so as to be ready for eventuali¬ ties. By the way, what a fierce digestion those little cannibals must have, for their excrement is always glistening white! I do not know how else The Pygmy Owls to interpret this, save as the passage of the lime and phosphates of their victims’ bones, which alone their voracious systems reject. In spite of his insignificant size, the Pygmy is a dashing little brigand, and no bird up to the size of a Robin is safe from its clutches. So bold is he that upon one occasion, when Mr. Bowles threw a large stick at one, the Owl charged at the passing missile with all imaginable fury. The diet descends not infrequently to insects, but squirrels of twice the Owl’s weight are promptly seized when occasion offers. Dark days are as good as night to them, and they are sometimes abroad on bright days as well. The flight of the Pygmy Owl is not muffled by softened wing-linings, as is the case with the Short-eared and others which hunt much a-wing; it is rather pert and noisy, like a Shrike’s. Like a Shrike, also, in extended course it dives with closed wings, then opens suddenly and flutters up with rapid strokes to regain the former level, — describing thus successive loops of flight. The Pygmy Owl “sings” in a small hollow voice, klook - klook - klook look look look look look look, with an effect for tempo something like that produced by the accelerating rebound of a tiny wooden mallet, struck on resonant wood, in quality something between this and the pectoral quaver of the Screech Owl. To our great coarse ears it is, of course, ridiculously inoffensive, but how like the knell of doom it must sound to a trembling Chickadee! Even more characteristic of the bird’s presence in the forest is a weird, tolling note, ventriloquial, elusive, and most marvelously penetrating. At some distance it meets the ear as. a mellow rounded took or todook, for it must not be conceived too short, nor yet as other than a monosyllable. At close quarters, however, one detects a premonitory sibillation, and at the end a gurgling, muffled ring. The whole becomes then (si)poolk(ngh) , and it may be best imitated by a whistle Avhich is conscientiously modified by attendant grimaces. Nor is it easy to exaggerate the penetrating character of this sound. When I first ran it down, I left camp with expec¬ tation of encountering its author somewhere within a hundred yards. I followed the siren call through a fringe of woods, across a bit of prairie, through a swamp, over a wooded hill, and into the depths of the forest beyond, where, at the summit of a grim fir tree, at a height of two hundred feet, and at a distance from camp of more than one mile, I made out the instigator of the pleasant exercise. Nor had I been deceived by the pixie’s flitting, for upon returning to camp, the notes were presently just as conspicuous as they had been at the outset; and subsequent study proved that that Owl was confined in his range to just that particular bit of woods. Coming south for the winter of 1912-13 Mr. Brooks amazed us by 1132 The Arizona Elf Owl his mastery of this woodland cry, and he used it as a key to unlock our local treasure boxes of Glaucidinm gnoma. Not only will the Owls them¬ selves respond to the cry and hurry forward, astonishment and perplexity written in every line, but all the song-birds rally also. It is the master call of the woods, as effective in California as the Screech Owl quaver is in the East. No. 222 Arizona Elf Owl A. O. U. No. 381. Micropallas whitneyi whitneyi (J. G. Cooper). Description. — Face highly varied, the disc scheme much modified; loosened disc feathers below and behind eye only, tawny; the white component of the rim present as four isolated solid segments, or emaciated quadrants; a patch before and over each eye, and a distal submaxillary patch white; the submaxillary patches flanked first by dusky and then by cinnamon-rufous, the latter continuous across throat; upperparts grayish brown (hair-brown), finely spotted on head, sides of neck, and back with tawny; the edge of wing white, and large white spots on wing-coverts, inner tertials, outer edges of quills, and outer borders of scapulars, the last confluent in transverse stripe; underparts white, varied by dusky and cinnamon-rufous, the dusky prevailing on sides of breast and sides, elsewhere as fine barring, vermiculation, or clouding, the rufous broadly central in interrupted patchy pattern. Bill pale horn-color; iris lemon-yellow. A rare “brown phase” is also recognized. Young birds lack the tawny spotting of crown and the ochraceo-rufous element is otherwise reduced. Length 127-146.1 (5.00-5.75); wing no (4.33); tail 49 (1.93); culmen from cere 9 (.35). Female slightly smaller. Recognition Marks. — The tiniest of owls — warbler size, but of course appearing larger; white in four patches on face; cinnamon-rufous of throat and underparts a rather striking feature. Nesting. — Eggs: 2 to 4; subspherical, white; deposited in old woodpecker holes, usually in giant cactus. Av. of 16 specimens in M. C. 0. coll. : 26.4 x 23.1 (1.04 x .91) ; index 87.5. Some specimens exhibit an index of 92. Range of Micropallas whitneyi. — The desert portions of extreme southeastern California, east to southern Texas and south through Lower California and in Mexico to Puebla. Range of M. w. whitneyi. — Desert portions of southeastern California, Arizona, southwestern New Mexico, and Sonora. Occurrence in California. — Resident in small patches of Sahuaro cactus found in valley of the Colorado River. Authorities. — Ridgway, Condor, vol. iv., 1902, p. 18 (Kern Co.; see Grinnell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. n, 1915, p. 74); II. Brown, Condor, vol. vi., 1904, P- 45 (Colo. Valley, Calif, side; breeding) ; Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zool., vol. xii., 1914, p- 129 (Colo. Valley) ; Brewster, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, vol. viii. , 1883, p. 27 (s. Ariz. ; desc. young, nest, eggs, etc.). A FEATHERED something at the bottom of a hole! Not a very inspiring thought, you say? No; not unless you happen to have been there. Not unless you have “the bug.” Yet it is for this that the 1133 The Arizona Elf Owl oologist will pack a ladder for weary miles over the desert. For this he will invade the haunts of the “side-winder” and the Gila monster. For this he will wrestle with tediously unending creosote and insinuating cat’s claw. For this he will brave the cruel cholla, which looses its bunched lances at a touch, or pierces the feet of the passerby. For this he will Taken in Arizona Photo by the Author WHERE THE ELF OWL NESTS ascend rickety heights of sahuaro; if need be, hug its spiny column to meet a flaw of wind or to gain an objective just six inches higher. (The thorns can be removed from the knees and arms at leisure over the camp fire.) For this he enlarges ancient wounds in the venerable cactus, plying his hatchet in the slithery substance of the “giant’s” flesh, until his arms are ready to drop off from weariness. And all that he may at last come upon a bundle of feathers at the bottom of one of the holes. The bundle is elongated, supine, comfortable to the hand, all but non-resistant. Draw it forth, the drowsy little elf! Claws it has, and they clutch convulsively, but they are scarcely strong enough to hurt you. Eyes it has, — yellow, saucer eyes, that might be wrathy if only the elfkin would wake up. Soft, weathered browns and streaky whites with touches of fawn make up a costume as proper as that of Scops or Bubo; but who 1134 The Arizona Elf Owl can believe that this little midget, who may be entirely hidden in the hollow of your hand, is really an owl? Owl! your grandmother! Why, you want to nuzzle it and call it “pretty baby,’’ and say its dad¬ dy ought to be proud of it. But hold! Let us see if there is anything else in that hole. One- two-thr ee-four round white eggs, as big as a Flicker’s, lying on the hard bottom of the cavity, without a shred of lining. This drowsy infant, this puny, pa¬ thetic pickaninny terror is a mother! Doubtless her little wits are work¬ ing mightily under that mask of insouciance. Let us see. Relax the fingers. Psst goes the bird upon the instant and takes refuge in the nearest bush. There she glowers for a mo¬ ment, and then takes f . , ELF OWL wing tor another sahuaro and dives confidently into another hole. It is the last we shall see of Mrs. Micropallas whitneyi today. Truth to tell, Elf Owls are very difficult of observation. The lore which has grown up about them is scanty and not always consistent. They are strictly nocturnal in habit, are none too noisy, and live a life so secluded that we can do little better than catch them asleep, or note them under artificial conditions. The classification of nocturnal noises proceeds by elimination, guesswork, or murder. Those who have tried the last-named method 1135 The Arizona Elf Owl describe the notes of whitneyi as a whinny, a rattle, or a chnrr. Major Bendire, who possessed as accurate a knowledge of this bird as any one, speaks of its* “peculiar call notes resembling the syllables ‘ cha-cha, cha-cha,' frequently repeated in different keys, sometimes quite distinct and again so low that they could not be heard more than 20 yards off.” Mr. Frank Stephens, also writing from Arizona, says:2 “With the evening twilight they came forth Irom their retreats, and were sometimes dimly seen, but oftener heard calling to one another. They had several different notes one of which sounded like the syllable ‘ chnrp ,’ while another was a low ‘tw-zur-rrr.’ These cries were heard at all times of the night but oftenest in the early evening and again at daybreak.” Our own notes made near Indian Oasis, Arizona, were of a bird which, quite after dark, moved from tree to tree in a bristling way and shouted chit it ik. These sounds scarcely constituted a rattle, because each syllable was possessed of a distinct individuality, albeit wooden enough. They were not altogether unlike the slapping of a stout string against a board . Examination of many stomachs has developed the fact that Elf Owls subsist almost exclusively upon an insect diet. Beetles, ants, grass¬ hoppers, and moths are mentioned ; and one observer finds that they make sallies into the air for flying prey, after the fashion of flycatchers. No instances of their preying upon other birds have come to light; and, indeed, Elf Owls appear to be on the best of terms with their feathered neighbors. Elf Owls, chiefly males, are sometimes taken by surprise in thickets, and their behavior on such occasions is quite like that of large Owls, viz., drawing themselves up rigidly with feathers “appressed,” and looking like badly bored majors. We took a specimen, a male, from a hackberry tree near Tucson, who on this account looked a half size taller than he should. Stephens thinks that the male may be partially gregarious during the breeding season, for on one occasion he found two “sitting out” in a bush, and on another — five. But, after all, we must come back to that old woodpecker hole in the sahuaro to get any further light upon the Elf Owl. Eggs are deposited from the 10th to the 20th of May, and the youngsters are covered soon after birth with abundant white fuzz. The female is likely to be in close attendance whatever the age of the chicks, but the male sleeps out in¬ variably. One special privation the Elf Owl is sometimes called upon to undergo. An unseasonable rain will ruin the most promising prospects, if the shelter be a sahuaro. It’s a long time between drinks for the thirsty giant, so 1 “Life Histories of North American Birds,” Vol. I., p. 412. 2 Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club. Vol. VIII., 1883. p. 28. 1136 -S* © K. 09 s *&?. -\ftis svtjs'l Roadrunner and Nest in Tunas From a photograph by Donald R. Dickey Taken near San Diego The Road-runner covers a brimful basket of very surly youngsters, and even the two young¬ est members of the quartette click their mandibles threateningly. On the 24th the young birds are still in no wise prepared to leave the nest, but one bumptious youngster, and not the oldest either, manages to heave his pot-belly over the edge of the nest, where he blinks at me belligerently (no pun intended). The mother bird coughs and wheezes upon the ground, and I see the purpose of this strange note at last. The bird is pretending to dis¬ gorge some lately captured tidbit. The performance is very realistic, even descending to the paroxysmal movements of eructation, the at¬ tendant contact of the bill with ground — where the Barmicidian morsel is deposited — and the ensuing relief. The coughing accompanies the effort, and makes it paroxysmic. Splendid! The ruse is too frequently repeated, however, to be convincing. Moreover, the coughing is some¬ times given, as on previous occasions, half-heartedly, and without the attendant disgorgement play. On the first day of July, which was my next chance to pay the nest a visit, nothing as to the whereabouts of the youngsters was discovered. I suspect, however, that they were “freezing” in the depths of the foliage, for I thought I detected the old bird giving hasty wrords of caution before she sailed, magnificently, from the tree-top. Of the Road-runner in captivity a separate chapter should be written. It really is a most engaging pet. Always original, whimsical, grotesque, it exhibits also a marked affection for its master, as well as a friendly regard for humans in general. Indeed, if the birds were properly en¬ couraged, instead of being systematically frightened, they would adapt themselves very willingly to the ways of men. Mr. and Mrs. William Otte, of Santa Barbara, have befriended the Road-runners along the Riviera crest, until they have come to haunt their place continually; and once a pair nested successfully in their garage. Mrs. Grinnell, of Pasadena, kept a Road-runner wrhich had the freedom of the house, and which kept her friends in a fever of interest by its artless, eccentric ways. Most curious was its custom of backing closely into a corner for the night, with its tail held bolt upright along the wall. Captivity reveals the fact that the bird is not closely dependent upon water. It will drink only at intervals of three or four days; but when it does indulge, it drinks copiously, — fills up as for a long sojourn in a distant desert. As for food, it is a good “rustler,” and keeps the place clear of mice, beetles, slugs, and cockroaches. Unfortunately, nestling birds have to be kept out of harm’s way — and chickens too, as like as not. If proffered a small bird, even though adult, the Road- runner will bolt it feathers and all; and the fact that it does not eject 11 47 The California Cuckoo the indigestible portions, such as bones, feathers and claws, is proof anew of the bird’s excellent digestion. No other bird is so bound up with the historic, romantic past of California. No other has so caught the fickle focus of public curiosity, or been rumored in so far a fame. Yet few others have been so penalized for such prominence. From the roisterous vaquero, who pursued the bird at sight, to the intoxicated possessor of the modern pump gun, who shot up everything in sight, the bird has suffered in cruel measure. Now that we have good laws, it is time to add good sense and good will, and so make amends for the stupid and depauperizing excesses of the older generations. No. 224 California Cuckoo A. O. U. No. 387a. Coccyzus americanus occidentalis Ridgway. Synonyms. — Western Yellow-billed Cuckoo. Rain-Crow. Description. — Adult: Above nearly uniform, satiny, brownish gray, with something of a bronzy-green sheen; the inner webs of the primaries cinnamon-rufous, the outer webs and sometimes the wing-coverts tinged with the same; central pair of tail-feathers like the back and completely covering the others during repose; remaining pairs sharply graduated, — blackish with broad terminal white spaces, the outer pair white-edged; a bare space around the eye yellow; underparts uniform silky white or sordid. Bill curved, upper mandible black, except touched with yellow on sides; lower mandible yellow, with black tip. Immature: Similar to adult, but plumage of back with slight admixture of cinnamon-rufous or vinaceous; tail-feathers narrower, — the contrast between their black and white areas less abrupt. Length 292.1-330.2 (1 1. 00-13. 00) ; wing 148 (5.83); tail 147 (5.79); bill 27.1 (1.067); depth of bill at base 8.9 (.35); tarsus 27.4 (1.079). Recognition Marks. — Robin to kingfisher size; slim form and lithe appearance; brown above, white below; sharply graduated, broadly white-tipped tail-feathers. Nesting. — Nest: A careless structure of twigs, bark-strips, and catkins; placed in trees or bushes, usually at moderate heights. Eggs: 3 or 4; elliptical oval; pale niagara green. Av. size 30.8 x 23.2 (1. 21 x .91) ; index 75. Season: May-July; one brood. Range of Coccyzus americanus. — Temperate North America; in winter south to South America. Range of C. a. occidentalis. — Not common summer resident of western United States, north into southern British Columbia, east to eastern Colorado and western Texas, and south through Lower California and Chihuahua. Winter home not distin¬ guished from that of species. Distribution in California. — Summer resident of Sonoran zones, chiefly west of the Sierran divide; locally common in willow associations of river valleys only. Recorded north to Sonoma County, Shasta County, and Bishop in Owens Valley. Authorities. — Newberry ( Coccygus erythropthalmus) , Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., vol. vi., 1857, p. 92 (Ft. Reading, Shasta Co.); Shelton, Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 19 (nesting habits, etc.; Sonoma Co.); Jay, Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 69, figs. (s. Calif.; desc. and photos of nest, eggs, and young; habits). The California Cuckoo CALIFORNIA CUCKOO “SUMER is icumen in Lhude sing cuccu ! Groweth sod, and bloweth med, And springth the wude nu Sing cuccu !’’ 1149 The California Cuckoo So sang one of the earliest of the English poets, of Cuculus canorus; but if we were to wait for the California Cuckoo to bring us summer we should lose our reputation for peerless Marches and full-blown Aprils. For the California Cuckoo is among the laziest of birds. When he does step in, surreptitiously, and hides in the greenery of late Maytime, the drama of summer has already reached the third act, and his services as enunciator are no longer required. Our bird comes silently, as well, and it is only after a week or two of residence, “getting settled,” that he begins to sound the notes which will put him in touch with his fellows or, per¬ chance, lead to him the lady love of the season. The song then is a series of explosive pouting notes: Cuckookook ookookook ook kook kook kook, first energetically then rallentando et diminuendo. Although the bird enjoys a rather wide distribution throughout the forested lowlands of the Pacific slope, the sight of a California Cuckoo is one of the rarest; and save in some few favored places, recognized breeding haunts, his voice is the rarest of sounds. Although I have lived for twenty- five years in the West, and am accounted fairly alert of ear, I should hesi¬ tate to tell how few times I have heard this bird — say six or eight. Those more favored by reason of acquaintance with the birds’ restricted breeding haunts1 tell us that upon arrival in the north the birds keep to the higher woodlands for a period of two or three weeks, after which they retire to the willow bottoms to breed. After this their entire aspect changes. No longer shy and difficult of approach, they show themselves more or less freely, as those who belong to the country; while a bird found on the nest will almost suffer the caress of a hand before darting off quietly to be lost in the foliage. At such times, too, the loud challenge “song” gives place to a low' guttural note, still “ kuk , kuk, kuk,” with w'hich the bird betrays anxiety, or signals to its mate. Then, too, a sort of exorcism is under¬ taken. The bird employs its ventriloquistic gifts and fills the neighbor¬ hood with weird unplaceable kuk kuk kuk sounds, which are intended to be for the intruder an accusing voice of conscience, or a reminder of avenging pow'ers which haunt the woodland. But apart, if possible, from its nesting anxieties, it is wmrth while to examine this genius at close range. Most birds prefer to face the enemy, so as to keep his every movement well in eye; but Cuckoo presents his back, a cold gray affair (save for russet wings), from behind wTich he peers now and then, turning his neck and giving you one eye in a lofty, w^ell-bred wray. I recall no other bird whose gaze is so calm, so direct, so fearless, yet withal so decorous. But nothing escapes him. He is not so vulgarly devoted to curiosity that he forgets business. Mercy, no! You may be wfithin ten feet ol him, but he plucks and swallows a caterpillar wdth as 1 See especially A. C. Shelton in “The Condor,” Vol. XIII., Jan., 1911, p. 19, and Antonin Jay, Condor, XIII., March, 191 1, p. 69. 1150 The California Cuckoo little ado or apology as if you were in the next county. But make a false motion, and the bird glides away into the deeper foliage with an ease and grace born of long practice. Silken, silent, sinuous, are adjectives which you instinctively apply to this sober, sly bird, as he steals through the upper branches, scarcely seen, but not unseeing, to emerge at length from the op¬ posite side of the tree, and to dart away like a little brown arrow into some distant copse. A close study of the California Cuckoo’s breeding confirms the opinion gained elsewhere, that Coccyzus americanus is a bird of highly irregular habits. It nests in May — it nests in August. It builds a nest on a rush order and deposits three eggs therein all within the space of a week — it loafs and dodders for a month, so that fresh eggs and young are found together in a nest. It lays one egg and attends it devotedly— or five and deserts them. It erects a slovenly platform which would dis¬ grace a dove — or it builds a sturdy nest which would do credit to a thrasher. Or, again, it does not build at all, but uses instead a deserted nest of some other bird, Mourning Dove or Black-headed Grosbeak. And, lastly, it is a model of the home-keeping virtues, rearing and tend¬ ing its own as all virtuous parents should; or, yielding to the taint of cuckoo heredity, it inflicts its casual offspring upon a foster mother, and goes its way unheeding. This last trait is worthy of particular notice, for it is exceptional, and not very numerously recorded in the West. Indeed, I am unaware of more than two instances, both recorded by Mr. Antonin Jay: On July 12, 1903, his brother, the lamented Alphonse Jay, took a set of Cuckoo’s eggs from a Mourning Dove’s nest which contained three eggs of the Cuckoo and one of the Dove; and again on July 14, 1907, he found a nest of the House Finch which held one egg of the Cuckoo and two of the rightful owner. As a locally exceptional instance, Mr. Antonin Jay records the find¬ ing, on May 10, 1901, of a nest which contained three newly hatched but dead young of the Cuckoo, and two eggs of the Mourning Dove well advanced in incubation. The Dove was sitting when the nest was found, and the construction of the nest appeared to point to the Dove as the Taken in Los Angeles County Photo by Antonin Jay BIG ENOUGH TO KOOK II5I The California Cuckoo builder. The interpretation (which is my own) is this: The C uckoo finding a completed but still unoccupied nest of the Mourning Dove deposited her own eggs therein. Whether she actually intended at this time to impose upon the Dove, we do not know — perhaps the Cuckoo did not know — and that she may not have known or cared is precisely the point of interest in a study of incipient para¬ sitism. The Dove, knowing the nest to be rightfully hers, although her own hour had not yet come, covered it suf¬ ficiently to start devel¬ opmental processes in the Cuckoo’s eggs. The deposition of her own eggs followed in due course; and having an instinct to cover them for a sufficient time, she ignored the premature arrival of the derelicts, Meanwhile, the rightful mother of the future foundlings, seeing that the complaisant Dove was will¬ ing to undertake an arduous duty in her stead, took herself off comfortably to caterpillar-hunting, and presently forgot the whole episode. In some such way, at least, the ancient wrong-doing of the Cuckoo began. It might fare ill for other song-birds if the Cuckoo abounded; but this much is sure, the advent of the Cuckoo would be a benison, in his own right, to the farmer. This testimony from an eastern author1 is apropos: “Few birds are of so much service to the farmer. Especially are the fruit growers and nursery-men its debtors. In early spring they love the orchard. I have known them to destroy every tent caterpillar ( Clisio - campa americana) in a badly infested orchard and tear up all the nests in half a day. While they may have eaten some caterpillars, out of most of them the juices were squeezed and the hairy skin dropped to the ground. Almost every watchful fruit grower has had a similar experi- 1 Amos W. Butler, in “The Birds of Indiana.” Taken in Los Angeles County Photo by Antonin Jay NEST AND EGGS OF CALIFORNIA CUCKOO and neglected to feed them before they perished. 1152 The Band-tailed Pigeon ence. Prof. F. H. King found upon examination, that one had eaten nine larvae of a species that destroys the foliage of black walnut trees. They also eat many canker worms . While they occasion¬ ally eat some of the smaller fruit, their work all summer long is to protect the fruit tree from its enemies. Although it has been accused of robbing the nests of other birds and eating their eggs, I do not believe the charge has been sustained.” In July, 1916, we found the snowbrush ( Ceanothus cordulatus ) at Sisson so infested with caterpillars that the entire chaparral cover was being ruined. Taken together there were literally bushels of the creatures. The solitary Cuckoo we encountered was having the time of his young life; but what was he among so many! No. 225 Band-tailed Pigeon A. 0. U. No. 312. Chloroenas fasciata fasciata (Say). Synonyms. — Wild Pigeon. “Passenger Pigeon” (as frequently misidenti- fied). White-collared Pigeon. Description. — Adult male: Head and neck all around and underparts, changing on abdomen, dull wine-purplish, darkest on crown and chest, lightening, more bluish, on chin and upper throat; a sharp, narrow cervical collar of white; behind this a cres¬ centic patch of rounded feathers in scale-like arrangement, iridescent, with brassy and bronze-green reflections; back, scapulars, and tertials lustrous purplish-slate; rump, upper tail-coverts, wing-coverts, lining of wings, sides and flanks ashy blue; crissum and under tail-coverts white; flight-feathers dusky; tail ashy blue basally, ashy brown terminally and crossed by a broad subterminal band of dusky. Bill yellow, tipped with black; legs and feet yellow with black nails; a prominent red eye-ring. Adult female: Like male, but somewhat paler, especially below, where also less purple and more brownish; cervical collar and metallic crescent not “subdued or wanting.” Im¬ mature birds lack the cervical collar and crescent, and are extensively washed with rusty brown below, especially on breast; wing-coverts paler ashy, and ashy-white-edged. Av. of 4 males and 6 females: length (skins) 372.2 (14.65); wing 219.8 (8.65); tail 134.4 (5.29); bill 17.4 (.685); tarsus 27.1 (1.067). Recognition Marks. — Little hawk size; a little larger than a domestic pigeon and appearing much like one; tail-feathers rounded; cooing notes; noisy flapping flight. Nesting. — Nest: A rude platform of sticks placed at any height in oak tree or conifer, or even upon the ground. Eggs: usually single, but 2 of record; elliptical oval or abruptly pointed at one end; pure white. Av. size 39.1 x 27.5 (1.54 x 1.08); index 70. Season: February-October, but usually May-July; one brood. Range of Chloroenas fasciata. — Western North America from southwestern British Columbia south to Cape San Lucas and Central America. Range of C. f. fasciata. — As above minus southern Lower Caliiornia. 1153 The Band-tailed Pigeon Distribution in California. — Breeding locally and in variable numbers in Transi¬ tion and timbered Upper Sonoran areas west of the Sierran divide, but chiefly in moun¬ tainous districts. The normal winter home of the species, so far at least as the Pacific states are concerned, is in northern and interior Santa Barbara County and in Ventura County, but their exact distribution at this season depends upon the acorn crop. Authorities. — Vigors ( Columba monilis ), Zool. Voy. “Blossom,” 1839, p. 26, pi. 10 (Monterey); Bendire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. i., 1892, p. 122 (habits, nest and eggs); Gilman, Condor, vol. v., 1903, p. 134 (s. Calif.; habits); Grinnell, Condor, vol. xv., 1913, p. 25, map (occurrence in Calif., food, habits, destruction, etc.)-, Grin¬ nell, Bryant andStorer, Game Birds Calif., 1918, p. 575, figs, (general account). WE FIND, rather to our surprise, that neither dictionaries nor bird-books define a difference as between “pigeons” and “doves.” The terms are everywhere treated as synonymous. The case is analogous to that of “toadstool” and “mushroom.” The mycologist assures us that these two terms are absolutely identical, yet popular appre¬ hension persists in regarding all poisonous mushrooms as toadstools, and in reserving the name mushroom for edible toadstools. Is there not really a somewhat similar feeling in regard to the use of “doves” and “pig¬ eons”? I think I voice the popular feeling when I define doves as Columbids which, by reason of small size, familiarity, gentle¬ ness, or other endearing qualities, are not properly regarded as fit objects of the chase. Pigeons, on the other hand, are those Colum¬ bids which, by reason of large size, gre¬ gariousness, stolidity, or general default of engaging qualities, are chiefly regarded for their food value. The term “dove” connotes affection, gentleness, purity, and peace. The term “pigeon” means nothing beyond mere huntableness, or, by implication, those very qualities of approachability, gullibility, and stupidity which play into the hunter’s hand. Pigeons are game-birds, and doves are non-game-birds. The writer is willing to abide by this definition in so far as it affects this and the succeeding species of California birds. The Band-tailed Pigeon of the West has been somewhat confused both in thought and report with his famous cousin, now extinct, the Migratory, or Passenger Pigeon ( Ectopistes migratorius) , of the East. The two species had little in common beyond the senseless confusion of identity. While formerly much more abundant than it is now, our western bird 1154 ■ .. . , nvji vH'' .£ r.!?:U\ vJv.'t.S.'V^V tftbVr v' >■'■■ lU.'? '• Band-tailed Pigeon About % life size From a > © *55 Q it? fee c * w c 3 O h JO © w O oT s *w E ©) 'S3 **« H3 © C (fl cc Ul H 4> Q* 5S <4i a -ft: 4) 4V Ph ’3 fi C< •p* Q Cfc -c> a> £ a c © 4> > o Q b£ C e p o ■S* £ » ?S •- ^ e £ I ■ft: *$T k! w €> <: ■f*. fi U 4> +* m o> The Western White-winged Dove non-killing. It is for the farmer to decide whether the “sport” of killing doves is worth more to him than his crops, whether the meat secured is worth, say, a dollar an ounce. Hunters urge, fairly enough, that the bird is abundant; that it is possessed of considerable recuperative power, i. e., is prolific enough to stand up under gun-fire; that it easily develops caution and the attitude of fear; that its rapidity of flight constitutes it an ideal target; that its flesh is sapid; and that its body yields a sensible return of food value. We shall ignore, too, the fact that these birds nest regularly throughout the State in July, also to a considerable extent in August, and not infrequently in September; so that the offspring of slaughtered parents must be left to perish. The business of sport cannot wait forever upon maternity. But the real question is, how can you endure to quench that voice,— that haunting, wistful, friendly voice? How could you wish to rebuke that erstwhile lover, the model of his race? How can you offend such con¬ fidence? or how abide the accusative eyes so wont to be tender? Or how shall gentleness — for the Mourning Dove is the most perfect exemplar of that sovereign grace — how shall gentleness survive on earth at all, if we meet it so with shot and shell? Is it a pleasure to be shunned by gentle creatures? to move always along a path of terror? to feel the woodland grow silent before us? to live, in short, in an empty world? No. 227 Western White-winged Dove A. 0. U. No. 319. Melopelia asiatica mearnsi Ridgway. Synonyms. — Singing Dove. Paloma cantador. Description. — Adult male: General color scheme somewhat as in preceding species; upperparts chiefly olive-brown (Saccardo's umber), changing to bluish gray on rump, top of head and neck washed with light vinaceous purple; wing with a broad white band from bend to tips of outer secondaries, the transitional area (between white and olive-brown) bluish gray; extreme edge of wing and quills blackish, the outer primaries very narrowly bordered and the outer secondaries more broadly tipped with white; a heavy dab of black below and behind ear, sometimes iridescent and flanked by feathers on sides of neck which exhibit first bright purplish red and then greenish iridescence; breast much like back, shading to whitish of chin and upper throat; remaining underparts, including lining of wings and axillars, bluish gray (light Payne's gray), paling on middle of belly and crissum; tail rounded from above, blue- gray basally, white terminally, separated by black band; the central covering pair of feathers like back, but faintly echoing general scheme by darker and lighter. Bill black. Adult female: Similar to male, but duller; iridescence on side of neck reduced. The Western White-winged Dove Immature: Without iridescence or black spot under ear; purplish vinaceous wash of head, etc., reduced. Length of adult about 300 (11.81); wing 160.3 (6.31); tail 93 (3.66); bill 22.6 (.89); tarsus 25.4 (1.00). Recognition Marks. — Robin size, — a little larger and stouter than Mourning Dove; tail rounded, not sharply graduated; white wing-patch distinctive. Nesting. — Nest : A rude but sometimes bulky platform of interlaced twigs, weed-stalks, or grasses; placed at moderate heights in bush or tree. Eggs: 2; variable in shape, but elliptical oval or elliptical ovate; creamy white, ivory-yellow, or pale cartridge buff. Av. size 30.5 x 23 (1.20 x .906); index 75. One specimen in the M. C. O. coll, measures: 33 x 20.57 (1.30 x .81) ; index 62.3; another, 25.4x20.57 (1.00 x .81), i. e., index 81; still another, a “freak,” 27.7 x 16.76 (1.09 x .66); index 60.5. Season: April-July; one brood. Range of Melopelia asiatica. — Southern border of the United States south to Costa Rica; Bahamas and Greater Antilles. Range of M. a. mearnsi. — Southwestern New Mexico, southern Arizona, south¬ eastern California, southern Lower California, and the Mexican plateau, south to Mexico and Puebla. Accidental in Colorado and western Washington (2 records). Occurrence in California. — Summer resident locally in the valley of the Colorado River. A straggler taken near Escondido in San Diego County (Sept. 25, 1911, Dixon). Authorities. — Morcom ( Melopelia leucoptera), Bull. Ridgway Orn. Club, no. 2, 1887, p. 40 (Colo. Valley); J. Dixon , Condor, vol. xiv., 1912, 196 (Escondido) ; Grinnell, Univ. Calif. Pub. Zook, vol. xii. , 1914, p. 123 (Colo. Valley); Wetmore , Condor, vol. xxii., 1920, p. 140 (habits; Ariz.). WE HAVE no record, apparently, of ornithological conditions ob¬ taining in Coachella Valley, which is the heart of the Colorado Desert, prior to its inundation in 1907 by “New” River. But we may be fairly certain that the mesquite forest, whose “bones” protrude even yet from the whitening shallows of Salton Sea, once resounded to the sonorous calls of the White-winged Dove. For where the mesquite tree stands, there dwells Paloma cantador , the “Sonora Pigeon,” beloved of Mexicans, and most familiar of south Arizonian birds. Palomas give not only color and movement to the landscape in Maytime, but their combined vocal offer¬ ings form the great diapason of all morning choruses from the Gila and the lower Colorado south to Brownsville and through the land of the Aztecs. Oo uh' uh 0000 , says the amorous dove; and hearing him for the first time in the distance, you might take him for a young cockerel. In utter¬ ing this note the bird throws his head well forward and closes his eyes ecstatically (thereby disclosing a livid blue eyelid) but he does not open his beak. In defiance of all the masters, he sings through his nose. The effect is charming, it must be admitted, but one cannot help wondering what the sound would be if only the bird would “sing out.” Chanticleer’s effort would surely pale beside it. As the bird becomes more earnest— gets down to business — the cadence changes. Iloo'luh oo' uh hoo'luhoo' uh, 1166 The Western White-winged. Dove in even but impassioned tones, is probably intended for a single pair of ears, or is an utterance en famille, after the eternal question has been settled. Anyhow, with a score of courtships proceeding abreast, the dove-thronged forest of May-time vibrates to a volume of sound not otherwise attained in the West; and the fortunate visitor is not likely soon to forget the multitudinous pipe-organing of Melopelia. The White- winged Dove is a tar¬ dy migrant, and its numerous arrival in late April is quite con¬ spicuous. Flight is conducted at low levels, and occupancy is effected by a pro¬ gressive invasion rather than by a sud¬ den coup. The birds troop across the roads in endless desulto¬ ry columns, or else rise hastily from a wayside snack ; or, most likely of all, gather upon ex¬ posed branches to mark with curious wooden detach¬ ment the passing of the intruder. When surprised, the White-wing makes off with a noisy flapping, like that of a Band-tailed Pigeon ; and the bird is so proud of the noise it can make with its wings, that it not infrequently stages for the benefit of the ladies a sort of flap-doodle song-flight. There is no song forthcoming, but the per¬ former applauds his own resolution by a rhythmical percussion of the wings. Seated on the nesting platform, especially with the tail turned away, the White-winged Dove scarcely differs in appearance from its cousin, the Mourning Dove; but when the bird is flushed, a large white crescent on each wing flashes into view, and one notes the broad terminal band of white on a tail spread fan-wise. The stolid groups which gather in trees remind one, rather, of Pigeons (Band-tails) than of our more familiar and more solitary Dove. Taken in Arizona A WAYSIDE REFUGE WHITE-WINGED DOVES IN TREE-TOPS Photo by the Author 1167 The Mexican Ground Dove The nesting of the White-winged Dove is rudely, but not exclusively, colonistic. A bit of mesquite or a stretch of willow may yield a dozen nests, while another half mile stretch, fully as inviting, is tenantless. The slovenly architect is not more careful than other dove-breeds, and so we have all varieties of nests, from mere horizontal branches and crossed sticks to elaborate platforms of grasses or weed-stalks. The eggs, two in number, are never “white” but always pale pinkish buff, or, more exactly, “pale cartridge buff” in tint. Only one brood, apparently, is raised in a season, at least in the North. From the number of idlers, whole flocks of them, seen at nesting time, one suspects that an earlier brood may have been reared somewhere in Sonora. At any rate, immature birds, birds of the year, as we suppose, mingle with their elders in the northern flight. No. 228 Mexican Ground Dove A. O. U. No. 320a. Chaemepelia passerina pallescens Baird. Description. — Adult male: Prevailing color brownish vinaceous, changing to olive-brown on upperparts, centrally (back, scapulars, inner tertials, rump, and upper tail-coverts), lightening on sides of head and forehead, whitening on throat, lower belly, and crissum; crown and neck bluish gray; feathers of breast with dusky centers; wing-coverts heavily but sparingly spotted with purplish black or blackish violet; alula, primary coverts, and quills blackish on exposed portions; the axillars, lining of wings, and concealed webs of quills, rich orange-brown (exactly auburn); tail slightly rounded, bluish dusky basally, blackening terminally, the outermost pair of feathers tipped with white. Bill yellow with darker tip; feet yellow. Adult female: Some¬ what similar to male, but much paler and duller, scarcely vinaceous, olive-gray or pale brownish instead; no blue-gray anywhere; the spotting of wings bright rusty or barely glossed with purplish. Length 158.75-177.8 (6.25-7.00); av. of 7 adults: wing 84.2 (3.315); tail 56 (2.20); bill 11. 1 (.44); tarsus 12.4 (.49). Recognition Marks. — Sparrow size; vinaceous coloring of males; terrestrial habits; the only tiny dove within our limits. Nesting. — Nest: A shallow platform of twigs and grasses; placed at moderate height in bush or tree. Eggs: 2; elliptical oval, white. Av. size 21.5 x 16.5 (.847 x .65); index 76.7. Season: March— July; also throughout the year in the Imperial Valley (Fortiner). Range of Chaemepelia passerina. — Southern United States and south through the West Indies and Mexico to Brazil and Peru. Range of C. p. pallescens. — Lower Sonoran and Tropical zones, from southeastern California and Lower California east to south-central Texas and south to Costa Rica. Occurrence in California. — Of common but irregular occurrence in the valley of the Colorado; probably breeds. Casual elsewhere at widely separated stations, 1/68 The Mexican Ground Dove especially in the coastal counties, San Diego, Santa Barbara, Monterey, San Mateo, and San Francisco. Authorities. — Coues ( Chamaepelia passerina ), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1866, p. 93 (Ft. Yuma); Littlejohn, Bull. Cooper Orn. Club, vol. i., 1899, p. 73 (Pes- cadero); Stephens, Condor, vol. v., 1903, p. 77 (Ehrenberg, Colo. R.); Todd, Annals Carnegie Mus., vol. viii., 1913, p. 534 (monogr.); Fortiner, Condor, vol. xxii., 1920, p. 154 (Imperial Valley, breeding; habits) ; ibid., vol. xxiii., 1921, p. 168 (nesting through¬ out the year). WHEN a tiny portion of the landscape, hitherto unnoticed, detaches itself from the ground, and charges with a curious little waddling flight into the nearest thicket, we naturally surmise a new sparrow, and we are not a little amazed to And instead a duodecimo dove; and when the mind has reluctantly accepted this quarter-sized pocket-edition of a dove as a fact, expectation is further defeated by finding not a kittenish approximation of dove-like qualities, a cunning, cuddlesome miniature “too cute for anything,” but a prosaic dead-in-earnest grubber of the fields, a self- centered, self-sufficient little dwarf who asks only to be let alone, and who sternly repels all overtures, whether of admiration or condescension. For one I resent this elfin self-sufficiency. What business has an under¬ sized, grown-up squab to maintain such a moral aloofness, to treat us lords of creation as though we were non-existent, or else, when we force the issue of attention, to move off in disdain as though the neighborhood were polluted? In my barefoot days I have seen a bevy of little girls act thus. Perhaps it is the defense of all dwarfs. The disaffection began, I think, at the mesquite camp where I found a “Mex” Ground Dove’s nest five feet up in a bush and not a hundred feet away. I immediately planned portraiture — surely an in¬ tended compliment. But as often as any one of us approached within forty feet of that nest the “techy” occupant faced about and sped away. We might sing, we might shout, we might dance if we liked, we might break up lengths of firewood in explosive succession — that was our busi¬ ness; but look at her sacred person — never! Finally I contrived a tunnel through the foliage, that I might direct the impartial glass eye upon her and snap her unaware. The portrait of Her Huffiness which, highly magnified, adorns the next page, is the record of my loftiest success. And yet these birds are among the most familiar visitors about rancherias and clearings. They consume weed-seed and fallen grain wherever found and even mingle with the chickens at morning mess. Singly or in twos or by dozens they seem to show a special fondness for the humble quarters of the Mexican laborers, and it may be they only cherish a special resentfulness against the white race. Business-like always, the Ground Dove is not less diligent in court- The Mexican Ground Dove ship. The call note, do woo' uk, odd woo' uk , sounds a little hard and an romantic in compari¬ son with that of the larger doves. The sound is very penetrating, but it is so low-pitched that some people fail to ob¬ serve it. The singer is discreet, and the sound usually ceases upon the appearance of the ever- despicable human. Yet at close quarters with his lady love, the work¬ aday swain knows how to be tender. At such times he trails after his enamorata with trem¬ bling wings and cries kool kooiil. The daily visit to the drinking pool is the recognized occasion for amours. Then dis¬ cipline relaxes and stern matrons will now and then accept blandish¬ ments at which cold reason shudders. But, after all, drinking’s the thing, and this, again, is business. The dovelet Taken in Arizona Photo by the Author , ill l r her huffiness, the Mexican ground dove seeks a shallow edge Ol mud and thrusts a beak in boldly. Not by the indolent dip and trickle of Chat or Thrasher does she satisfy thirst. No; with beak fully submerged, she drinks in rapid, gainful gulps. Heads up, a significant exchange of glances, and off they whirr with that directness which marks this bird an infallible champion of efficiency — and — tediousness. Dura et inexorabilis — tu, 0 Nana! Also a disappointment. 1170 <6 to c o £ C M-h C3 *-( k © 3 cl ij P cs ^ n m-( i>>. C JD bfi <» ° k. i- s3 c •~ _c til rt C u, *5 U- ■ o 5 3 rt 'S* c ^ u k 3 C/D c (U