Bird-Lore, March-April 1916

[a1]

VOL. XVIII No. 2	MARCH-APRIL, 1916	20c. a Copy $1 a Year
Edited by FRANK M. CHAPMAN Published for the Audubon Societies BY HARRISBURG, PA. NEW YORK
	COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY FRANK M. CHAPMAN	R. Weber.

[a2]

March-April, 1916

CONTENTS

⁂ Manuscripts intended for publication, books, etc., for review and exchanges, should be sent to the Editor, at the American Museum of Natural History, 77th St. and 8th Ave., New York City.

Notices of changes of addresses, renewals and subscriptions should be sent to
BIRD-LORE, HARRISBURG, PA.

Please remit by Draft or Money Order

Important Notice to All Bird-Lore Subscribers

B

ird-lore is published on or near the first days of February, April, June, August, October, and December. Failure to secure the copy due you should be reported not later than the 18th of the months above mentioned. We cannot supply missing copies after the month in which the number in question was issued.

Entered as second-class mail matter in the Post Office at Harrisburg, Pa.

[a3]

Send $1 for this famous

WREN HOUSE

Known as Jennie’s Choice

For three seasons “Jennie” preferred this House where there was a choice of fifty.

A. P. GREIM
“Birdville” TOMS RIVER, N. J.

THE JACOBS BIRD-HOUSE COMPANY

Our Indorsement.

First American enterprise for the manufacture of
Bird-Houses and Bird-Feeding Devices

Over 33 years’ experience by the Pres. Mgr.

Always leading in the Bird-House enterprise,

Jacobs Now Pays the Freight

to your nearest steam railroad freight station!

Twelve beautiful designs of colony houses for the Purple Martin.

Individual nest boxes for Wrens, Bluebirds, Swallows, Chickadees, Flickers, Titmice, Woodpeckers, etc.

Sheltered Feeding Devices and Food Tables, Cement Bird Baths and Drinking Fountains.

Genuine Government Sparrow Traps.

Direct from our factory to user at factory prices, thus giving customers the benefit of local dealers’ and agents’ commissions.

Mention this magazine and send 10 cts. for our beautifully illustrated bird-house booklet.

JACOBS BIRD-HOUSE COMPANY
404 S. Washington St., Waynesburg, Pa.

Just the Book to Interest Children in Bird Study

LITTLE BIRD BLUE

By William L. and Irene Finley

“No child can read this beautifully printed and illustrated book without having his love for the bluebird increased; even the adult will find much pleasure in text, illustrations, and exquisite make-up.”—Guide to Nature.

Profusely illustrated with drawings by Bruce Horsfall and photographs
by Mr. Finley. Price 75 cents net.

[a4]

Everything from “Soup to Nuts” for the Birds

Try Evang Bros. Mixtseed for Native and Migratory Birds! Large size package, 50 cents.

230 Main Street Evanston, Illinois

Bird Gardening

W

ALTER M. BUSWELL, at present the Superintendent of the famous Bird Sanctuary of the Meriden Bird Club, is prepared to give expert advice on all matters pertaining to the attraction and protection of birds.

Address: Meriden, New Hampshire

I should be pleased to have any MUSEUM or HIGH SCHOOL desiring to secure an excellent ORNITHOLOGICAL and OÖLOGICAL COLLECTION for study and scientific purposes communicate with me.

GEO. W. AMES
No. 707 Washington Avenue
Bay City, Mich.

To Bird-Lovers

Use Comstock’s
BIRD NOTEBOOKS
Nos. 1 and 2
in your bird study

Each book has outlines for recording location, size, nesting, habits, etc., for use in the field. In addition, book No. 1 has 30, and book No. 2 has 28 outline drawings of birds (by Louis Agassiz Fuertes), on watercolor paper for recording the colors.

These books are used in quantity in classes, rural, city and normal schools and colleges.

Pocket size, 124 pages
30 cts. each, 50 cts. set of two

Send for circular of the Nature
Notebook Series

The Comstock Publishing Company
110 Roberts Place, Ithaca, N. Y.

Do You Love Birds?

Encourage them to live in your gardens. Use our successful bird-houses for Wrens, Chickadees, Bluebirds and Purple Martins. Strongly made—well painted, to resist weather. Prices 35¢ to $10. Design illustrated $1 50. Our reliable wire Sparrow Trap endorsed by U. S. Government, $3 F. O. B. Dubuque. Write for free illustrated Folder No. 233-B.

Farley & Loetscher Mfg. Co., Dubuque, Iowa

Bird-Lores Wanted

(The publishers of BIRD-LORE respectfully urge subscribers who desire to have unbroken files of the magazine, to renew their subscription at the time of its expiration.)

Vol. I, Nos. 2, 3, 4; Vol. II, Nos. 1, 2, 3, 5; Vol. III, Nos. 4, 5; Vol. XIII, Nos. 1, 2. Philip Dowell, Port Richmond, N. Y.

Vol. I, Nos. 2, 3, 4, 6; Vol. II, Nos. 2, 3, 5; Vol. III, Nos. 1, 2, 4; Vol. IV, Nos. 1, 2; Vol. V, No. 1; Vol. VII, No. 1; Vol. IX, Nos. 3, 6; Vol. X, Nos. 1, 3, 4, 5; Vol. XII, Nos. 4, 6; Vol. XIII, Nos. 1, 2, 4; Vol. XIV, Nos. 1, 2; Vol. XV, No. 6. W. H. Broomhall, Stockport, Ohio.

Vol. XII, No. 5; Vol. XV, No. 6; Vol. XVI, Nos. 1, 2. Willard L. Metcalf, 140 W. 79th Street, New York.

Vol. III, No. 2; will pay $2. E. W. Hadeler, Painesville, Ohio.

Vol. XIII, No. 1. E. S. Wilson, 1044 Congress Ave., Indianapolis, Indiana.

Vol. X, No. 3; will pay $1. P. S. McGlynn, Moline, Ill.

Vol. XI, complete. A. J. Anderson, 1822 West Palmer Avenue, Sioux City, Ia.

Vol. XVI, Nos. 1, 2. A. D. Tinker, 631 S. 12th St., Ann Arbor, Mich.

Publisher’s Note.—Complete sets of Bird-Lore can no longer be supplied by the publishers, and now bring nearly three times the price at which they were issued. To subscribers who desire to complete their files, we offer the free use of our advertising columns.

[a5]

[a6]

(One-half natural size)

• 1. Bush-Tit
• 2. Lead-colored Bush-Tit
• 3. Lloyd’s Bush-Tit, Male
• 4. Lloyd’s Bush-Tit, Female
• 5. Verdin
• 6. Wren-Tit

A BI-MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE STUDY AND PROTECTION OF BIRDS

Official Organ of The Audubon Societies

The World’s Record for Density of Bird Population

By GILBERT H. GROSVENOR

Editor of the National Geographic Magazine

With photographs by the author

I

n the winter of 1913, our family bought a farm of one hundred acres, fifty acres in forest and fifty in fields, in Montgomery County, Maryland, about ten miles from Washington. We moved out in April. At the time, no members of the family, including my wife, six children, and myself, could name more than three birds—the Crow, the Robin, and the Turkey Buzzard. We had, however, become interested in birds, owing to our friendship for the Editor of Bird-Lore, and for other Audubon workers, and determined to see what we could do to get birds around the home, which we named ‘Wild Acres.’

The house is a typical old farmhouse, surrounded by an old apple and pear orchard, with vegetable garden and hedges, and open fields beyond. Surrounding the fields is a tract of fifty acres in woods, with a beautiful stream, and several springs scattered around in the fields and woods.

The first thing we did was to drive away the English Sparrows which had possession of the place. We got small shot-guns, and, whenever a Sparrow appeared, shot him. It wasn’t long before those that were not shot, left. We then made houses for Martins, Wrens, Bluebirds and Flickers, some of which were immediately occupied. We had such success that in the winters of 1914 and 1915 we put up more houses, and in the spring of 1915 had attracted so many birds around the house that Dr. H. W. Henshaw, the Chief of the U. S. Biological Survey of the Department of Agriculture, became interested, and delegated Dr. Wells W. Cooke to visit our place. Dr. Cooke was so impressed by the number of feathered friends that we had gathered around us that he urged me to make a census of the birds living on an acre or two adjacent to the house, as he thought it probable that a count would bring us a world record. The record up to this time was held by a family in Chevy Chase, Maryland, who had attracted thirteen pairs of birds to one half-acre.

A BLUEBIRD'S NEST BOX, IN WHICH A PAIR OF BLUEBIRDS REARED THREE BROODS IN 1914, AND AGAIN IN 1915

The prospect of securing a world’s record was so inviting that, during the last week of June, 1915, I made a census of all birds nesting on the acre adjoining our house and barns, with the result that we found fifty-nine pairs of birds with young or eggs in the nest on that acre, the highest number of land-birds inhabiting one acre that has yet been reported to the Department of Agriculture or to any Audubon society. The details of the census are presented below:

LIST OF BIRDS NESTING ON ONE ACRE ADJACENT TO THE HOUSE AND BARNS
OF GILBERT H. GROSVENOR IN THE WEEK OF JUNE 15-21, 1915

(Only pairs whose nests were located with young or eggs in them are counted.)

The asterisk (*) indicates pairs nesting in boxes put up by the family.

A similar census made of the second adjoining acre showed thirty-three pairs nesting in this area, as follows:

LIST OF BIRDS NESTING ON SECOND ACRE

I attribute our success primarily to shooting the Sparrows and driving all cats away, to putting up many boxes, to keeping fresh water handy at all times, etc. We did everything we could for the comfort of our birds; for instance, we put on twigs little pieces of the oil-paper that our butter was wrapped in, and we left mud in convenient places for the Martins. The Catbirds used the oil-paper for their nests, in fact, they used all kinds of scraps. Imagine the delight of the family when, on examining one of the Catbird’s nests in the autumn, we found one of the children’s hair-ribbons, and also a piece of an old dress of the baby!

A SCREECH OWL'S NEST This box was put up for Flickers in the winter of 1914. Flickers took possession in March, but were driven out by Sparrow Hawks. But the Sparrow Hawks were frightened away two weeks later by the too great prominence of the position. Later a pair of Screech Owls adopted it for their home. Last winter we took the box down and carried it to the barn, to serve as a model for making other boxes. On opening it we found a live owl inside.

A SPARROW HAWK’S NEST ON THE EDGE OF THE WOODS We had much difficulty in keeping red and flying squirrels out of the houses placed near the woods. In 1915 red squirrels drove out a pair of Flickers brooding in a box on the forest edge.

We had read a great deal about how tame birds become when they are protected, but were constantly amazed at the quickness with which they perceived the care taken of them. Perhaps the most remarkable nest was that of a Phœbe, which was built under the cornice of the piazza, within reach of my hand. We had a little school in the morning at the house, and ten children were continually running up and down the piazza, shouting at the top of their voices, but the Phœbe went on building her nest, then hatched her eggs and fed her young without fear, though she could see everyone and everyone could see her.

I was also surprised to find how friendly birds, even of the same species, can become. For instance, we had fourteen pairs of Wrens on a single acre, some of the nests being not more than fifteen feet apart. We also had Robins nesting only twelve yards apart. The Bluebirds, on the other hand, do not like each other and would not tolerate another pair of Bluebirds nearer than 100 yards.

A FLICKER WAS NESTING IN BOX AND DID NOT STIR, THOUGH THERE WERE FIVE CHILDREN IN THE TREE AND FOUR BELOW WHEN THIS PHOTOGRAPH WAS TAKEN. (June 7, 1914.)

AN APARTMENT HOUSE FOR WRENS When we started building houses, we did not realize that Wrens would not share a house with another pair of Wrens. This house has rooms for eighteen pairs of Wrens. The room on the left was occupied in 1913, 1914 and 1915, and all the other rooms were vacant. Note Wren on box.	A WREN HOUSE IN THE GARDEN Note the Wren on the perch. We had fourteen pairs of house Wrens nesting on one acre adjoining the house and barns in 1915. This is the largest number reported of Wrens living on one acre.

The first year we had no Flickers, but there was a pair nesting in an old apple tree on our neighbor’s property. During the winter the tree was blown down and our oldest son obtained permission to get it. He cut out the portion of the tree which contained the nest, cleaned out the hole, and then hung the nest in a dying cherry tree, as shown in our illustration. The nest was not more than ten yards from the house, but was taken possession of in 1914 and again in 1915.

The photographs illustrate some of our tenants. We are putting up this winter many more houses on the rest of the farm, as, up to this time, our efforts have been confined to the ten acres nearest the house.

A FLICKER'S NEST BOX ON AN APPLE TREE ONLY TWELVE YARDS FROM THE HOUSE AND BORDERING THE DRIVEWAY. In this same tree, also, a pair of Robins and a pair of Chipping Sparrows nested in 1915.

A BOX OCCUPIED BY FLICKERS AND WRENS When the Flickers came back the second year (1915), they tried to excavate a new door to their house, on the opposite side from that shown in the picture, but soon desisted, leaving a hole about 2 inches deep. Later a pair of Wrens built a nest in the new hole, so that in 1915 a brood of Flickers and a brood of house Wrens were living in the box at the same time. Note the Flicker’s head in the doorway.

We have already found the following birds nesting on some part of the 100 acres of field and woods: Flicker, Robin, Catbird, Bluebird, Orchard Oriole, House Wren, Purple Martin, Summer Warbler, Brown Thrasher, Chipping Sparrow, Phœbe, Barn Swallow, Grasshopper Sparrow, Whip-poor-will, Towhee, Indigo Bunting, Black-and-White Warbler, Song Sparrow, Meadowlark, Chat, Maryland Yellowthroat, Field Sparrow, Cardinal, Red-eyed Vireo, Ovenbird, Wood Thrush, Scarlet Tanager, Acadian Flycatcher, Great Crested Flycatcher, Mourning Dove, Kingbird, Red-headed Woodpecker, Wood Pewee, Bob-white, Chickadee, Titmouse, White-breasted Nuthatch, Carolina Wren, Mockingbird, Goldfinch, Crow, Bluejay, Downy Woodpecker, Hairy Woodpecker, Barred Owl, Screech Owl, Sparrow Hawk, Red-shouldered Hawk, Redstart, Yellow-throated Vireo, Cedarbird, Vesper Sparrow, Louisiana Water-thrush, and Ruby-throated Hummingbird.

We had, in 1915, seventy-five pairs of Martins in an area of approximately ten acres, and expect to have a great many more than this in 1916. We had one pair of Red-shouldered Hawks nesting in our woods, and kept them for two years; but they developed such fondness for poultry, being caught repeatedly thieving, that finally we had to shoot them.

We have in the woods a splendid pair of Barred Owls. They come around the barns at night, and I suspect them also of attempts at chicken-thieving, but they are too handsome and rare a bird in these parts to shoot. We have nothing good to say of the Screech Owl, which we suspect of having been the cause of the mysterious disappearance of many young birds from the nests.

If any one wants excitement, I suggest that he buy or borrow a stuffed Owl, and put it out in the garden in the daytime during the nesting season. All the birds in the neighborhood will soon congregate, and the children will learn the birds quicker than in any other way.

The Robin in Yosemite

By GARRETT NEWKIRK

In this divine cathedral grand,
O’erborne by silent awe I stand,
When, friendly greets me, near at hand,
The Robin in Yosemite.

Beneath high wall and towering dome,
By roaring rapids dashed with foam,
I hear the old, sweet voice of home—
The Robin in Yosemite.

I hear from every sculptured wall
The voices of the ages call,
And, cheering with their echoes all,
The Robin in Yosemite.

The Spring Migration of 1915 at Raleigh, N. C.

By S. C. BRUNER and C. S. BRIMLEY

T

he migration of birds at Raleigh, N. C, during the spring of 1915 was so unusual that it is believed that a short account, together with a list of the records, will be of interest to the readers of Bird-Lore. In considering the following remarks, it may be well to bear in mind that records of the bird migration in this locality have been made each year for the past thirty-one years. Also, the amount of time spent in making observations during the past season is significant. From March 19 to May 7, field trips were made by Mr. Bruner on forty-seven days out of a possible fifty. Prior to and after this period observations were made by him for several weeks at intervals of from two to four days. Mr. Brimley was in the field for twelve days from March 30 to April 28, but was unable to pay full attention to birds. The duration of each trip averaged about four hours, this figure not including the time spent in going to and from the city. Observations for the most part were made independently by each of the writers, and on lands differing somewhat in general character. It is believed that the great majority of species were recorded on as near the actual date of their arrival as it would ordinarily be possible to obtain them.

The most remarkable fact in connection with the season was the very great delay in the arrival of the earlier migrants and in the departure of the winter birds. This was very probably due almost entirely to the unusual weather conditions which seemed to prevail throughout the South during March and early April. March was abnormally cool, especially so during the latter part of the month. At Raleigh one-half of an inch of snow fell on the thirty-first, and this was soon followed by the most severe snowstorm on record for the month of April. On April 2, at 8 P. M., wet snow began to fall, and continued steadily until about 8 P. M. on April 3, the ground at that time being covered to a depth of about ten inches, the total fall being equivalent to thirteen inches of dry snow. In the wake of this storm came fair and very warm weather. By April 6 nearly all traces of snow had disappeared, and the birds began to arrive. Between April 6 and April 9, the Black-and-White Warbler, Louisiana Water-Thrush, Yellow-throated Warbler, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Maryland Yellowthroat, and White-eyed Vireo all reached Raleigh, these species being from nine to fourteen days late. Prior to this period the Chipping Sparrow had appeared on March 19—about two weeks late,—and the Blue-headed Vireo on April 1, this bird arriving only one week late. After April 6, the greater number of other species came in at about their usual time or a few days later, but several were decidedly early. The Kingbird reached Raleigh on April 12, the earliest date yet recorded in this locality. However, this was the only record for early arrival that was broken among the commoner species, although two others were equaled.

Six new records were established for late departures of winter birds, namely: Loggerhead Shrike, April 1; Fox Sparrow, April 6; American Pipit, April 6; Brown Creeper, April 19; Song Sparrow, April 28, and White-throated Sparrow, May 19. Two former records were duplicated and seven of the remaining fourteen species noted were from four to fourteen days later than the average. It is plain that species which leave normally before the sixth of April could have been delayed a few days by the severe weather of late March and early April; but it is not easy to understand how it could have affected, to any marked extent, the species which depart in late April and in May.

The migration at Raleigh was also characterized by an unusually great variety of species, including a number of very rare birds. A Black-crowned Night Heron taken on April 4 and a Bay-breasted Warbler observed on May 5 constitute new local records. Other rare or uncommon species worthy of especial mention are the Yellow-crowned Night Heron, Osprey, Black-throated Green Warbler, Yellow-legs, Pectoral Sandpiper, Bartramian Sandpiper, Cape May Warbler, Blue-winged Warbler, Chestnut-sided Warbler, Baltimore Oriole, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, and Wilson’s Warbler. The total number of species whose arrival was observed amounted to no less than sixty-eight in all, which is the largest number yet recorded at Raleigh during a single season. This fact can probably in no way be attributed to the abnormal weather conditions before mentioned (except possibly in the case of the Night Herons), but rather to the large amount of time spent in making observations. Also the fact that two observers were in the field did not play so large a part in this as might be expected, as one of them alone observed all but one of the sixty-eight species recorded.

A. COMMONER SPECIES

B. RARER SPECIES [2]

[1] The average date of arrival was calculated from records made during the period 1884 to 1911 inclusive.

[2] This group includes species of which our records are too meager or too irregular to obtain an average as to time of arrival.

First Efforts at Bird Photography

By H. IRA HARTSHORN, Newark, N. J.

With photographs by the author

T

he accompanying pictures are the results of my first attempts at bird photography, and I want to let others know how much pleasure is to be derived from this method of studying birds. All the pictures I have taken so far are of the tame birds one sees every day around the house. That is, if one doesn’t live in too big a city; in which case a trolley to the suburbs will answer, as it did in my case.

My equipment, which includes a second-hand camera, two plate-holders, an electrical release, a flashlight battery, small satchel, flexible wire, etc., did not cost over $8.

CHIPPING SPARROW FEEDING ITS YOUNG

The first nest I saw last year was a Chickadee’s nest. I found it on April 18. It was still cold, with not a leaf on the trees. The two birds were taking out chips from the top of a birch stump, which was about seven feet high. The hole was about eight inches deep. There was still no lining in the nest, so I knew that the birds had not prepared it for the reception of the eggs.

I visited it again on April 26, and expected to see two eggs in the little home; but, when I arrived there, I found that the nest had been broken off at the very bottom of the eight inches already dug. This was caused by the Chickadees’ digging too close to the rotten bark, when the first gust of wind probably broke it. Much to my delight, the birds were not daunted by this misfortune, but kept on building. On April 24, the hole was started the second time. A friend saw the Chickadees begin the hole. On April 26, the hole was six inches deep! The birds had dug through fourteen inches of wood to make their home!

CHICKADEE LEAVING ITS NEST TO FORAGE FOR A FAMILY OF EIGHT

On May 2 the nest was finished, and on May 9 there were eight eggs in the little bit of a hole that could hardly hold the mother bird.

May 23, I took my camera with me to the nest. I expected that the young birds would be out by that time, and that the old birds would be flying in and out with food, giving me many opportunities for photography. I looked in the nest and saw that every egg was hatched, so I proceeded to set my camera about two feet away, when who should appear on the ground-glass but one of the parents, with a mouth full of struggling little green caterpillars. She, if it were the female, looked at the camera a second or two, then, without another thought of the outside world, hopped down into the nest and fed her young.

CHIPPING SPARROW APPROACHING ITS NEST

The camera arranged, I was just about to seek concealment behind a bush, when both of the parent birds flew near the nest with food. I stood very still. One of the birds, the male, I think, stopped too, but the other one flew right into the nest. She soon came out, and stood on the very point I had the camera focused. Very slowly I put my hand up to the shutter-release, expecting the bird to fly any minute; but at last I reached it and, click, I had my first ‘close up’ bird picture. And it was the best one, too; for although I took six or seven others, they did not turn out so well as the first one.

CHIPPING SPARROW BROODING

May 31, I went to take the pictures of the little Chickadees, but found that they were still too small to handle. I was not able to go again, but my friend reports that the whole family of eight young left the nest, and were very healthy-looking little birds. This nest was situated on the edge of a woods at Verona, N. J.

During the two weeks’ vacation at Fredon, Sussex Co., N. Y., I found twelve nests, a list of which follows. All but three were found on a farm.

One Robin’s nest, containing one egg. Deserted for unknown cause.

Two Field Sparrows’ nests. Each contained young, almost full-grown birds. One nest had an unfertile egg in it.

One Barn Swallow’s nest, containing four eggs.

Two Red-winged Blackbirds’ nests, each with four eggs. Both nests were broken up. One was entirely empty and the other contained the shells of the eggs. I could not find out the cause of this double tragedy.

A HOUSE WREN ENTERING ITS NEST IN A FENCE-POST

Two House Wrens’ nests. Both of these were in fence-posts. I caught one bird with the camera just as it was entering the nest.

Two Chipping Sparrows’ nests. One was in an unusual place, on the limb of a Norway spruce that projected over the porch roof. I got some very good photographs of this family, which consisted of the parents and three young. The young were hatched on June 6, and they left the nest on June 15.

One Kingbird’s nest, containing three eggs, was on a limb of a willow tree that extended over a pond about ten feet. The nest itself was three feet above the water.

One Flicker’s nest. I could not determine the number of young in this nest, but I knew they were there by their hissing at a shadow over the entrance to the nest.

This year the Bobolink appeared in the neighborhood of Fredon for the first time in at least four years, if not more.

Of all the songs of birds I have heard, I like the Bobolink’s the best.

LONG-EARED OWL ON ITS EGGS IN AN OLD CROW'S NEST

Photographed by H. and E. Pittman, Wauchope, Saskatchewan.

The Interesting Barn Owl

By JOSEPH W. LIPPINCOTT, Bethayres, Pa.

With a photograph by the author

T

he Barn Owl commands my respect. He is the greatest mouse-eating machine I have yet encountered, and as such surely deserves every consideration in these days of crop destruction by rodents. Like most Owls, he does not allow his presence long to remain unsuspected. A loud, harsh scream after nightfall, repeated at the right intervals to keep one awake and echoed by the young Owls when they appear, is his greeting. And well may the little mice shiver in their poor retreats!

I heard the good old Barn Owls again and again during early spring nights, and later found that two, or perhaps more, young ones were generally in or about a hemlock grove not far from the creek and the swampy meadows that make such ideal feeding-grounds and are, in fact, the nucleus of the rodent hosts that spread over the neighboring farms each summer. It was by mere accident, however, that I found a nest.

A neighbor was planning a greenhouse on the site then occupied by his young chickens and, to give security to the glass, cut down a great storm-battered and fire-scarred buttonball tree that stood at one end of his farm buildings. Down it came with terrific force, but without killing three young Barn Owls, which were able to give one of the workmen a big scare when he climbed over the top. And this happened in the middle of August, when one brood was already in the woods!

They were in a deep, dark, ill-smelling hollow, and a weird-looking trio indeed with the white down still clinging over the yellow-brown feathers. What startled the workman was a splendid series of hisses; for they understood how to make the sound about as wickedly as the most poisonous serpent.

A little Owl is generally all grit, and these were the grittiest, bramble-footed propositions I ever expect to handle. Their big eyes kept an unwinking glare fixed on each one who came near, and they leaped like lightning, often all three together, at a hand thrust within reach. It would have been very comical except for the bitter earnestness which the poor little fellows put into their defense, making one feel sorry for them when double gloves prevailed, and they were deposited in a chicken-coop nearby, to prevent interference with the chopping. Then, for hours after the moving, it seemed as if steam were strangely and violently escaping from an ordinary chicken-coop, much to the astonishment of visitors.

Around the tree were many of the small masses of fur and bones which Owls disgorge a few hours after meals. These show very well what animals have been taken and, in this case, were most interesting, since the dozens I examined contained the remains of field mice, deer mice, shrews, and moles only. No rabbits, no squirrels, no insects, no little birds! Indeed, there was not a feather of any kind, although the little chickens had been running about and roosting all spring and summer within a few feet—alluring, easy and constantly announcing their presence by seductive peeping.

A YOUNG BARN OWL

The old hollow must have suffered long use. It opened toward the south through a large limb hole about thirty feet from the ground, and also upward through the broken top of the tree; though that exit was not used, and probably only served to let in a veritable deluge of water during the thunderstorms. No doubt, too, the young Owls amused themselves watching the clouds and the stars pass slowly over their heads day by day, with the added excitement of a Hawk, Buzzard, or smaller bird now and then. They rested on layers of debris which, when examined, showed that honey bees had once been tenants, and later bats and generations of Owls, perhaps many other birds, for hollows have a strange, interesting history.

The birds themselves seemed about the size of old ones without the full feathering, strong muscle and weight. They were so queer and wore such humorous expressions whenever approached that, from the first, they would have been objects of continual interested observation, were it not for the rather discouraging fact that this almost always brought on a quarrel. The bright light and excited feelings seemed to confuse one so much that he would mistake the others for enemies and pounce on them. This caused equally fierce retaliation every time, and resulted in all three being scratched about the thighs. Darkening the coop remedied this.

It impressed me then as strange that, with all the birds’ show of aggressiveness, there was no snapping of beaks nor marked disposition to bite; but I later found that they did not have the same strength in their beaks as most varieties of Owls, particularly the Great Horned Owls, which crush the skull of a rabbit with such ease. This, I suppose, has something to do with the species’ love of very small mammals, which can be torn to pieces and swallowed without trouble by those queer cavernous mouths. Their hooked claws, which gripped me on several occasions, were all right, though and as sharp as needles.

The youngsters were left severely alone until evening, when, with the lessening light, came a quick change. They seemed to lose some of their fear, and to be expectantly listening for something. Every now and then one would utter a rasping cry, which blended harmoniously with the insect chorus and yet could be heard a long distance.

Just as the sun set and the glow still spread over the west, the cries became very insistent, and a shadow seemed to pass for an instant over the coop as one of the parents flew quietly into a locust tree nearby, and stood there close to the trunk, a mouse dangling from the left foot. It soon flew out and circled noiselessly, only to disappear very soon, much to the disgust of the coop occupants. Several minutes elapsed, the evening silence broken only by the rasping call and the drum of the katy-dids; then an old Owl circled by bearing a mouse in its beak. It may have been the same bird and the same mouse, the deepening shadows making it impossible to see accurately.

The night being dark, I left my hiding-place and the birds until morning, when it was surprising to find only the smallest of the three in the coop, and that dead. The other two had escaped; but how they squeezed beneath slats which allowed only the tiniest chicks to go through will ever be a mystery to me. I could not even pull out the remaining one. It was much less developed than the other two, both in size of limb and feather, and had evidently succumbed to the effects of the frightful fall, though its body showed no bruise.

I hunted around the debris of the felled trees, and finally spied the others, which had done some expert climbing and hidden in the darkest corners, one beneath a tree trunk, the other in a leafy top where it had evidently stayed all night, as evidenced by a kind of bed stamped down and lined with surplus food carried there by the parents. Such a supper! three particularly fine meadow mice and a fat star-nosed mole, all freshly killed and whole.

The youngsters, which at first crouched silently, were in a very bitter frame of mind, so I carried them out by the wing tips—the only satisfactory way I found of handling such a brambly article—and later made them stand in the light for a photograph—a difficult matter, because they ran with all speed for the wood-pile as soon as released. Just as I thought I had them, after many attempts, one mistook the other for a foe, and, without preliminaries, went for him. However, the other one met the rush feet first and seized the attacking claws before they hit, practically holding down his brother by each foot while he glared into his face in comical fashion, and hissed for all he was worth. This holding hands continued with much comical shaking of heads, until both birds suddenly struck at each other somewhat as roosters do; then they held hands again until separated and put into a deep open-top box for safe-keeping. If left free, dogs, cats, or opossums would most likely have found them through the strong odor so noticeable about young birds of prey. The mice were, however, first cut into pieces and thrust down the apparently hungry birds’ throats, while each was held by his feet and neck.

Every night after that the youngsters were visited and fed by the devoted old ones, and always it was with mice of some kind or moles—principally meadow mice, house mice, white-footed mice, shrews and ground moles—as many as eight sometimes, as shown by the disgorged pellets or uneaten bodies.

The parents also scrupulously cleaned the old box each night. They lived in the hemlock wood across the narrow valley, but in what tree I could not discover. One would appear soon after sunset with some kind of mouse, and by eleven o’clock had apparently satisfied the youngsters’ hunger, for the rasping cries would usually cease and an occasional louder and clearer cry of the old birds pierce the darkness.

One fine morning found the youngsters gone. Day after day they had tried to jump out of the box, each time coming a little closer to the edge. After this they could be heard calling in the evenings, and sometimes until dawn. Always in the wood, they perched high up side by side or on nearby limbs, and lazily relied on their parents to keep up the good work of providing mice. On dark nights they called much longer than on moonlight nights, which convinced me that the hunting was more difficult then.

Occasionally a parent could be seen standing always very erect on the barn gable overlooking a truck-garden, but usually it would watch from a tree in the marshy meadows, now and then dropping to the ground and staying there a considerable time as if hunting on foot among the grass clumps, a method which, from the great agility of the young when pursued on the ground and in the brush piles, I can well imagine no cat could improve on.

I tried without success to draw them by imitating their strange cry, and also a mouse’s squeak made by sucking loudly on the back of the hand. A Screech Owl and many wild animals would take instant notice of the latter, but not the Barn Owls. Even a rat caught in a trap failed to entice these birds, though several Screech Owls responded at once.

But who has stirred a Barn Owl? Over the dew-laden meadows he stands guard, or perhaps at the edge of the moonlit corn-fields, waiting for the only prey that seems to interest him. He knows the country like a book, the runways of the meadow mouse, the house mouse’s path from corn shock to corn shock, the mole’s early morning starting point.

Under the old buttonball tree the broods of young chickens ran from early morning to night. The owner felt that the large Owls were a menace to his flock and watched for them with a gun. But, with the fall of the old tree and a study of their food, a new light has spread to every farm in that vicinity.

I heard the young Owl’s last ‘rasp’ on October 16; it was full of the weird power which thrills one in the dark hours. A few minutes later, a big bird flew low toward the orchard—the young Owls had taken to hunting at last.

The Migration of North American Birds

Compiled by Prof. W. W. Cooke, Chiefly from Data in the Biological Survey

With a drawing by Louis Agassiz Fuertes

(See [Frontispiece])

THE BUSH-TIT

All of the forms of Bush-Tits in the United States are non-migratory. The present species, which is better known by the name of the Least Bush-Tit, is confined to the Pacific Coast, where it ranges from northern Lower California to southern British Columbia. This is the range of the typical form (Psaltriparus minimus minimus), while a subspecies called the California Bush-Tit (Psaltriparus minimus californicus) occurs over much of eastern California east of the Sacramento Valley, from the southern end of the Sierras nearly to the Oregon line. A third form, or subspecies, the Grinda Bush-Tit (Psaltriparus minimus grindæ), is confined to the southern end of Lower California.

THE LEAD-COLORED BUSH-TIT

The southern boundary of the range of the Lead-colored Bush-Tit (Psaltriparus plumbeus) is found in western Texas, northern Mexico, southeastern to northwestern Arizona, and the Providence Mountains, California. Thence it occurs north to central and northwestern Colorado, northern Utah and northwestern Nevada. A few individuals have been noted in southwestern Wyoming and southeastern Oregon.

LLOYD’S BUSH-TIT

Scarcely coming across the boundary from its real home in northern Mexico, the Lloyd Bush-Tit (Psaltriparus melanotis lloydi) occurs in the southern part of the mountains of western Texas and barely crosses the line in southwestern New Mexico.

THE VERDIN

Confined to the borderland of the southwestern United States, the Verdin in its typical form (Auriparus flaviceps flaviceps) is one of the most interesting birds of the desert and semi-arid districts, and is non-migratory. It ranges north to southeastern California, southern Nevada, northwestern Arizona (and extreme southwestern Utah), southwestern and southeastern New Mexico, western and southern Texas, and south into northern Mexico and the northern half of Lower California. The southern half of Lower California is occupied by a subspecies called the Cape Verdin (Auriparus flaviceps lamprocephalus).

THE WREN-TIT

The known ranges of the various forms, or subspecies of the Wren-Tit are given in the following paper. All the forms are non-migratory.

Notes on the Plumage of North American Birds

THIRTY-SEVENTH PAPER

By FRANK M. CHAPMAN

(See [Frontispiece])

Bush-Tit (Psaltriparus minimus and races. Fig. 1). The Bush-Tits of this group may be known by their brownish crown. The male and female are alike in color; the young bird closely resembles them but has the crown somewhat darker, and the winter plumage differs from that worn in summer only in being slightly deeper in tone. Three races of this species are known: The Bush-Tit (P. m. minimus) of the Pacific coast from northern Lower California to Washington, in which the crown is sooty brown; the California Bush-Tit (P. m. californicus), which occupies the interior of California and Oregon, and has the crown much brighter than in the coast form; and Grinda’s Bush-Tit (P. m. grindæ), a form of the Cape Region of Lower California with a grayer back.

Lead-colored Bush-Tit (Psaltriparus plumbeus. Fig. 2). The gray crown, of the same color as the back distinguishes this species from the Bush-Tits living west of the Sierras. The male and the female are alike in color; the young is essentially like them, but has less brownish on the sides of the head, and there are no seasonal changes in color.

Lloyd’s Bush-Tit (Psaltriparus melanotis lloydi. Figs. 3, 4). Lloyd’s Bush-Tit is a northern form of the Black-eared Bush-Tit of the Mexican tableland. Occurring over our border only in western Texas, southern New Mexico, and southern Arizona, it is rarely observed by the field ornithologist. The adult male may always be known by its black cheeks; and when the female has any black on the sides of the head (as in Fig. 4), no difficulty is experienced in identifying her. But immature males and often some apparently adult females are without black, and they then so closely resemble the Lead-colored Bush-Tit that it is impossible to distinguish them by color alone.

Verdin (Auriparus flaviceps. Fig. 5). When it leaves the nest, the young Verdin is a gray bird with no yellow on its head or chestnut on its wing-coverts, but at the postjuvenal molt both yellow head and chestnut patch are acquired, and the bird, now in its first winter plumage, cannot be distinguished from its parents. These closely resemble each other, but the female sometimes has less yellow on the head. After the colors of maturity are acquired, they are retained, and thereafter there is essentially no change in the Verdin’s appearance throughout the year.

There are but two races of the Verdin. One (A. f. flaviceps) occupies our Mexican border from coast to coast. The other, the Cape Verdin (A. f. lamprocephalus), a smaller bird with a brighter yellow head, is found only in the Cape Region of Lower California.

Wren-Tit (Chamæa fasciata. Fig. 6). The Wren-Tit enjoys the distinction of being the only species in the only family of birds peculiar to North America. It is restricted to the Pacific coast region from northern Lower California north to Oregon. While it presents practically no variation in color with age, sex, or season, it varies considerably with locality, four races of it being recognized. Since they are non-migratory, the purposes of field identification will best be served by outlining their distribution as it is given in Dr. Grinnell’s recent, authoritative ‘Distributional List of the Birds of California’ as follows:

Pallid Wren-Tit (Chamæa fasciata henshawi). Common resident of the Upper Sonoran Zone west of the deserts and Great Basin drainage from the Mexican line through the San Diegan district, northward coastwise to San Luis Obispo and San Benito counties, and interiorly along the western foothills of the Sierra Nevada to the lower McCloud River, in Shasta County; also along the inner northern coast ranges from Helena, Trinity County, and Scott River, Siskiyou County, south to Covelo, Mendocino County, and Vacaville, Solano County. The easternmost stations for this form are: vicinity of Walker Pass, Kern County, and Campo, San Diego County.

Intermediate Wren-Tit (Chamæa fasciata fasciata). Common resident of the coast region south of San Francisco Bay, from the Golden Gate to southern Monterey County; east to include the Berkeley hills and at least the west slopes of the Mount Hamilton range.

Ruddy Wren-Tit (Chamæa fasciata rufula). Common resident of the humid coast belt immediately north of San Francisco Bay, in Marin, Sonoma, and Mendocino counties. Northernmost station for this form: Mendocino City.

Coast Wren-Tit (Chamæa fasciata phæa). Fairly common resident locally in the extreme northern humid coast belt. Humboldt and Del Norte Counties.

A Correction

Through a typographical error the Tree Sparrow was included in the Census of Mrs. Herbert R. Mills of Tampa, Florida, published in the January-February, 1916, issue of Bird-Lore. The record should have read Tree Swallow.—Editor.

Hints for Bird Clubs

The greatest problem with most of our bird clubs seems to be: What can we do to make our meetings interesting, so that all the members, especially the younger ones, will be anxious to come?

In planning for parties, picnics, or other entertainments of that sort, we usually expect to have everyone present take a part in whatever games or sports there are, and, no matter how often we have them, there is never any question but that all who can do so will be there. I believe that bird-club meetings can be made equally attractive if we go about them in the same way, rather than to plan some sort of entertainment where only a few are to have a part, as is usually the case.

There is almost no limit to the number of interesting and instructive things we can do, and it will be possible for even the more advanced bird students to learn something new at nearly every meeting.

Every member should have a notebook for keeping a record of the birds seen and identified, with any new or interesting things observed, for comparison with others at each meeting; and each member should have a standing in the club according to the number of birds identified and the amount of work done for the birds. This will be an inducement for each member to do something or learn something new before the next meeting, and to be present at all the meetings, to learn what others have done. It will also be found helpful in learning about birds and in remembering what is seen; for, unless we have some special reason for noting carefully all that may be seen on our walks, even the most interested observers will miss many things, and will forget much of what they did see.

When about to start on a walk of about three miles, one bright pleasant morning last June, I decided to keep a list of all the birds seen and heard from the time I started until I returned. The walk was finished between twelve and one o’clock, when most of the birds were quiet and few were seen; yet I saw 105 birds on the trip, and had a good idea of the number and variety of birds one might see at this time of the year. If I had kept no record of the number, I could not have told how many I was likely to see, or which species would be seen oftenest. All such things will prove interesting at the meetings, and will add largely to our knowledge of birds in the course of a year.

In winter, we should note the feeding habits of the different birds and the number and kinds of winter visitors seen; it is also a good time to make a study of nests, where they are placed, and the material used in each.

In summer, there will be something for every day if we have our eyes open; nesting habits, bird-baths, and occasionally some rare migrant to tell about. It would be impossible to give a complete list of the interesting things to be seen at this time.

Every club should own a few good reference books, and have them at their meetings, to settle any questions that may arise. The ‘Color Key to North American Birds,’ by Chapman, will be found useful for identification, ‘Wild Bird Guests,’ by Baynes, for matters pertaining to bird clubs and bird protection, also ‘Useful Birds and their Protection,’ by Forbush.

There are many others that would prove beneficial, but these three are almost indispensable, if we would learn the ways of our wild bird friends and what we can do to help them.

It is understood that every family of bird lovers will be subscribers to Bird-Lore, for few would be willing to miss the interesting bits of information to be found in every number of this bird magazine.

Selections from Bird-Lore, the Audubon Leaflets, books on Nature by standard authors, and occasionally articles from some of the popular magazines, might be read at each meeting. This will prove a very interesting part of the program, and there will always be material enough to fill out any schedule.

Good plates of birds like those obtained with the Audubon Leaflets and the set published with the ‘Birds of New York’ will help in identifications, and, as the cost is very small, every club should have at least one set of each.

If we can get our clubs once started along these lines, it seems possible that it might become more of a problem to find time for everything than to find something to do.

One year’s course in a bird club of this kind should give every member a fairly good knowledge of what we can do for the birds, and what they are doing for us.—W. M. Buswell, Superintendent Meriden, (N. H.) Bird Club.

Ornithological Possibilities of a Bit of Swamp-Land

For several years, I have had a bit of swamp-land under my eye, especially during the cooler months. It is not exactly a beauty-spot, being bordered by ragged backyards, city dumps, a small tannery, and a dismantled factory, formerly used by a company engaged in cleaning hair for plasterers’ use.

A part of the surface is covered by cat-tails, the rest by a mixed growth of water-loving shrubs, as sweet-gale, leather-leaf, andromeda, and other shrubs which like to dabble their roots in ooze. A brook, connecting two large ponds, runs through the swamp, giving current and temperature enough to make certain a large amount of open water, even in the coldest weather.

A little colony of Wilson’s Snipe have made this swamp their winter home for at least fifteen years, and probably much longer. Song, and generally Swamp Sparrows can be found here all winter. This winter, we have a Green-winged Teal, finding feed enough to induce her to remain; and over beside the cat-tails, about some fallen willows, a Winter Wren seems much at home.

During recent years, a sort of beach, made by dumping gravel to cover refuse from the hair factory, has been a favored feeding place for various Sandpipers, as well as the Snipe. The last of the Sandpipers leave in November, while the Snipe remain.

Bitterns and Black-crowned Night Herons drop in during the fall and summer, and our increasing Ring-neck Pheasant, the gunner’s pet, loves to skulk around the edges.

Tree Sparrows, Goldfinches, and their kin attract an occasional Butcherbird and the smaller Hawks, Pigeon, Sparrow, and Sharp-shin in season.

Early spring brings a host of Blackbirds, Redwings, Bronzed Grackles, and Rusties; while a Cowbird hung about with some English Sparrows, until Thanksgiving time, this year.

We are always on the lookout for something new to turn up in the swamp, and are seldom disappointed. For so small a place, not over five acres, it surely is a bird haven; especially does it seem so when, but a few rods away on the nearby ponds, the ice-men are harvesting twelve-inch ice. Naturally, local bird-lovers are praying that the hand of “improvement” will be stayed a long time in wiping out this neglected little nook.—Arthur P. Stubbs, Lynn, Mass.

My Neighbor’s Sparrow Trap

My neighbor one block to the north, Professor E. R. Ristine, who gives me leave to use his name in the present connection, finally lost his patience with English Sparrows (Passer domesticus), on or about May 15, 1915. The fact that an elderly person sharing the home with his family could not sleep at reasonable hours on account of Sparrow chatter was an element in the decision to which he soon came. For into his hands fell an advertisement of a Sparrow trap, just such a two-funnel wire affair as was described and recommended as early as 1912 by the Department of Agriculture in Farmers’ Bulletin 493. On May 20, 1915, the trap arrived, and was duly installed and baited. It was at first placed on the ground in the small chicken-yard at the rear of the house, and the outer funnel was baited with a small amount of cracked grain, the finer “chick-feed” proving to be most efficacious. The location of the trap was changed at different times during the spring, summer, and fall, and the total results on the Sparrow population were satisfactory beyond expectations.

By June 11, only twenty-two days after the trap was set out, 78 Sparrows had passed the fatal inner funnel of that simple contrivance, and at this, fortunately for the accurate details of the present account, my neighbor’s interest was aroused to know precisely what the powers of his most recent purchase might really be. With a pencil he marked thereafter on the siding of his hen-house the mortuary record: 6/13—84, 6/17—100, 7/9—202, and so forth. That is to say, a total of 202 birds had been gathered in by July 9, fifty days after the trap was put into action, or an average of a little more than four per day. This rate of destruction was much increased during the following month, the 300 mark being passed on July 27, and the 400 mark on August 11. The rate of capture then declined, and it was not until September 18 that the figure 508 was registered. The trap remained set until December 5, at which time the deadly record stood at 597. A few dozens more had entered the trap but escaped through the insufficient latching of the “clean-out” door. After December 5 heavy snows fell, followed by sleet storms, and my neighbor temporarily placed his trap out of service on a back porch.

A few facts in connection with the above record will prove of interest. The heaviest catches were made when the currants became very ripe and the trap was placed under the laden bushes. Fewest Sparrows were caught when the sweet corn in the garden was in the milk stage, the birds preferring the contents of the juicy kernels to the dry grain with which the trap was baited. The largest catch on any one day was 20 birds, this number being reached on two different dates, June 27 and August 4. The Sparrows seemed to arrive in flocks of greater or less size, and the record would mount rapidly until these were gathered in. Then, for several days possibly, no birds at all would be trapped. And the fine feature of the entire season’s experience was that this trap caught English Sparrows and no other bird whatsoever. The only exception to English Sparrows was a single hoary old house rat that had evidently followed a Sparrow in; at any rate, the latter was found partially devoured.

Relief from the Sparrow nuisance began to come to our neighborhood about the middle of August, after full 400 of the noisy chatterers had fallen victim to the innocent-looking wire cage. And by the time the Indian summer days of October came, the English Sparrow tribe in our part of town had dropped from the status of “abundant” to only “fairly common.” Indeed, I have not seen more than six individuals together in our end of the little city at any time in the last three months.

Is it possible that my neighbor’s experience was out of the ordinary? I do not see why it should be, but I have found a similar record only in the above-mentioned Farmers’ Bulletin, where the capture of 300 Sparrows in six weeks in the Missouri Botanical Gardens, St. Louis, is noted. If it is at all typical of what may be accomplished, then one or two things seem clear. An easy method is at hand for holding in check the Sparrow nuisance and more attention should be given to Farmers’ Bulletin 493 than seems thus far to have been accorded this worthy publication.—Charles R. Keyes, Mt. Vernon, Iowa.

A Tropical Migration Tragedy

[We are indebted to Prof. M. H. Saville for a copy of ‘El Comercio’ for October 18, 1915, a newspaper published at San Pedro Sula, Honduras, which contains the following account of a migration tragedy.—Editor.]

“At midnight, on October 10, 1915, there commenced to appear groups of birds flying in a southerly direction. At the time darkness set in, we began to hear the call of a great number of birds that were circling constantly over the city. This avian invasion increased considerably during the night. The main part of the army of invasion crossing the Gulf of Honduras arrived in the evening off the coast of Puerto Cortes. These birds do not travel by day, but follow the eastern shore, guided by certain groups that, toward night, exhausted, ceasing their flight, turn inland. The bright rays from the electric lights projected high in among the clouds, serving to indicate the position of San Pedro Sula and, attracted by its splendor, the bird emigrants, greatly fatigued by their vigorous exercise in the long flight against contrary winds in their travel across the Gulf of Mexico (approximately 700 miles), their short stay in Yucatan, and their flight across the Gulf of Honduras, the greater part of them fell one upon another in their revolutions about the lights, some dropping half-crazed against the roofs and fences, breaking wings and legs, some dying outright.

“At two o’clock in the morning, the greater part of the expedition directed toward this zone had arrived in the neighborhood of the city. It was at that time that the sound of their striking against the posts and the electric wires was a continual tattoo. It seemed almost as though the stones in the streets had been awakened, and were being hurled against the inhabitants. Numbers of birds striking against the zinc roofs gave off a sound like hurrying footsteps, the drumming on the zinc extending over the entire city. At one spot within a radius of two yards there fell dying six wounded birds. In the morning the streets were strewn with bodies; the greater part of them dead, others wounded.”

A Shower of Birds

In the fall of 1915, a violent wind-storm passed through the southern states, just grazing the edge of Spartanburg, in upper South Carolina. Here the minister of the First Presbyterian Church was about to take shelter in his home, from the fury of the wind, when he saw what appeared to be a small, black cloud swoop down upon his roof and disappear. He hastened in, and found, to his and his family’s dismay, that little black birds were fairly pouring down one of the chimneys.

The birds seemed to have been stunned by the force of the gale to which they had been exposed, and the floor was soon covered, several inches deep, with their inanimate bodies. They were picked up by the bucketful, and thrown out, but soon revived and flew away, none the worse, apparently, for their unusual experience. Two little fellows who were overlooked took refuge on a curtain pole, where they were discovered by a little girl, several hours later.

This is probably the only time on record when it literally rained birds. The birds were common Chimney Swifts.—R. L. Fripp, Spartanburg, S. C.

A Heron’s Involuntary Bath

Some of the little comedies of bird life are amusing to the onlooker, although, like those happening to human beings, not always so pleasant to the individuals participating. A neighbor of mine where I live on the shores of an island in the Great South Bay, took up his dock for the winter season and left a stake in the water. It is beneath the surface except at low tide when it projects an inch or two above. At dusk on the evening of October 23, 1915, two Black-crowned Night Herons came winging along. The one in the lead, happening to spy the top of the nearly submerged stake, immediately dropped down and appropriated it for a temporary fishing-station. Its mate, probably trusting it had landed in very shallow water, dropped down also beside it. But it kept on going down until only its head and shoulders protruded. It was a surprised bird, and stood there a few minutes in its awkward predicament, looking around as if vainly trying to grasp the situation. Then, finally giving it up, it managed to spring out and fly off.—John R. Tooker, Babylon, Long Island.

Winter Notes from Carlisle, Ind.

We are having a very mild winter, with heavy rains. During last week it has been warm, and numerous Robins have been here. There is a twenty-acre alfalfa field adjoining town, and some eight acres of it was mown only once and the other crop left on the ground. This makes a regular haven for the Meadow Larks, and during the past week they have been having a regular carnival. You can hear dozens of them singing at a time. There must be hundreds of them in this field. Song Sparrows have also been singing.—J. H. Gilliland, Carlisle, Ind.

Notes from Nebraska

What is the most abundant bird in a given locality? This a question often conjectured upon by both ornithologists and casual observers. The terms “abundant,” “common,” “scarce,” or “very scarce,” form poor records of actual abundance, as suggested in recent issues of Bird-Lore. So, to get data on actual abundance, I took weekly bird censuses during the months of May, June, July, and a part of August, 1915, making counts of both number of species and number of individuals.

Of eight such censuses, taken during June, July, and August, in northeastern Kansas and southeastern Nebraska, Dickcissels proved to be the most abundant in six, if the exception is made of English Sparrows, which led in numbers in two censuses. This, I should say, would be the case over a large part of the middle West, of which the above-mentioned vicinities are typical.

Here are my figures on the Dickcissel:

*June 5. Sabetha, Kan., 99 individuals noted in 4¾ hours afield.