The Auk
A Quarterly Journal of Ornithology

Vol. XXXVIAPRIL, 1919No. 2

PUBLISHED BY

The American Ornithologists’ Union

CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

Entered as second-class mail matter in the Post Office at Boston, Mass.
“Acceptance for mailing at special rate of postage provided for in
Section 1103, Act of October 3, 1917, authorized on September 23, 1918.”

CONTENTS

‘THE AUK,’ published quarterly as the Organ of the American Ornithologists’ Union, is edited, beginning with volume for 1912, by Dr. Witmer Stone.

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Plate VII.

Olive Thorne Miller

THE AUK:

A QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF

ORNITHOLOGY.

Vol. XXXVIAPRIL, 1919No. 2

MRS. OLIVE THORNE MILLER.

BY FLORENCE MERRIAM BAILEY.

[Plate VII.]

Little more than a month after the last meeting of the A. O. U., at which greetings were sent from the Council to Mrs. Miller as the oldest living member of the Union, came the announcement of her death, on December 26, 1918. Born on June 25, 1831, she had indeed been allotted a full span, and for thirty-one of her eighty-seven years she had been associated with the American Ornithologists’ Union joining four years after it was founded and being made Member in 1901 when that class was established.

Harriet Mann—for the more familiar name of Olive Thorne Miller was the pen name adopted after her marriage—was born at Auburn, New York, where her father, Seth Hunt, was a banker; but she was of New England ancestry on both sides of the family, her paternal grandfather being an importing merchant of Boston, and her great-grandfather, Captain Benjamin Mann, having organized a company during the revolution of which he was in command at Bunker Hill.

From Auburn the family moved to Ohio when she was eleven years old, making the journey, in lieu of railroads, by “packet” on the canal through the Mohawk Valley, by steamer across Lake Erie, and finally by an old-fashioned thoroughbrace coach for twenty-five miles through Ohio—a journey full of romance to an imaginative child, and described entertainingly in one of Mrs. Miller’s delightful and in this case largely autobiographical child stories, ‘What Happened to Barbara.’ In Ohio she spent five years in a small college town where she attended private schools, among them one of the Select Schools of that generation, with an enrollment of some forty or fifty girls. At the age of nine, as she says, she “grappled with the problems of Watts on the Mind!” To offset the dreariness of such work, she and half a dozen of her intimate friends formed a secret society for writing stories, two members of the circle afterwards becoming well known writers. For writing and reading even then were her greatest pleasures. The strongest influence in her young life, she tells us, was from books. “Loving them above everything, adoring the very odor of a freshly printed volume, and regarding a library as nearest heaven of any spot on earth, she devoured everything she could lay her hands upon.” As she grew older the shyness from which she had always suffered increased painfully, and coupled with a morbid sensitiveness as to what she considered her personal defects made people a terror to her; but solitary and reticent, she had the writer’s passion for self expression and it is easy to understand her when she says, “To shut myself up where no one could see me, and speak with my pen, was my greatest happiness.”

In 1854, she married Watts Todd Miller, like herself a member of a well known family of northern New York, and in her conscientious effort to be a model wife and to master domestic arts to which she had never been trained, she sacrificed herself unnecessarily. “Many years I denied myself the joy of my life—the use of my pen,” she tells us, “and it was not until my children were well out of the nursery that I grew wise enough to return to it.”

The history of the vicissitudes of her literary life is at once touching and enlightening. Full of ardor to reform the world, to prevent needless unhappiness and to set people on the right path, her first literary attempt was the essay, but as she expressed it, “the editorial world did not seem to be suffering for any effusions of mine,” and her manuscripts were so systematically returned that she was about giving up, concluding during very black days that she had mistaken her calling; when a practical friend gave her a new point of view. What did the public care for the opinions of an unknown writer? she asked. Let her give what it wanted—attractively put information on matters of fact. Then when her reputation was established, people might be glad to listen to her views of life.

Philosophically accepting the suggestion, she calmly burned up her accumulated “sentiments and opinions,” and set about writing what she termed “sugar-coated pills of knowledge” for children. The first, the facts of china-making in the guise of a story, she sent to a religious weekly which had a children’s page, and to her surprise and delight received a check for it—her first—two dollars! This was apparently in 1870, and for twelve years, she worked in what she terms that “Gradgrind field” in which during that period she published some three hundred and seventy-five articles in religious weeklies, ‘Our Young Folks,’ ‘The Youth’s Companion,’ ‘The Independent,’ ‘St. Nicholas,’ ‘The Chicago Tribune,’ ‘Harper’s,’ ‘Scribner’s,’ and other papers and magazines, on subjects ranging from the manufacture of various familiar articles, as needles, thread, and china to sea cucumbers, spiders, monkeys, and oyster farms; and during those twelve years, in addition she published five books, the best known of which were perhaps ‘Little Folks in Feathers and Fur,’ 1873, ‘Queer Pets at Marcy’s,’ 1880, and ‘Little People of Asia,’ 1882.

About this time, having lived in Chicago nearly twenty years, the Millers, with their two sons and two daughters, moved to Brooklyn, where they lived until Mr. Miller’s death. Not long after settling in Brooklyn, when she had spent twelve years mainly on miscellaneous juvenile work, Mrs. Miller was visited by a friend who gave her a new subject, completely changing the course of her life. The friend was none less than Mrs. Sara A. Hubbard, whom she had known as a book reviewer in Chicago, but who was also an enthusiastic bird woman—later an Associate of the A. O. U.—and whose greatest desire in coming to New York had been to see the birds.

As Mrs. Miller naïvely remarks, “of course I could do no less than to take her to our park, where were birds in plenty.” And here, in Prospect Park when she was nearly fifty years old—incredible as it seems in view of her later work—Mrs. Miller got her first introduction to birds. “I knew absolutely nothing about ornithology,” she confesses; “indeed, I knew by sight not more than two birds, the English Sparrow and the Robin, and I was not very sure of a Robin either! I must say in excuse for myself,” she adds, “that I had never spent any time in the country and had been absorbed all my life in books. My friend was an enthusiast, and I found her enthusiasm contagious. She taught me to know a few birds, a Vireo, the charming Catbird, and the beautiful Wood Thrush, and indeed before she left me I became so interested in the Catbird and Thrush that I continued to visit the park to see them, and after about two summers’ study the thought one day came to me that I had seen some things that other people might be interested in. I wrote what I had observed and sent an article to the ‘Atlantic Monthly’ and it was accepted with a very precious letter from Mr. Scudder, who was then editor. All this time my love of birds and my interest in them had been growing, and soon I cared for no other study. I set up a bird-room in my house to study them winters and I began to go to their country haunts in the summer.”

Of the bird-room described so interestingly in ‘Bird Ways’ it is only necessary to say that first and last Mrs. Miller had about thirty-five species of birds which she bought from the bird stores in winter and allowed to fly about in her bird room, where she could study them unobtrusively at her desk by means of skillfully arranged mirrors. For twenty summers, from 1883 to 1903, she spent from one to three months in the country studying the wild birds, visiting among other sections, Maine, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, New York, Ohio, North Carolina, Michigan, Colorado, Utah, and California, taking careful notes in the field and writing them up for publication at the end of the season. To one who has not known her, the method may sound deliberate and commercial, but to one who has worked joyfully by her side, each year’s journey is known to have meant escape from the world, to the ministering beneficence of Nature. Let her speak for herself.—“To a brain wearied by the din of the city ... how refreshing is the heavenly stillness of the country! To the soul tortured by the sights of ills it cannot cure, wrongs it cannot right, and sufferings it cannot relieve, how blessed to be alone with nature, with trees living free, unfettered lives, and flowers content each in its native spot, with brooks singing of joy and good cheer, with mountains preaching divine peace and rest!”[1] Freed from city life and the tortures imposed by her profound human sympathy, each gift of fancy and imagination, each rare quality of spirit, joined in the celebration of the new excursion into fields elysian. But while each sight she saw was given glamour and charm by her imagination and enthusiasm, her New England conscience ruled her every word and note, and not one jot or tittle was let by, no word was set down, that could not pass muster before the bar of scientific truth.

Mrs. Miller’s first bird book was published in 1885 and the others followed in quick succession although they were interlarded with magazine articles and books on other subjects—as ‘The Woman’s Club,’ 1890, ‘Our Home Pets,’ 1894, ‘Four Handed Folk,’ 1896, and a series of children’s stories, 1904 to 1907. Her eleven bird books, published by the Houghton, Mifflin Company, were ‘Bird Ways,’ 1885, ‘In Nesting Time,’ 1887, ‘Little Brothers of the Air,’ 1892, ‘A Bird Lover in the West,’ 1894, ‘Upon the Tree Tops,’ 1897, ‘The First Book of Birds,’ 1899, ‘The Second Book of Birds,’ 1901, ‘True Bird Stories from my Note-Books,’ 1902, ‘With the Birds in Maine,’ 1903, ‘The Bird our Brother,’ 1908, and her last book, ‘The Children’s Book of Birds’—a juvenile form of the First and Second Book of Birds—1915.

The newspaper and magazine articles of this second period of Mrs. Miller’s literary work, beginning with the time when she first began to study birds, were published not only in the principal religious weeklies and others of the former channels, but by various syndicates, in ‘Harper’s Bazar,’ and the ‘Atlantic Monthly.’ They included not only a large number of bird papers, some of which appeared later in her books, but also articles on general subjects, proving her friend’s statement, for now that her reputation had become established on a basis of fact, the public was ready to profit by her “sentiments and opinions.”

Her last book of field notes—‘With the Birds in Maine’—was published in 1903, when she was seventy-two, after which time she was able to do very little active field work and her writing was confined mainly to children’s books.

In 1902 Mrs. Miller had visited her oldest son, Charles W. Miller, in California, and fascinated by the outdoor life and the birds and flowers of southern California, she would have returned to live, without delay, had it not been that her married daughter, Mrs. Smith, and her grandchildren lived in Brooklyn. In 1904, however, accompanied by her younger daughter, Mary Mann Miller, she did return to California, where her daughter built a cottage on the outskirts of Los Angeles on the edge of a bird-filled arroyo where rare fruits and flowers ran riot and the cottage—El Nido—became embowered in vines and trees.

From 1870-1915, as nearly as can be determined by her manuscript lists, Mrs. Miller published about seven hundred and eighty articles, one booklet on birds and twenty-four books—eleven of them on birds, her books being published mainly by the Houghton Mifflin Company and E. P. Dutton. When we stop to consider that her real work did not begin until she was fifty-four, after which four hundred and five of her articles and nineteen of her books were written, and moreover that during her later years, by remarkable self-conquest, she became a lecturer and devoted much of her time to lecturing on birds in New York, Brooklyn, Philadelphia, and other towns, we come to a realization of her tireless industry and her astonishing accomplishment.

When living in Brooklyn she was a member of some of the leading women’s clubs of New York and Brooklyn, giving her time to them with the earnest purpose that underlay all her work. In the midst of her busy life, it is good to recall as an example of her devotion to her friends, that for years Mrs. Miller gave up one day a week to visiting an old friend who had been crippled by an accident; and after she had gone to California took time to make for her a calendar of three hundred and sixty-five personally selected quotations from the best in literature.

Among Mrs. Miller’s pleasures during her later years in the East were the meetings of the Linnæan Society held in the American Museum of Natural History in New York, and the A. O. U. meetings which she attended in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington, enjoying not only the papers of other workers, but the rare opportunity to meet those interested in her beloved work. In a letter written after one of the meetings she exclaimed—“You don’t know what a good time we have always. We had a real ‘love feast’ this time. Not only all the old standbys—Mr. Brewster, Mr. Sage, Dr. Allen, Dr. Merriam and the rest, but a lot of Audubonites and John Burroughs. I went over and stayed with Mrs. May Riley Smith and attended every session.” In this same letter she speaks of her promotion to the new class of membership and says, “It is a great pleasure to have honest work recognized, and encourages one to keep at it.”

When Mr. Brewster, in view of a discovery made by Mrs. Miller, wrote in ‘The Auk,’ regretting that one “gifted with rare powers of observation” should not record at least the more important of her discoveries in a scientific journal, Mrs. Miller replied in another note to ‘The Auk,’ confessing that she would not know what was a discovery; adding with the enthusiasm that vitalized her work—“to me everything is a discovery; each bird, on first sight, is a new creation; his manners and habits are a revelation, as fresh and as interesting to me as though they had never been observed before.” Explaining her choice of a literary rather than a scientific channel of expression, she gives the key to her nature work, one of the underlying principles of all her work—“my great desire is to bring into the lives of others the delights to be found in the study of Nature.”

Looking over the bookshelf where the names of Burroughs, Torrey, Miller, and Bolles call up each its own rare associations, I am reminded of a bit of advice that came long years ago from Mr. Burroughs’ kindly pen—“Put your bird in its landscape”—as this seems the secret of the richness and charm of this rare company of writers, for while beguiling us with the story of the bird, they have set it in its landscape, they have brought home to us “the river and sky,” they have enabled us to see Nature in its entirety.

Remembering this great boon which we owe Mrs. Miller, it seems rarely fitting that when her three score years and ten were accomplished, her last days should have been spent in the sunshine surrounded by the birds and flowers which brought her happiness in beautiful California.

AN EXPERIENCE WITH HORNED GREBES
(COLYMBUS AURITUS).

BY ALEXANDER D. DUBOIS.

Plates VIII-X

The southeastern portion of Teton County, Montana, lying in the prairie region east of the Rocky Mountains, comprises flat and rolling bench-lands, traversed at frequent intervals by coulees which are tributary to the Teton and Sun Rivers. On these benches are occasional shallow depressions which have no natural drainage. They form transient “prairie sloughs” which may be dry at one season and wet meadows or ponds of water at another.

The slough which afforded the present observations is a crescent-shaped depression, not more than ten or twelve acres in extent, curving about a knoll upon which stands a homesteader’s cabin. There are no lakes or water courses in the immediate vicinity. During the last few years the region has been rapidly transformed into grain farms. At the time these notes were made the meadow in question was bordered on three sides by plowed fields. The spring of 1917 was an extremely rainy one, following a winter of much more than normal snowfall. In consequence, the crescent-shaped meadow became a marshy sheet of water.

On the open water of this pond two Grebes were seen on several days in May. On the third of June, while walking around the pond scanning its surface with a field-glass, I was suddenly amazed to see a Grebe sitting upon a nest which protruded above the water amid the scant vegetation. Careful examination showed the bird to be Colymbus auritus. She slipped from the nest, as I slowly waded toward her, and swam about in the open water, anxiously watching my every movement. The interest was mutual. After watching the bird for some time I went up to the nest and found that it contained two eggs. Subsequent visits showed that the eggs were deposited at intervals of two days; the dates of the visits and number of eggs found at each visit being as follows: June 3 (2); June 5 (3); June 7 (4); June 9 (5); June 12 (6); June 13 (6).

Plate VIII.

1.

Nesting Site of Horned Grebe in a Flooded Meadow.
Nest beyond Open Water. Wheat Stubble in Foreground.

2.

Horned Grebe on her Nest, showing Scant Surrounding Vegetation.

Whenever I appeared at the edge of the slough, it was the custom of the two Grebes to float about upon the area of open water with an air of supreme unconcern. They busied themselves constantly with their toilets, preening the feathers of all parts of their bodies and very frequently tipping or rolling themselves in the water to reach their under parts with their bills. In this half-capsized posture they would float for several seconds, exposing to view the strikingly prominent white area that is normally below the water-line. This preening and floating in different positions, on the part of both birds, proceeded without interruption during my entire stay, each day that I visited them. It became very evident that it was practiced as a ruse to hold the attention of the intruder and thus divert him from their nest.

On the morning of June 12, a camera was taken to the nest-site with the purpose of making photographs of the nest and eggs. On the land to the south, a homesteader with eight horses to his plow, was turning over the virgin sod. His furrows ended at the edge of the slough southwest from the nesting site of the Grebes. Upon wading to the nest I found the six eggs shielded on the southwest side, by a partial covering of vegetation which had been pulled up on that side only. The general character of the country and location of the nest are shown in the photograph on [Plate VIII]. After making a photograph, and remaining for a time near the nest to observe the parent birds, I left the tripod and camera in position and went away. The female was continually gaining either confidence or bravery and had been swimming about in an agitated manner, not far from me, as I stood quietly by the camera. Before I had gotten out of sight of the nest I saw her go to it and change the covering or shielding material to its opposite edge, thus sheltering the eggs from the too inquisitive gaze of the camera’s eye. When I returned from the cabin the bird was on the nest, incubating. She took to the water as I came up, but continued to swim back and forth among the scant, neighboring tufts of marsh grass. As I stood very quietly for some time behind the camera her boldness gradually increased, until at length I was able to photograph her near the nest, with the aid of only ten feet of rubber tubing attached to the shutter release. The making of these photographs consumed much time and continually the Grebe was growing bolder. She swam almost under the camera, and when I came close to the nest she made a dash at me, shooting entirely out of the water. This show of force was afterward repeated frequently, and it sometimes ended with a violent, splashing dive which sent a shower of spray over the camera outfit and the photographer. Meanwhile her spouse drifted quietly at a safe and respectful distance. Although one photograph of the bird on her nest was secured by means of a very long thread, the result was rather unsatisfactory.

On the following day, June 13, I donned the hip boots again and stationed myself with the camera outfit, determined to see if patience would be rewarded by an opportunity to photograph the bird on her nest at close range. It was a wearisome experiment, but not without result, for eventually the Grebes became remarkably bold. The female was the first to approach. She swam around the nest repeatedly, but for a long time refused to venture upon it. For the most part the male witnessed her adventures from a discreet distance. Occasionally however, he came up; and finally, while the female was showing her agitation by swimming hurriedly about, the male swam deliberately to the nest, climbed up its side, and sat on the eggs, facing me. A plate was exposed on this unexpected sitter but unfortunately was ruined by an accident before development. He became alarmed by my activities in changing plate-holders, or perhaps by the removal of my head from beneath the focusing cloth, and suddenly slipped off the nest into the water. Both birds were subsequently photographed together, near the nest.

I cautiously moved the camera somewhat closer and waited. The female frequently shot out of the water at me with a rush accompanied by a harsh cry, and sometimes ended her attack with a dive and a great splash. Eventually she went upon the nest, and once in contact with her eggs, she became invincible. I photographed her thus; then moved the tripod toward her, slowly and cautiously, keeping my head beneath the cloth. In this way the camera was placed within arm’s length of the bird and another exposure made, which resulted in the intimate portrait of [Plate X, fig. 1]. I uncovered my head, but she remained firm, and when I extended my hand toward her she reached out her long neck and delivered a vicious, stinging stab with her sharp bill. The threatening attitude of the bird, just previous to striking, is shown in [Plate X, fig. 2].

The exposed situation of this nest is shown in several of the photographs. It consisted of a mass of coarse grasses, many of them fresh and green, floating in about a foot of water, the body of the nest below the water line being of such bulk as to almost touch the muddy bottom. The nest-lining, in the bottom of the well hollowed cavity, was very wet and soggy, being only slightly above the water surface when the nest was unoccupied, and probably below it when the weight of the bird was added to that of the nest. This lining was composed of decaying vegetation which was decidedly warm to the touch, in the sunshine, while the wet rim of the nest was cold.

The eggs of this set were taken. They were of course in various stages of incubation, from fresh in the last, to well begun in the first-laid egg. For some time after I had left the empty nest, taking the camera with me, the two Grebes swam to and fro beside it, or circled around it, frequently going to the nest and climbing part way up. Occasionally one of the birds, presumably the female, sat upon the nest for a brief period, shifting herself in a restless manner, and then returned to the water.

For several days I stayed away. Would these birds nest again in this small and rapidly diminishing slough at so late a season? Would they leave the slough and go elsewhere to nest? Or would they abandon the duty of reproduction altogether? These questions seemed of sufficient interest to demand further observations, but not wishing to further inject the factor of the human menace into their already complicated affairs, I left the birds entirely to themselves. Meanwhile extremely dry warm weather was causing rapid evaporation and the slough was shrinking very perceptibly.

My next visit, on the eighteenth of June, disclosed the fact that the Grebes were not only present but were building a new nest not far from the old one. The nest seemed nearly completed. The two birds were floating near each other on the open water, preening their plumage in the ostentatious manner previously described.

At seven-thirty on the morning of June 21, the new nest contained two eggs, partially covered, especially on the northwest side, which was the direction from which I approached the slough. There was a striking difference in the coloring of the two eggs, in view of the slight difference in their ages. One egg was a drab-tinted cream; the other a beautiful greenish tint with a freshness and delicacy which is difficult to describe, and which marked it as having just been deposited by the bird. A schedule of the subsequent visits to this nest is given in the accompanying table:

Plate IX.

1.

A Pair of Horned Grebes at Home. Female at Right.

2.

Nest and Eggs of Horned Grebe.

When I approached on the morning of June 24, the Grebe was on her nest. She made herself as inconspicuous as possible by holding her head down, close to the nest rim. As I came within twenty-five or thirty yards of the nest the bird hastily pulled a covering of green-stuff over the eggs and slid silently into the water, disappearing completely. Although I watched for some time I did not succeed in catching even a glimpse of either of the birds.

On the occasion of the sixth visit (June 26) I found the nest lightly covered with fresh green stems and blades which had been plucked by the bird. At that time I made the notation in my field book: “Never see the birds on the open water any more.” However, on the next day, some time after I had left the nest, I did see one of the Grebes floating on the open water. The eggs had again been covered with fresh vegetation.

On the morning of June 27, I approached by a circuitous route, passing by the nest with my interest ostensibly concentrated elsewhere. But as I passed too near her the bird slipped quickly off the nest without stopping to cover the eggs; and I could not find her afterward. It will be noted from the tabulated schedule that neither of the birds was seen at the tenth, eleventh, or twelfth visits. The thirteenth visit was more successful for I saw a Grebe sitting perfectly motionless, at the edge of a water-lane which traversed some of the thickest vegetation, its bright red eyes appearing as its only conspicuous feature. The next day (fourteenth visit), I could not find the birds, and the fifteenth visit gave me only a fleeting glimpse of a Grebe. The eggs were not covered but were slightly shielded on the side from which I had come. On the evening of July 12, one of the birds was observed floating, silent and solemn, with head toward me, at the farthest side of the open water. It was evident at this time that the birds had changed their dress since my acquaintance with them at their first nest, for no yellow “horns” were now visible.

On July 13, finding only four eggs in the nest, and pieces of egg shell both there and in the water, I searched carefully in the vicinity of the nest but without result. I could neither find the newly hatched young nor catch any glimpse of either parent. On the next day the conditions were the same except that the eggs were slightly covered and a few small feathers had been left on the nest, showing that the bird had been upon it.

The twentieth visit, on the evening of July 15, gave me an opportunity to examine the bird at close range. She was on the nest and allowed me to approach, cautiously, to a point twenty or thirty feet from her. She was considerably changed in appearance. The yellowish-white tip of the bill remained unaltered and the light line through the lower margin of the lore was observed to still persist, but the plumage of the head was much subdued, the yellow plumes having been exchanged for mere inconspicuous grayish streaks on the sides of the head. As I came up I could see a young bird poking its head through her wing. She soon left the nest, with a startling rush, and swam rapidly away, leaving three eggs in the nest and two tiny youngsters in the water. The newly hatched downy young can both swim and dive in a feeble way. As I approached them they tried to escape by diving. When I held them in my hands they gave utterance to a little cry not greatly different from that of domestic chicks.

The downy young are very striking in appearance. They are striped longitudinally with black and white stripes; the white however is rather a “soiled” or grayish white. There are two narrow white stripes on the head which converge to a point at the base of the bill. Between these stripes, on the forehead, is a small slightly raised bare spot, of a bright red color, back of which is a white elongated blotch, or median stripe. The bill is pink and has on both mandibles a white tip which resembles white porcelain. This is larger on the upper mandible than on the lower. On the upper mandible between the nostrils there is a black spot. The iris is brown, not red like that of the adults. The lobate feet are remarkably well developed, but the wings are rudimentary.

On the following day, July 16, I failed to find either the parent or the young at the nest. The three remaining eggs were not covered. Again on the morning of the seventeenth, the nest held only the three uncovered eggs; but when I skirted the east end of the slough to examine a Sora’s nest, I was startled by the parent Grebe taking wing not far from me. She flew over the farthest part of the slough, but soon returned, after circling a time or two, to the small area of open water, where she alighted with a splashing glide. When on the wing this bird shows very prominent white markings. The white secondaries cause the posterior portion of the wing to show as a prominent white area, and of course the entire under surface of the body, being white, is very conspicuous when the bird wheels. The flight is so duck-like that the flying Grebe might readily be mistaken, at a distance, for a duck.

I waded to the spot whence this bird had taken flight and presently saw the water agitated by some small creature beneath the surface. It was one of the diminutive downy Grebes, floating submerged, head downward, with its forward parts thrust into a mass of filamentous vegetation (algae), while its legs, stretched to their full extent posteriorly, were pointed vertically upward toward the surface of the water. I easily took it up in my hand.

The next day, July 18, at 7:30 P. M., another egg had hatched. The nest was not covered. It contained two eggs and nearly all of the opened shell of the other, which last circumstance was of course unusual. I heard the young bird, and by following the faint sound of its voice found it, in the water, about six or eight feet from the nest. It was small enough to have just emerged from the shell. Its bill was very pink and the naked red spot, or comb, on its forehead very bright, though only slightly raised above the surrounding skin. By the merest chance I discovered a downy young duck within a few feet of the Grebe’s nest. It was not identified. Perhaps it had been attracted by the cry of the little Grebe. The adult Grebes were not seen, either on this visit or on July 20, when I looked for them early in the morning. On the latter date the two eggs and the nest were cold and the orphan above mentioned was dead, on the slope of the nest just above the surface of the water. There was an opening in the top of its skull through which its brain had been removed by some small creature. This nestling had probably never seen its parents but had taken to the water wholly by instinct.

On the evening of July 22, the two eggs were cold and had not been disturbed since my previous visit, at which time their positions had been carefully noted. However one of them was “pipped” and I could distinctly hear the voice of the bird within the shell. A search for the parent Grebes was without avail. A faint voice, at the other side of the water, was detected and was followed several times, but when its author was finally located it proved to be not a Grebe but a recently hatched Sora Rail.

The next morning, although the sun shone upon the nest, the eggs were cold and the fetuses in both of them were dead. No birds were seen. My last visit, on the evening of July 24, yielded no further result. But I noted now, that there was no water around the nest. It was stranded upon a mud-bar. This was undoubtedly the cause of forced abandonment of the nest. The Grebes were unable to reach it by a water route, and no other mode of travel was possible to them. A search around the water area, now very small and shallow, gave no further evidence. The Grebes were never seen again.

In reviewing the account of these observations certain groups of data suggest themselves for summarization:

It is interesting to note that only six days elapsed between the removal of the first set of eggs and the deposition of the first egg in a new nest.

The period of incubation is twenty-four or twenty-five days, as shown in the following table of dates, noted at the second nest:

It will be observed that the fourth egg was alive and on the point of hatching, twenty-eight days after it was deposited, but this cannot be considered normal, since the egg had been deprived of the parent heat for several days. It seems remarkable that the fetus survived the cool nights.

Plate X.

1.

Horned Grebe within Arm’s Length of the Camera.

2.

2. Female, Hissing and Ready to Strike in Defense of Nest.

The change of color which these eggs undergo, is also worthy of note. I do not refer to the nest-stains caused by contact with the fermenting vegetation of the nest lining, but to a uniform color change of the surface layer of the shell, which is brought about presumably by exposure to light and atmosphere. Referring to the eggs of the second nest by numbers it will be noted that egg number two, when first observed at 7:30 A. M., had apparently just been deposited. As previously stated, its color was a very delicate bluish-green. Egg number one had already attained its final color; a sort of drab-tinted buff, which rendered it less conspicuous in the nest. Twenty-four hours later, egg number two had changed to the same color as egg number one. No data were recorded for egg number three in this respect. Egg number four, after thirty-six hours, was “nearly but not quite the same color as the others.” After it had been in the nest forty-eight hours it was noted as, “same color as other eggs.” But egg number five could scarcely be recorded as fully changed after eighty-four hours had elapsed. These notes would seem to indicate that the first-laid eggs change color more rapidly than the later ones. It may be noted in this connection that the first eggs are slightly richer in the light green pigment; possibly, also, they receive less shelter from the parent bird than the later eggs.

The usual vocal performance of these Grebes, so far as I was able to determine, is a sort of “ko-wee, ko-wee,” repeated at regular intervals. It might be compared to the squeak of a dry wheelbarrow producing one double squeak at each revolution of the wheel. It is however of a clearer quality than this comparison might indicate. Each “ko-wee” has rising inflection and its two syllables are run closely together, with the accent on the last syllable.

The remarkable change of manner which came over these birds as the moult began will be appreciated by reference to the tabulated schedule of visits. The pugnacious bravery of the female at her first nest is amply attested by the photographs, while the records of the second nest show that the birds rarely permitted themselves to be observed, even at a distance, although they had eggs as before.

These Horned Grebes were absolutely isolated so far as concerns other individuals of the species.[2] There were certainly no other Grebes in the slough. Their nesting associates were as follows: Red-winged Blackbird (Agelaius phœniceus fortis), about three pairs nesting; Sora Rail (Porzana carolina), three or four pairs nesting; Wilson’s Phalarope (Steganopus tricolor), several pairs; Killdeer (Oxyechus vociferus), one pair in evidence; Savannah Sparrows (Passerculus sandwichensis alaudinus) were present at the slough all summer; and a pair of Pintails (Dafila acuta) were believed to have a nest in an adjoining field. The adjoining prairie was monopolized, as usual, by the Horned Larks (Otocoris alpestris leucolæma) and Longspurs (Calcarius ornatus and Rhynchophanes mccowni).

At the present writing this slough is dry; the road which passes through it is traveled every day by automobiles; and the spot where the Grebes established their home a year ago has now been plowed and planted.

HISTORICAL NOTES ON HARRIS’S SPARROW
(ZONOTRICHIA QUERULA).

BY HARRY HARRIS.

During the early decades of the nineteenth century when those pioneer ornithological enthusiasts, whose names and discoveries are familiar to all students of the science, were pushing beyond the frontiers in quest of new objects of study, the Kansas City region was the gateway to the wilderness and the very outpost of civilization. In this immediate neighborhood where the down-rushing Missouri is joined by the less turbulent Kaw, and where the great river bends finally to the east, were situated the frontier settlements of Independence, Fort Osage (Fort Clark, of Lewis and Clark), Westport, and the great Konzas Indian village, while a short distance up-stream were three other landmarks frequently mentioned by travelers. Fort Leavenworth, the mouth of Little Platte River, and the Black Snake Hills.

These names bring to mind several notable ornithologists and botanists whose published journals and narratives are at once fruitful sources of information to the working student and delightful reading to any person. Of all the young scientists who passed this way in their eagerness to explore the unknown beyond and gather its treasures to science, perhaps none are of more interest, though others may be more widely known, than John K. Townsend and Thomas Nuttall. Nuttall’s discovery here of the bird now known as Harris’s Sparrow (Zonotrichia querula), together with the fact that two other eminent ornithological explorers, at later periods, each believed he had discovered the bird in this same region, renders the tradition of peculiar and obvious local interest.

A long entertained hope of being able to determine the actual locality in Jackson County, Missouri, where Nuttall took the original specimen of this Sparrow, has led the writer to bring together the widely scattered data bearing on the early history of the bird. The facts in question, which do not appear to have been previously assembled, present several interesting features.

Nuttall and Townsend had outfitted in St. Louis in late March, 1834, preparatory to a leisurely [pedestrian journey] of some three hundred miles across the state to Independence, where they were to join the large caravan under Captain Nathaniel J. Wyeth, bound for the Columbia River country. On April 28th the party left Independence over the frontier trail to Westport, distant approximately fourteen miles. Some time during the day Nuttall, who was primarily a botanist and is said to have carried no gun, took, or had taken for him by some member of the party, the type specimen of Harris’s Sparrow which he named the Mourning Finch (Fringilla querula). Nuttall writes: “We observed this species, which we at first took for the preceding [White-crowned Sparrow], a few miles to the west of Independence, in Missouri, towards the close of April. It frequents thickets, uttering in the morning, and occasionally at other times, a long, drawling, monotonous and solemn note te de de de. We heard it again on the 5th of May, not far from the banks of the Little Vermilion, of the Kansa.”[3]

The information contained in this short paragraph is the only guide the writer has had in a search for the spot where the species was first met with. Not a little difficulty has been experienced in tracing the road between Independence and Westport in use in the early thirties, since but meager graphic record of its course has been preserved. The accompanying sketch map is in the main authentic, authorities differing as to only a short stretch about three miles from old Westport. Many years association with the birds of this region leads the writer to the conclusion that these scientists would have had difficulty in crossing the Blue Valley at this season of the year without seeing or hearing troops of these striking Sparrows. That part of the road lying within the valley is indicated on the map by arrows.

Townsend’s frame of mind on this momentous day is best described in his own words. “On the 28th of April, at 10 o’clock in the morning, our caravan, consisting of seventy men, and two hundred and fifty horses, began its march; Captain Wyeth and Milton Sublette took the lead, Mr. N.[uttall] and myself rode beside them; then the men in double file, each leading, with a line, two horses heavily laden, and Captain Thing [Captain W.’s assistant] brought up the rear. The band of missionaries, with their horned cattle, rode along the flanks.

“I frequently sallied out from my station to look at and admire the appearance of the cavalcade, and as we rode out from the encampment, our horses prancing, and neighing, and pawing the ground, it was altogether so exciting that I could scarcely contain myself. Every man in the company seemed to feel a portion of the same kind of enthusiasm; uproarious bursts of merriment, and gay and lively songs, were constantly echoing along the line. We were certainly a most merry and happy company. What cared we for the future? We had reason to expect ere long difficulties and dangers, in various shapes, would assail us, but no anticipation of reverses could check the happy exuberance of our spirits.

“Our road lay over a vast rolling prairie, with occasional small spots of timber at the distance of several miles apart, and this will no doubt be the complexion of the track for some weeks.

“In the afternoon we crossed the Big Blue River at a shallow ford. Here we saw a number of the beautiful Yellow-headed Troopials, (Icterus zanthrocephalus) feeding upon the prairie in company with large flocks of Blackbirds, and like these, they often alight upon the backs of our horses.”[4]

Here is a vivid picture of a situation well calculated to stir the imagination and excite the enthusiasm of this twenty-five year old easterner on his first visit to the virgin West, and thoughts of ornithological discoveries were no doubt reserved for the future. Nuttall could not have been so distracted by the excitement incident to the departure of this wild cavalcade, since he had had several previous experiences of the wilderness, was an older man, and was by nature “shy, solitary, contemplative, and of abstract manner.” At all events he set the ornithological pace immediately at the start of the journey by discovering a new bird. Townsend’s silence in his ‘Narrative’ regarding this important event was of course due to courtesy to the discoverer who had not yet given his species to science.

In my account of Nuttall’s discovery of his “Mourning Finch,” I have assumed that the specimen he took in Jackson County is the type. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that in the absence of any definite knowledge regarding the type specimen it is presumed from his description that the specimen here taken was the type. The description referred to was published in the second edition of his Manual (the volume on water birds being a reprint of the first edition) which did not appear until 1840. It will thus be seen that this important species was allowed to remain in obscurity for six years while twenty-four other new species subsequently discovered on the trip had been described, as well as sixteen figured by Audubon in the Great Work, prior to the appearance of Townsend’s Narrative in 1839. Nuttall’s published description of the bird is merely the briefest possible outline of salient specific characters, no measurements whatever being given.

On his return to the East, two years in advance of Townsend, Nuttall had in his possession a quantity of the latter’s material for delivery to the Philadelphia Academy of Sciences, which Institution had helped substantially in financing the travelers. It was this material that Audubon sought so eagerly to possess, that his great work then nearing completion might not lack the new species.[5] Audubon had called on Nuttall, in Boston, in the hope of assistance from that quarter, and was promised duplicates of all the new species in his possession. It is said that five species were here secured, but the Mourning Finch was not included. Nuttall had reserved this discovery for his own book, and not only was posterity thereby deprived of an Havell engraving of the largest and handsomest of our Sparrows, but Audubon, being kept in the dark, was himself to later publish the bird as the discovery of his friend Edward Harris.[6]

On the same day that Townsend and Nuttall were so picturesquely entering the Indian country, Maximilian, Prince of Wied, who had spent the previous year on the upper Missouri, was making his way down-stream on his return to civilization. On May 13, 1834, when but a few miles from the northern boundary of Missouri, his hunters took specimens of a bird new to him. In the second volume of his published journal,[7] he says: “It was toward eight o’clock in the cool morning of May 13 (1834) that we stopped on the right bank of the river and landed on a fine, green prairie, beset with bushes and high isolated trees.... We found many beautiful birds, among which Icteria viridis and the handsome Grosbeak with red breast Fringilla ludoviciana.... At noon we reached Belle-Vue, Major Dougherty’s Agency.... To the naturalist the surroundings of Belle-Vue were highly attractive. The beautiful wooded hills had shady ravines and small wild valleys.... Many, and some of them beautiful, birds animated these lovely thickets, the Cuckoo, the Carolina Dove, the Red-breasted Grosbeak, Sialia wilsoni, several Finches, among which Fringilla cyanea and erythropthalma, and of about the same size a new species which at least in Audubon’s Synopsis of the year 1839 is not enumerated and which I called Fringilla comata (2)”[8] The (2) in the text refers to a note at the end of the chapter where a description of the Harris’s Sparrow is given in great detail, and where the statement is made that “this bird nests in thickets along the shore of the Missouri River in the neighborhood of the mouth of La Platte River.” The first volume of Maximilian’s journal, containing the record of his trip up the Missouri, was published in 1839, while volume two, covering the period when the Sparrow was taken, did not appear until 1841. Had he published both volumes simultaneously in 1839, his specific name comata would of course be current. It is interesting to note that though he took his first specimen just fifteen days after Nuttall had taken the type, and at a time when the bulk of the migrants had passed north, he had overlooked an opportunity of being the actual discoverer during the previous April, when he had been in the direct migratory path of the Sparrow at the season of its greatest abundance there.

Nuttall himself had overlooked an opportunity of discovering the bird twenty-four years earlier, and had his attention at that time been directed to birds as well as plants, he would no doubt have become acquainted with the species. Referring to the Journal of his companion,[9] John Bradbury, an English botanist, it is found that they passed through this region during the spring migration of 1810, and while Nuttall’s absent-minded preoccupation in collecting plants was a standing joke among the voyageurs, Bradbury was somewhat more alive to ornithological possibilities, and has left many entertaining, and a few valuable notes on the better known birds. They had spent April 8th and 9th at Fort Osage, now Sibley, Jackson County, Missouri; and the writer knows of no more certain place to find Harris’s Sparrows in early April than in the timber and thickets of this bottom land.

The Lewis and Clark party had passed through this region in June, 1804, and again early in September, 1806, and Thomas Say of the Long Expedition had been here in August, 1819. Maximilian was therefore the first ornithologist to enter the range of this species while the birds were in transit.

The last “discoverer” was Edward Harris, in whose honor Audubon gave the bird its vernacular name. The memorable voyage of Audubon and Harris, together with Bell, Sprague, and Squires, up the Missouri River in 1843 is too well known to require comment. A few quotations will serve in connection with the story of the Sparrow. On May 2 the party passed the point in Jackson County, Missouri, where Nuttall and Townsend had left the river nine years previously. Early the next morning they reached Fort Leavenworth. After leaving this post the boat was stranded on a sand-bar from 5 o’clock in the evening until 10 the next morning, giving the naturalists considerable time to do some collecting in the neighborhood. In his famous journal[10] of the voyage, Audubon says under date of May 4: “Friend Harris shot two or three birds which we have not yet fully established.... Caught ... a new Finch.” And on the next day he states: “On examination of the Finch killed by Harris yesterday, I find it to be a new species, and I have taken its measurements across this sheet of paper.” In volume seven of the octavo edition of his ‘Birds of America,’ where the new species taken on the trip are described, the remarks under the Sparrow are as follows: “The discovery of this beautiful bird is due to my excellent and constant friend Edward Harris, who accompanied me on my late journey to the upper Missouri River, &c., and after whom I have named it, as a memento of the grateful feelings I will always entertain towards one ever kind and generous to me.”

“The first specimen seen was procured May 4, 1843, a short distance below the Black Snake Hills. I afterwards had the pleasure of seeing another whilst the steamer Omega was fastened to the shore, and the crew engaged in cutting wood.

“As I was on the look-out for novelties, I soon espied one of these Finches, which, starting from the ground only a few feet from me, darted on, and passed through the low tangled brushwood too swiftly for me to shoot on the wing. I saw it alight at a great distance, on the top of a high tree, and my several attempts to approach it proved ineffectual; it flew from one to another treetop as I advanced, and at last rose in the air and disappeared. During our journey up stream my friend Harris, however, shot two others, one of which proved a female, and another specimen was procured by Mr. J. G. Bell, who was also one of my party. Upon our return voyage, my friend Harris had the good fortune to shoot a young one, supposed to be a female, near Fort Crogan, on the fifth of October, which I have figured along with a fine male. The female differing in nothing from the latter.

“All our exertions to discover the nest of this species were fruitless, and I concluded by thinking that it proceeds further northward to breed.”

The work in which this supposed discovery was announced was published in 1844, four years after the second edition of Nuttall’s ‘Manual’ appeared. Since this manual was the first American work on ornithology, excepting Wilson’s, to go into a second edition, it was presumably widely known among ornithologists, and it is not easy to understand why Audubon and his coworkers were in ignorance of their lack of claim to Nuttall’s Mourning Finch.

During the twenty-five or thirty years following Audubon’s visit to the Missouri haunts of the Sparrow, practically nothing was learned of its life-history or distribution, and the few scattered specimens that were taken were all from the same general region. A specimen furnished by Lieut. Couch, taken at Fort Leavenworth on October 21, 1854, formed part of the material used by Prof. Baird in his epochal work in 1858, as did another taken at the same point on April 21, 1856, by Dr. Hayden, of Lieut. Warren’s Pacific Coast Surveys party. Dr. Hayden took three other specimens further up the river in the same year. Dr. P. R. Hoy, who collected in the type region in 1854, took a specimen on May 7, and on May 13 met with a troop of fifteen or twenty. There are a few other records from the Missouri Valley and one from Texas (Dresser, Ibis, 1865) prior to the numerous ornithological activities of the early seventies. Dr. J. A. Allen, collecting in the interest of the Museum of Comparative Zoölogy, had his headquarters at Fort Leavenworth during the first ten days of May, 1871, and found Harris’s Sparrows exceedingly abundant in the bottom timber on the Missouri side of the river. He added a few field notes on behavior, appearance, etc, and took a series of specimens. Baird, Brewer, and Ridgway state that from the time of its discovery in 1834 up to 1872 but little information had been obtained in regard to the Sparrow’s general habits, its geographical distribution, or its mode of breeding, single specimens only having been taken at considerable intervals in the valley of the Missouri and elsewhere. In 1874 Dr. Coues brought together all the available data in his interesting article on the bird in ‘Birds of the Northwest,’ but was able to add nothing in determining the bounds of its habitat, which he gave as “Region of the Missouri. East to Eastern Iowa.”

It was not until ten years later that enough information had accumulated to warrant an attempt at defining the limits of its range and the periods of its migration. This was done by the painstaking and accurate Wells W. Cooke in the first volume of ‘The Auk,’ in 1884. In this article, ‘Distribution and Migration of Zonotrichia querula,’ he was able only in a very general and indefinite way to give the western and southern extent of the range, but the eastern limits remain practically as he defined them.

In 1913 Professor Cooke noted the interesting peculiarity of the migration of the Harris’s Sparrow in the interval that elapses after the first spring advance. He states[11] that the birds become common along the Missouri River in northwestern Iowa soon after the middle of March and yet it is not until early May that they are noted a few miles further north in southeastern South Dakota and southwestern Minnesota. He adds that the dates suggest the probability that these March birds have wintered unnoticed in the thick bushes of the bottomlands not far distant, and have been attracted to the open country by the first warm days of spring. This theory is borne out by the facts as observed by the writer in the Kansas City region. The birds are present in this vicinity during even the most severe winters, but keep to the dense shelter of the Missouri bottoms. During mild and open winters a few scattered flocks may even spend the entire season until spring in the hedges and weed patches of the prairie country.

This Sparrow has always attracted attention in the field by its large size and conspicuously handsome appearance, as well as by its sprightly and vivacious manner and querulous notes, but it has seldom been the subject of special notice in the literature of American birds. Its bibliography is chiefly confined to diagnostic listing in formal works on ornithology, brief annotations in faunal lists, and occasional mention in published field notes.

During the thirty-four years that have elapsed since Prof. Cooke’s article of 1884, the Sparrow, as a migrant, has become well known to ornithologists. Its narrow migration path, the center of which in the United States is approximately down the 96th meridian, has been worked out; the wide extent of territory covered by stragglers has been fully reported;[12] the food habits of the bird while on migration have been thoroughly investigated and the results published;[13] the nest has been seen once,[14] and young just out of the nest have been collected,[15] and the general region of the breeding ground itself is known to be where barren tundra meets the edge of the timber between Hudson Bay and Great Bear Lake. But the eggs yet remain to be discovered.

NOTES ON THE STRUCTURE OF THE PALATE
IN THE ICTERIDÆ.

BY ALEXANDER WETMORE.

The curious keel-like, angular projection found on the palate in the North American Grackles of the genus Quiscalus, recognized as one of the prominent characters distinguishing that group of Blackbirds, is a structure that can hardly fail to attract attention when the mouth is examined in freshly killed specimens, or in birds preserved in spirits. Recently, certain observations made in the field on these birds, which will be recounted later, recalled this structure to mind and the writer was led to make a somewhat detailed study of the palatal keel in the Grackles, and finally to examine the appearance of the palate in other members of the family Icteridæ. In these studies, carried on in the United States National Museum, there have been available suitable specimens representing all of the leading genera with the exception of Clypeicterus, Ocyalus, Lampropsar and Macragelæus. In all, one hundred and thirteen species belonging to thirty-one genera have been examined.

Fig. 1. Head of Quiscalus quiscula æneus.

a. Palatal keel (about natural size.)

Study of skins of the genus Quiscalus shows that the palatal keel is developed as a compressed projection from the roof of the mouth, slightly behind the center of the commissure [(Fig. 1)]. Viewed from the side it is truncated in front, forming an angular projection that has a tendency to become toothed at the tip. Posteriorly it lowers to merge finally into the level of the palate. The anterior margin is sharp, and the posterior portion is thicker and stronger. The entire ridge is developed as a fold in the horny sheathing of the palate, and the surface of the premaxilla underneath is smooth and flat with no indication of a bony ridge to support the keel.

From the examination of museum skins it appears that the palatal ridge begins to develop in juvenile birds a short time before they leave the nest, at a stage when the body is well covered with feathers, and the incoming tail feathers have attained a length of 20 to 25 millimeters. In such birds the keel appears as a very slightly raised ridge that forms a distinct line on the palate. The bill at this time has reached about three-fourths of the length attained when the bird is adult, so that the beginning of this ridge appears to be located far forward, though it occupies the same position in relation to the external nasal opening that the fully developed keel does in the adult. In the dried skins the ridge is somewhat indistinct, but it is possible that it may be more readily apparent in living or recently killed specimens.

In birds that are almost fully feathered and that are about ready to leave the nest the bill has become stronger, the raised palatal line is heavier, and has a rounded anterior end that forms a marked projection and then continues to merge with the palate in front. In older specimens, able to fly but with the rectrices only 95 to 105 mm. long, the palatal ridge was better marked, being broad and strong basally and more slender toward the point. In a few of the specimens of this stage examined the cutting angle seemed well developed, but in others it was less strongly indicated. In birds that were fully grown but still in juvenal plumage the ridge was well developed but not so prominent as in adults. In some the basal portion was broad and rounded, verging toward the formation of palate found in the genus Megaquiscalus. In others the anterior cutting angle was more prominent but the entire ridge had only attained from one-half to three-fourths of its full height.

No one apparently has raised the question of the possible function of this keel, developed as described above, so that it seems proper to record here certain field observations made by the writer that indicate the use of this structure. As might be expected it serves in securing and preparing certain parts of the food. In December 1917, near Stuttgart in eastern Arkansas, during a time when the ground was covered by a light fall of snow, flocks of Bronzed Grackles were found feeding among small groves of a pin oak (Quercus pagodaefolia). The ground under these trees was nearly bare and the birds were working about searching for the small acorns that had fallen and were partly concealed under leaves and low plant growth beneath the oaks. The Grackles were tame and with a pair of binoculars it was an easy matter to watch them at close range. The acorns were picked up, held in the bill and pressed firmly against the keel on the palate, then released, turned slightly by means of mandibles and tongue, and then again gripped strongly. In this way the acorn was rotated until a line had been impressed entirely around the shell. With a little further manipulation the shell dropped off in two halves and the kernel was swallowed entire without further preparation, though frequently it was gulped down only after some effort. After watching one feeding flock for some time I clapped my hands sharply to startle them and then examined the ground where they had been at work. Scattered among the leaves were many acorn shells, most of which had been cut in two in a line transverse to the longitudinal axis. Some had fairly smooth, clean-cut margins, while others were roughened and jagged. In searching through the leaves I picked up one acorn still intact that had been dropped by one of the birds, perhaps when the flock was frightened up, in which a line had been impressed entirely around the center. In this the impressions of the palatal keel were distinctly visible.

When attention was once attracted to this manner of feeding other incidents were noted in which the palatal keel was brought in play. On one occasion on the streets of Washington a Purple Grackle was observed attempting to split open a kernel of corn dropped from some passing dray. The bird held this grain in the slight notch near the center of the bill and pressed it against the angular keel. The grain proved refractory, as it snapped out several times, dropping 8 or 10 inches away, to be seized and again compressed. Watching until it had been dropped I frightened the bird and secured the kernel of corn. On one side four grooves impressed in the hard outer surface were visible showing where, and with what force, the sharp keel had been applied.

Apparently the palatal ridge develops with the gradual growth of the bill, and becomes fully functional shortly after the immature bird is left by its parents to its own resources in securing food. It seems to be fully grown in all by the middle of September. In many adult specimens the ridge shows signs of heavy wear from the nearly constant use to which it is put. In some the cutting angle was well rounded in front from constant abrasion, while in others the anterior margin had become irregular and broken. In one specimen the thin lower margin of the compressed keel was entirely worn away, leaving a low rounded projection in which the two sides of the fold by which the keel had been formed were clearly visible, with a line of separation between them. It was interesting to note that the palatal ridge was usually well worn in old adults, taken in late fall or early spring, belonging to the northern races (Quiscalus q. quiscula and Q. q. æneus) while little or no wear was apparent in similar specimens of the southern form (Q. q. aglæus) from South Carolina and Florida. The data available from the examination of a small number of stomachs of this form from Florida show a preponderance of insects and fruits with very little mast or grain, a fact of interest, but one that is not fully substantiated as the material available is small.

Among near relatives of Quiscalus quiscula a slightly developed palatal ridge was encountered in Megaquiscalus macrourus, where the projection was broad and well rounded posteriorly, and narrow in front with the lower margin acute, forming a sharp keel. In some specimens seen this keel was slowly reduced until it merged smoothly with the palatal surface in front. In others the anterior margin was obtusely declivous. The obtuse anterior cutting angle projected below the margins of the tomia for nearly a millimeter in a few individuals, and in these occasional specimens the resemblance was striking to those bills of Quiscalus in which the ridge was most poorly developed. Juvenile specimens of Megaquiscalus m. macrourus from Fort Clark, Texas, that had been collected just after they had left the nest, had the palatal ridge already well indicated though only about one-half developed. In the slender-billed forms known as Megaquiscalus tenuirostris and M. nicaraguensis the palatal keel was much as in M. major though slighter and less pronounced.

In Blackbirds belonging to the West Indian group known as Holoquiscalus a raised line was also more or less developed. In general the growth was similar to that in Megaquiscalus as the posterior portion was broad and rounded, while anteriorly the ridge was narrowed and the lower margin became acute. There is some variation in the size of this anterior portion; in a few the crest is obtusely declivous in front, approaching the condition found in Quiscalus, but never with the keel produced so that it projects below the plane subtended by the cutting edges of the tomia.

The discovery of a peculiar knoblike process on the palate of the mexican orioles belonging to the species Icterus gularis was one of the really surprising discoveries made during a more or less cursory examination of the palate in various species and genera of Icteridæ picked out at random, and it was the finding of this structure in an Oriole that led to a detailed examination of all of the material available. In Icterus gularis the palatal ridge is from 1.2 to 1.5 millimeters high at its anterior end [(Fig. 2)]. The entire structure is broad and somewhat flattened. The ventral surface is slightly rounded, the sides slightly sloping, the sides and lower surface joining at a sharp angle. In front the ridge is abruptly truncated at its ventral margin where there is sometimes a slight tooth or projection. Below this point the anterior surface slopes abruptly, and then passes over into the roof of the palate. The ridge is about two millimeters broad, and there is a slightly indicated raised line on the ventral surface for three-quarters of its length behind. From this description it may be seen that this blunt projection is entirely different from the sharply keeled ridge found in Quiscalus.

Fig. 2. Head of Icterus gularis yucatanensis.

b. Palatal knob (about natural size.)

Examination of other orioles shows that Icterus gularis stands alone in respect to this development as there is nothing found in other species that approaches it save for a broad, low, rounded projection, slight but distinct, that is found on the palate in Icterus xanthornus. In Icterus laudabilis and I. prosthemelas there is a very slightly raised median ridge developed on the posterior part of the roof of the mouth. In twenty-eight other species belonging to this genus the palate exhibits no peculiarities worthy of mention. This structure in the bill in Icterus gularis is constant in its presence, and serves as a trenchant character distinguishing it from other orioles, or in fact from any other members of the Icteridæ that have been available for examination. The differences pointed out above, together with others of lesser importance, seem to be of generic value. It is therefore proposed to recognize for this species the genus name

Andriopsar Cassin.[16]

Type.—Ps[arocolius] gularis Wagler, Isis, 1829, p. 754 (type locality, Tehuantepec, Oaxaca).

Diagnosis.—Medium-sized Icteridæ with short, heavy bill; a prominent knoblike projection on the posterior median portion of the palate, broad and somewhat flattened in general form, with abrupt sides, truncated in front, sometimes with a tooth or notch at the anterior ventral angle, about 2 millimeters broad and from 1.2 to 1.5 millimeters high in front; depth of culmen at base nearly equal to one-half length of culmen (varying from slightly more to slightly less); tarsus slightly longer than culmen from base; middle toe with claw equal to two-thirds, or slightly more, of length of tarsus.

One species in which three subspecies have been described is at present known to belong in this genus. These will stand as follows:

• Andriopsar gularis gularis (Wagler)
• Andriopsar gularis tamaulipensis (Ridgway)
• Andriopsar gularis yucatanensis (Berlepsch)

At present there is no information on the feeding habits of these orioles available but it seems certain that they will show some striking peculiarity in choice of food or in manner of securing and handling it when the life history of the species is better known.

In conclusion I desire to give a brief summary of the condition of the palate in other Icteridæ where comment is necessary. In Euphagus carolinus and E. cyanocephalus there is a slight elongate ridge of low elevation, rounded posteriorly more acute in front, and not projecting as far as the level of the tomia. This raised line is slightly more pronounced in E. carolinus than in E. cyanocephalus in spite of the fact that the latter has a heavier, stronger bill. The species known as Ptiloxena atroviolacea has an elongate, narrow, slightly elevated ridge on the posterior portion of the palate, rounded behind and more or less acute in front, but with too low an elevation to be considered a highly specialized structure. Sumichrast’s Blackbird (Dives dives) has a palatal structure somewhat resembling that of the genus Holoquiscalus save that the entire ridge is shorter.

With regard to others, Tangavius æneus has a slight ridge, that becomes stronger behind, extending for two-thirds the length of the palate. A similar ridge in Molothrus badius is less developed at its anterior end than in the preceding genus. In Molothrus fringillarius (one specimen only examined) this ridge is still less in development. In Molothrus ater, the cutting edges of the tomia do not extend below the level of the palate, and there is a rounded swelling behind the center; in Molothrus atronitens only a very slight ridge is present, and finally in M. rufo-axillaris there is no peculiarity worthy of mention. Nesopsar nigerrimus shows a well marked rounded ridge on the posterior part of the palate that merges into the anterior surface without becoming produced as an angle. Xanthopsar imthurmi shows a slightly developed posterior ridge, while in Agelaius phœniceus (including gubernator) there is a very faint swelling at the posterior end of the palate, that becomes much more pronounced in A. tricolor. Agelaius thilius and A. icterocephalus show a faintly raised median line, that in the latter species is broadened and rounded posteriorly. Amblyrhamphus holosericeus has a long, low, keeled median ridge, and in the three species of Sturnella there is an elongate keel, that is rounded behind and acute in front. In Curæus aterrimus the palate is on a level with the edge of the tomia, and has a low rounded bulge on its posterior surface. Trupialis militaris and T. falklandicus have a slight rounded posterior ridge, that is absent in T. bellicosa and T. defillipi, and finally in Gymnomystax melanicterus there is a low, narrow, keeled ridge on the posterior part of the palate, that merges gradually into the surrounding level in front. None of the other species seen present any marked peculiarities.

THE CROW IN COLORADO.

BY W. H. BERGTOLD.

A study of the technical status, and distribution of the Crow in Colorado discloses, at once, an interesting, and a peculiar situation.[17]

The Crow was first recorded in Colorado, so far as I am able to learn, by Aiken (1), who reported it in this State in 1872 under the name Corvus americanus; thereafter several other writers mentioned the bird, as having been found in Colorado:—Ridgway in 1877 (2), Stephens in 1878 (3), and Drew in 1881 and 1885 (4), all using the same name employed by Aiken.

Ridgway (5) erected the subspecies hesperis in 1887, at that time giving its range substantially as outlined today by the A. O. U. ‘Check-List’; the validity of this subspecies was not admitted by the A. O. U. Committee until July, 1908 (6). In his original description of the new subspecies (hesperis) Ridgway did not state how many skins he examined nor whence they came, but gave as the eastern limit of the new subspecies “east to the Rocky Mountains,” while in his later account (7) of hesperis, for which he utilized twenty-three skins for study purposes, he carefully qualifies the eastern limit by adding “from the Eastern portion of the arid region?” It is to be noted that he did not definitely mention Colorado as being included within the hesperis area; in his coincidental review of the literature possibly related to the new subspecies, however, all citations of previous records of Colorado Crows are grouped under the literature of subspecies hesperis. This probably was done because he did not have time to sift out the records relating to the eastern slope from those of the western slope so as to place them under the literature relating to the individual subspecies. So far as Colorado is concerned in this question, Ridgway probably did not take this matter up in detail because there is not a single Crow skin in either the National Museum, or in the Biological Survey Collections, which came from Colorado.

Most, if not all, of the writers who thereafter, directly or indirectly, touched on the Crow’s position in Colorado, made their diagnoses as to subspecies on regional grounds alone.

In the interval between Ridgway’s erection of subspecies hesperis, and its admittance to the A. O. U. ‘Check List’ (1887 to 1908) Morrison (8) and Drew (19) were, so far as I know, the only writers to record the Crow in Colorado, Morrison mentioning it first, as Corvus frugivorus and the second time (9) as Corvus americanus, while Drew entered his record under the latter name.

Cooke’s ‘List of the Birds of Colorado’ was published in March 1897, and in it he grouped all of the previous Colorado Crow records, regardless of region, under the name Corvus americanus; notwithstanding that Ridgway had ten years previously separated the eastern and the western Crows, Cooke (22) logically disregarded this action, because he followed the A. O. U. ‘Check-List’ in assembling his ‘List of Colorado Birds.’ In all the various supplements which Cooke published to his list (the last being in ‘The Auk’ of October 1909) he did not change his early naming of the Colorado Crows, allowing them to stand as Corvus americanus or its synonym. I am confident that he recognized the probability of there being two subspecies in the State, but wisely refrained from opening the question because of lack of material available for definite determination. Furthermore I am given to understand that there are no Crow skins in the collections of the State Agriculture College at Fort Collins, where Cooke was located when he compiled his ‘List,’ which fact would lend support to the idea that his omission to mention the possibility of both the Eastern and the Western Crows being found in Colorado was due to his unwillingness to pass judgment on a question without the support of definite material or data.

In his ‘The Present Status of the Colorado Check-List of Birds’ (10), Cooke again was silent as to the presence of subspecies brachyrhynchos or of hesperis or of both within the confines of Colorado, though at least three writers (11), (12), (13), had previously mentioned the Colorado Crow in their respective papers, as being hesperis; Cooke was too careful and experienced an ornithologist to have overlooked these records and I am sure his silence was judiciously intentional and premeditated.

It thus appears that between 1887 and 1912 the Crows of Colorado had been recorded by some observers, so far as subspecies were concerned, as brachyrhynchos, and by others as hesperis, but so far as I know and am able to learn, none suggested or recorded that these two subspecies coexisted in the State.

I am inclined to believe that Sclater’s (13) designating the Colorado Crow as hesperis was made on purely geographical grounds, because the collection then at his command, (that at Colorado College, Colorado Springs) contains but one crow skin, a partial albino, which proves to be, under examination, subspecies brachyrhynchos. E. R. Warren allows me to state that he has no Crow skins in his collection, and that he made his subspecific diagnosis of hesperis, for the birds seen near Bulah, Colorado, on geographic grounds only. In later records Warren (14) wisely refrains from trying to decide as to the subspecies, when listing the Crows seen in Montrose County, and in northern Colorado, mentioning the birds merely as Corvus brachyrhynchos, and Henderson (18) did likewise in his Boulder County List.

I do not know on what grounds Hersey and Rockwell (11) made their statement that subspecies hesperis was to be found on the eastern slope of the Rockies.

Since Cooke’s last word on our Colorado avifauna, two more writers have given the Crow as a species found within the State, each listing it as hesperis, and both records are for the Atlantic slope. I am permitted by F. C. Lincoln (15), the first of these two writers, to say that he did not take any Crows in Yuma County, and that he made his subspecific diagnosis on geographic grounds alone. It is now, unhappily, impossible to determine what led Betts (16), the second of these two writers, to conclude that the Boulder County Crow was hesperis. I do not know whether he collected specimens in Boulder County; but Junius Henderson informs me that Betts sent crow eggs to the National Museum. But he probably did not send skins for, as has already been said, there is not a Crow skin in the National Museum collection, from Colorado. The internal evidence (18) points to the belief that Betts too, recorded the Boulder County Crow as hesperis, on geographic grounds alone.

Crows seen by Warren (17 and 20) in other parts of the State are given as subspecies brachyrhynchos, but again named on regional grounds only.

From the foregoing it appears that the Crows of Colorado were listed, principally as Corvus americanus up to the acceptance of subspecies hesperis in the A. O. U. ‘Check-List,’ and since then variously listed as Corvus brachyrhynchos, Corvus brachyrhynchos brachyrhynchos, or Corvus brachyrhynchos hesperis, but, to repeat, so far as I can learn, in no instance have any of the last two kinds of records been made on skin determinations. This statement is based on a study of the published records, and on a considerable relevant correspondence with my associates throughout the State; if I err the statement is open and subject to correction.

The western third of Colorado lies on the Pacific slope, and the eastern two-thirds on the Atlantic and on both of these slopes the Crow has been detected, and variously recorded as to subspecies. The A. O. U. ‘Check-List’ does not speak of hesperis actually extending eastward to the Rocky Mountains, but Mr. Ridgway, in a recent communication said to me “I feel quite sure that any Crow found west of the Divide in Colorado would be C. b. hesperis. On the other hand, those found on the eastern side would almost certainly be C. b. brachyrhynchos.”

I am fortunate, not only in having material in my own collection, which substantiates Ridgway’s belief, but in also having had access, thanks to my obliging friends, to specimens and data which also show that his belief is essentially correct.

I have been able to study fourteen Crow skins from the eastern side of the Rockies in Colorado, six males and eight females; of the males three are typical brachyrhynchos, two are clearly hesperis, and the last is mainly brachyrhynchos, but with weaker bill and tarsus than is ordinarily found with that subspecies. It is of interest to note that this last specimen was taken in Weld County close to the locality whence came the two previously mentioned hesperis skins. It is much more difficult to allocate the females of this group of skins; however four are more typically subspecies brachyrhynchos than is another female in my collection which I collected many years ago in New York, and another female is also of this subspecies, but with a weak bill, while the remaining three are too near the dividing line to be definitely located as to subspecies, all showing characters of one or of the other of the two forms under study, in varying degrees of intensity.

I have been able to study but one Crow skin from the western slope in Colorado, to-wit, a skin in my collection, which was taken at Ignacio, Colorado, in October, 1917, by my friend and colleague, Dr. Walter L. Mattick; fortunately it is the skin of a male, and is typical hesperis.

We are now on firm ground; those skins from the eastern slope which are most likely to be characteristic of a given subspecies, to-wit, males, show that both brachyrhynchos and hesperis are to be found on that slope, and the Ignacio skin proves that hesperis occurs on the western slope.

Hence one can say now that both Corvus brachyrhynchos brachyrhynchos and Corvus brachyrhynchos hesperis are to be included in future lists of Colorado birds.

The common Crow is normally a bird of moderately large and fairly dense timber, a growth found in Colorado only along the larger streams and in the mountains; if one plot the Crow stations of Colorado on a map, it at once becomes patent that most, if not all, of these stations are to be found along the courses and headwaters of the State’s larger streams. This fact seems to lend color and support to the idea that subspecies brachyrhynchos probably penetrated Colorado from the east by following the larger streams towards the mountains, for it is along these rivers that one finds trees to the Crow’s liking, and too, Crows are increasingly more common as one travels eastward along these watercourses. It would seem reasonable to believe that along similar natural “crow” highways hesperis would find its way eastward from the Pacific side into Colorado.

The smaller size, alone, of hesperis, often makes it distinguishable in the field, a fact which first came to my attention while in the “hills” on the Gila River in New Mexico, in 1906. During the same year I saw a considerable flock of Crows immediately south of Antonito, Colorado; I was then again impressed by the smaller size of these southern Colorado and New Mexico Crows. I now believe these Antonito Crows were subspecies hesperis; Antonito is on (or very close) to the Rio Grande River, which drains part of the Atlantic-Gulf of Mexico watershed, part of which watershed forms the western portion of Texas, an area included in the present known range of hesperis. It does not seem unreasonable to believe that hesperis works its way from western Texas, up along the Rio Grande, finally reaching the vicinity of Antonito, and also the San Luis Valley. In support of this latter view I am permitted to say that Mrs. Jesse Stevenson of Monte Vista, Colorado, recently saw a Crow for the first time in twenty-five years in this valley, and was at once impressed with its small size as compared with those she formerly studied in the East.

As mentioned above, it is clear that hesperis occurs on both sides of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. Now one must ask if subspecies brachyrhynchos occurs on the western slope as well as on the eastern slope.

I cannot even inferentially decide whether or not subspecies brachyrhynchos reaches the west side of the Rockies in Colorado; there is but one reference to it in literature, known to me, as occurring on the western slope of Colorado, to-wit, that by Warren (20) who listed the Crows of Gunnison County as subspecies brachyrhynchos, doing it, however, as a matter of expediency only, as he took no specimens. If this subspecies does range to the west side of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, I believe it will be found in northwestern Colorado, coming in as a straggler from Wyoming. Records of the Crow from northwestern Colorado and southwestern Wyoming are lacking (21), or at least unknown to me.

One can hazard the guess that the Crows of southeastern Colorado are subspecies brachyrhynchos, but hesperis may also be found in that area, coming in as an infiltration from Texas. I am convinced that hesperis works its way up from the Lower Rio Grande Valley, along the eastern foothills, finally reaching, as we now know, as far north as Weld County.

It is highly desirable that a considerable series of Crow skins be collected from Colorado, embracing specimens especially from the western portions of the State, and also from the southern border, to the end that the exact distribution of subspecies brachyrhynchos and hesperis be definitely delimited for Colorado.

Résumé.

I.—It can now be said categorically that the Crow occurs in Colorado in the guise of two subspecies, viz., brachyrhynchos and hesperis, both being found on the eastern slope, and only the latter on the western slope of the Rocky Mountains.

II.—The above conclusion stands if my determinations of the skins I have studied be correct; if my determinations be incorrect they show that the criteria by which these two subspecies are differentiated, are too subtile and refined for an ordinary ornithologist like myself to grasp and apply, or that the described differences between these two subspecies break down with the Crows found in Weld County.

Bibliography.

• 1. Aiken: Proc. Boston Soc. Nat. Hist., XV, p. 193 et seq.
• 2. Ridgway: Field and Forest, June 1877, p. 208.
• 3. Stephens: Bull. Nutt. Ornith. Club, iii (1878), p. 94.
• 4. Drew: Bull. Nutt. Ornith. Club, vi (1881), p. 143, and Auk, Jan., 1885, p. 16.
• 5. Ridgway: Man. N. A. Birds, 1887, p. 362.
• 6. Auk: July, 1908, p. 348.
• 7. Ridgway: Birds No. and Mid. America, vol. iii, p. 270 et seq.
• 8. Morrison: Ornith. and Oölogist, July, 1888, p. 107.
• 9. Morrison: Ornith. and Oölogist, xiv (1889), p. 147.
• 10. Cooke: Condor, July, 1912, p. 147.
• 11. Hersey and Rockwell: Condor, xi (July-Aug. 1909), p. 118.
• 12. Warren: Condor, Jan. 1910, p. 34.
• 13. Sclater: Birds of Colo., 1912.
• 14. Warren: Condor, Jan. 1909, p. 15.
• 15. Lincoln: Birds of Yuma Co., Proc. Colo. Mus. Nat. Hist., Dec. 1915, p. 9.
• 16. Betts: Univ. Colo. Studies, X, No. 4, 1913, p. 203.
• 17. Warren: Auk, Apr. 1910, p. 147.
• 18. Henderson: Annot. List Birds Boulder Co., Univ. Colo. Studies, Vol. vi. No. 3, p. 233.
• 19. Drew et al.: Ornith. and Oölogist, Oct., 1889, p. 147.
• 20. Warren: Auk, July, 1916, p. 306.
• 21. Knight: Birds of Wyoming, Univ. Wyo., Bull. No. 55, 1902, p. 109.
• 22. Cooke: Birds of Colorado, Colo. State Agric. Col. Bull. No. 37, March, 1897.
• 23. Warren: Condor, May, 1912, p. 97.

WINTER ROBINS IN NOVA SCOTIA.

BY HARRISON F. LEWIS.

Nearly every winter a few stray Robins are observed in Nova Scotia, and occasionally a small flock has been noted as present at that season, although my personal observations here during the six winters immediately previous to that of 1917-18 do not include a half dozen individuals of this species. During the winter of 1917-18, however, Robins were reported in such large numbers and over so great an area as to constitute an occurrence quite unique in the recorded ornithology of the province.

One Robin was seen by me about December 20, 1917, but unfortunately, the exact date of the observation was not recorded. In the last week of January several reports of Robins seen near Halifax were noted, and in the first two or three days of February numerous additional reports were received and I saw a few birds of this species myself. It quickly became evident that Robins were being observed near Halifax, at least, in numbers very extraordinary for the season.

As soon as it was realized that the occurrence was of an unusual character, steps were taken to secure a record of it. It is much to be regretted that, owing to the fact of the casual appearance of Robins here in ordinary winters, this realization was not reached a few days sooner, for, in that case, attempts to obtain records from others would, no doubt, have been more successful, and my own observations would in all probability have been more extensive. It so happened that, during the time when the Robins were most abundant in this immediate vicinity, military duties, always exacting, became unusually strenuous, and for a while little thought or effort could be given by me to the birds. Nevertheless, as many observations as possible were made, and the observations of those with whom I came in contact were recorded. At the same time, I endeavored to obtain information from other parts of the province, and to that end sent numerous inquiries to those whom I knew to be interested in birds or who were likely to be interested.

Here I was greatly hindered by the present condition of the observation and study of birds in Nova Scotia. I was forced to realize that there are less than a dozen active bird students in the province, and, although there are doubtless many more than that who would note with spontaneous interest the occurrence of Robins here in midwinter, there is no organization by which I could learn of the identity of such individuals when personally unknown to me, or through which I could get into communication with them. I was forced to depend very largely upon blind guess, while following up every clue which I found, and the resulting observations, though fairly numerous, are no doubt but a small part of what might have been obtained had there been, for instance, even one trained and active observer in each county. This fact should be kept in mind when considering the records obtained as evidence of the degree of abundance of the robins.

To all who contributed observations or information concerning the Robins I wish to express my thanks. I am also under obligation to the Amherst ‘News-Sentinel,’ the Truro ‘Daily News,’ and the Glace Bay ‘Gazette’ for publishing, on the initiative of their respective editors, requests that information concerning winter Robins be sent to me. These requests were the means of providing me with no inconsiderable amount of valuable data.

It may be argued that observations learned of in this way are untrustworthy and therefore valueless, for, of necessity, I am not personally acquainted with many of those who so kindly furnished me with information, and I cannot definitely vouch for the skill in bird observation of each and every one of them. It was considered, however, that, in a case of this kind, such observations might be accepted, at least as evidence tending to show a certain general condition, for nearly every intelligent adult is able to identify a Robin. Certainly, no species here is capable of more accurate popular identification, for even the well-known Crow is confused with the common Northern Raven by all but a few.

The observations obtained are summarized in the following list, which shows, in each case, the date of the observation, the locality in which it was made, the name of the observer or source of information, and the exact or approximate number of birds seen. Care has been taken to indicate any indefiniteness, so that no data are recorded as definite which were not so reported to me or observed by me. Every endeavor has been made to have the observations here recorded as definite as possible, but a number of somewhat indefinite observations are included because they are important, either geographically or temporally, in a report of this nature. With the exception of those observations where names of newspapers are quoted, and of one observation reported by Prof. H. G. Perry and one reported by Mr. W. Archibald, the name of the actual observer accompanies each observation.

• December 20 (about). Bedford, N. S. (H. F. Lewis) 1.
• December 27. Sydney Mines, N. S. (Miss Dawe) 1.
• January 1. Ohio, Yarmouth Co., N. S. (Mr. Cann) about 12.
• January 1. Yarmouth, N. S. (Mr. H. B. Vickery) 1.
• January 5 (about). Upper Musquodoboit, Halifax Co., N. S. (Miss Leslie) “large flock.”
• January 16. Glace Bay, N. S. (Mr. A. A. McDonald) 12.
• “January.” Bridgetown, N. S. (Mr. H. F. Williams) “several.”
• Daily January 20-February 6. Brookfield, Colchester Co., N. S. (Mr. Frank Little) 2.
• January 24. Dutch Village Road, Halifax, N. S. (Mr. A. E. Brooks) 1.
• “Last of January.” Belmont, Colchester Co., N. S. (Miss Ruth Lear) 4.
• January 26. Sydney, N. S. (Rev. T. A. Rodger) 12.
• January 26. Dartmouth, N. S. (Mr. J. E. Smallman) 12.
• January 27 (about). Yarmouth, N. S. (‘Yarmouth Herald’ of January 29) “several flocks.”
• January 27. Dartmouth, N. S. (Sgt. R. Smallman) about 8.
• January 27 or February 3. Pugwash, N. S. (Miss B. Fullerton) 1.
• January 27. Point Pleasant Park, Halifax, N. S. (Sgt. A. Cossham) 1.
• January 27. William St., Halifax, N. S. (Miss H. Paul) 1.
• Daily, January 27-February 8. Truro, N. S. (Prof. L. A. DeWolfe) 2.
• January 28 (about). Sydney, N. S. (Mr. Geo. McLeod) “several.”
• January 28. Sydney, N. S. (Rev. T. A. Rodger) 20.
• January 28. Amherst, N. S. (Miss D. Hurtley) 1.
• January 31. Truro, N. S. (Miss E. Waller) 1.
• Through January and first half of February. Truro, N. S. (Miss L. Schurman) 3-4.
• February 1 (about). Pugwash, N. S. (Mrs. McIvor) 2.
• February 1 (about). Carleton, Yarmouth Co., N. S. (Miss Mary Wyman) 1.
• February 1. Yarmouth, N. S. (‘Yarmouth Telegram’ of February 1) several (killed by owl).
• February 1. Dartmouth, N. S. (H. F. Lewis) 2.
• February 2. Bedford, N. S. (H. F. Lewis) 1.
• February 3. Jubilee Road, Halifax, N. S. (Sgt. W. J. Alsop) 3.
• February 3. Young Av., Halifax, N. S. (Sgt. H. P. Eisner) 1.
• February 3. “Africville,” Halifax, N. S. (Sgt. A. G. Cossham) 1.
• February 3. Ocean Terminals, Halifax, N. S. (Mr. C. Churchill) 25-30.
• February 3. Kempt Road, Halifax, N. S. (H. F. Lewis) 1.
• February 3. “The Common,” Halifax, N. S. (Sgt. J. A. Fraser) 1.
• February 3. Dartmouth, N. S. (H. F. Lewis) 1.
• February 4. Dartmouth, N. S. (H. F. Lewis) 1.
• February 5 (about). Wolfville, N. S. (reported by Prof. H. G. Perry) 12-18.
• February 5. Gottingen St., Halifax, N. S. (‘Evening Mail’ of February 14) 1.
• February 6. Truro, N. S. (Prof. E. C. Allen) 2.
• February 8. Loganville, Pictou Co., N. S. (Mr. Wm. McNeil) 4-5.
• February 8. South End, Halifax, N. S. (H. F. Lewis) 5.
• February 9. Truro, N. S. (Prof. E. C. Allen) 1.
• February 11. Truro, N. S. (Prof. E. C. Allen) 1.
• February 12. Dartmouth, N. S. (H. F. Lewis) 1.
• February 13 (about). Glenwood, Yarmouth Co., N. S., (Mr. R. M. Sargent) about 12.
• February 13 and for some time previously. Pictou, N. S. (Mr. A. Scott Dawson) 30-40.
• February 16. Amherst, N. S. (Mrs. H. T. Holmes) 2.
• February 18. Dartmouth, N. S. (H. F. Lewis) 1. “All winter,” previous to February 19.
• Wolfville, N. S.(Mr. Gormley) “a few.”
• February 21. Antigonish, N. S. (Mr. R. Archibald) 1.
• February 24. Pictou, N. S. (reported by Mr. W. Archibald) “several.”
• February 25. ‘The Common,’ Halifax, N. S. (Mr. H. B. Vickery) 1.

It will be noted that the points from which Robins are reported are scattered throughout the province, from Sydney and Glace Bay in the east to Yarmouth in the west, and from Amherst, on the New Brunswick boundary, to places such as Halifax and Glenwood, on the south shore. The intervening parts of the province are fairly well represented in the observations, so that these may be held to indicate a condition general in Nova Scotia. I am persuaded that the fact that there are considerable areas, such as the three counties of Shelburne, Queens, and Lunenburg, from which no observations are recorded, is due to the absence of observers there, or to my failure to get into communication with any who may have been there, rather than to the absence of winter Robins from those regions. This belief is strengthened by the fact that, in every place in the province where trained observers were known to be situated, winter Robins were reported by them.

In the case of observations made in Halifax I have recorded the street or part of the city where the birds were seen, so as to show that the distribution in the Halifax area was general, and that it is improbable that the same few birds were being recorded repeatedly by different observers. This is particularly important in connection with the observations made on February 3, on which date many observers saw Robins in and near Halifax. No two of the observations recorded for that day are from the same part of the city. It should be borne in mind, also, when considering these records, that Dartmouth and Halifax are really parts of one area, for they are on opposite sides of Halifax Harbor, less than a mile apart.

With reference to the observations made in Halifax and Dartmouth, I wish to add that the number of indefinite observations received or learned of was very great. In the presence of a very considerable number of definite observations from that area, it was not thought best to make use of these indefinite ones, but a very fair idea of their nature and extent was gained through conversations, intentional and accidental, and through newspaper reports. After considering the matter carefully, I am of the opinion that a conservative estimate would place the number of adults who, during the winter of 1917-18, saw Robins in Dartmouth or Halifax at forty per cent of the resident adult population of all classes in the two communities. As scarcely any of these people were intentionally looking for Robins, this would indicate a degree of abundance extremely high for the time of year.

Mr. A. Scott Dawson, in his letter of February 13 concerning the large flock of Robins reported by him as remaining for some time near his residence at Pictou, says, “They spend the most of their time on the willows, and are picking at the bark; no doubt they are getting insects, etc., there. They also visit the haw bushes and the holly, as they eat both haws and berries.” Those seen by Mr. Wm. McNeil at Loganville on February 8 are said to have been seeking food on a manure pile. Mrs. H. T. Holmes reports that the two Robins seen by her at Amherst on February 16 “were busily picking among some hay in search of food.” Rev. T. A. Rodger states that those seen by him in Sydney were fed by his children with crumbs, and Mr. Frank Little, writing from Brookfield on March 25, says, “ ... this one [winter] between January 20 and February 6 we fed from our back door two Robins and a flock of nine Pine Grosbeaks. It was very cold here then and both came daily between those dates.” Several of the birds seen by me were in hawthorn trees, and were feeding on the fruit, which hung on the trees in considerable quantities. The two Robins seen by me at Dartmouth on February 1 were hunting along the upper edge of a low, sandy bank, where some plants of the upland cranberry remained uncovered by the snow. When I examined these plants, a few minutes later, I could find no fruit upon them. On February 12 I saw one Robin in a mountain ash tree, planted for ornamental purposes, but it flew from the tree at my approach. There was no fruit remaining on that tree.

In several instances it was reported that the Robins were as bright and as lively as in the springtime, but the birds seen by other observers were stated to be slow and stupid, as though weak or numb. Miss Dorothy Hurtley, in a letter dated February 20, says of a Robin seen in Amherst on January 28, “I thought I could catch it, as it was stupid with cold, but it evaded me by flying a little way ahead of me.” Nearly all the Robins which I saw appeared to be very loth to move, and when finally “flushed” their flight was slow, short, and uncertain. Besides the killing of some Robins at Yarmouth by an owl, two instances of Robins dying were reported. In a letter dated February 19, Mrs. H. T. Holmes says of Robins recently seen by her at Amherst, “One, while flying, seemed to falter and flutter to the ground. Hoping to revive it, it was brought in, but soon died, possibly starved.” Miss Bertha Fullerton, of Pugwash, states, in a letter dated February 26, “My sister is one of the teachers here, and one morning when she went to school there was a frozen Robin on her desk. Likely some of the boys had put it there.”

In order to present as clearly and briefly as possible the fluctuations in the number of Robins reported as observed at different times during the past winter, and to facilitate comparison with the local meteorological conditions at any part of that season, I have prepared three graphs, which are shown herewith. They cover the time from December 2, 1917, to March 16, 1918. The [upper graph] indicates, as closely as possible, the number of Robins reported to me as seen in Nova Scotia in each week of that period. The [second graph] shows the total number of inches of snowfall at Halifax for each week of the time considered, and the [third graph] presents the weekly averages of the daily minimum temperatures (Fahr.) at Halifax. To facilitate comparison, this last graph has been inverted, so that lower temperature is represented in the same way as is heavier snowfall or a greater abundance of Robins. For the data used in preparing the two lower graphs I am indebted to Mr. Fred P. Ronnan, official meteorological observer at Halifax.

From the [first graph] it is readily apparent that few Robins were noted in the province prior to the middle of January. After that time the number seen increased rapidly, reaching its maximum about February 1, and decreasing a little more gradually until about February 20, after which date few Robins were seen. On account of the scarcity of observers, before mentioned, this line does not show the total number of Robins which were present about the inhabited parts of Nova Scotia in any week, nor can its relation to such total numbers be readily determined. It does serve, however, as a moderately correct indicator of the relative abundance of the Robins about the inhabited parts of the province in one week as compared with another.

The [graph indicating the weekly snowfall] appears as a line of abrupt changes and sharp angles, showing that the variation in the snowfall from week to week was very marked. Somewhat contrary to expectation, no relation between this line and the Robin graph appears to be traceable. It is possible that, if the average depth of snow on the ground in each week could be depicted graphically, the line thus formed would show more direct relation to the weekly abundance of Robins, but, unfortunately, no data from which such a graph could be prepared are available.

The [temperature graph] appears to correspond very well with the slopes of the Robin graph, especially in the part of the winter prior to February 20. A period of low temperature in the week ending January 5 is found to correspond with a noticeable increase in the number of Robins reported, while higher temperature during the week ending January 12 accompanies a decrease in the number of Robins seen. From January 12 to February 2 increasingly lower average temperatures are contemporaneous with an increasing abundance of Robins observed, and the extremes of both graphs are reached in the same week. In the week ending February 9 both lines fall slightly lower, and in the next week there is a very considerable decline in both. From that time on the relationship appears less close, for a reason hereinafter stated. Such a close correspondence between the two lines as has been pointed out, however, seems most unlikely to be wholly fortuitous, and would appear to indicate that temperature is a greater factor than had been supposed in causing these birds to seek the neighborhood of man.

The question as to why these Robins were so commonly observed in Nova Scotia last winter is one which at present does not seem to be capable of definite answer, for too many of the possible contributory causes are unknown. Some efforts toward a solution of the problem are, however, here submitted.

In the first place, it would appear fair to presume that these Robins were not, as was popularly supposed, misguided arrivals from the south at an unusually early date. It seems probable that they had remained in Nova Scotia, or in regions still further north, from the time of the fall migration until the time when they were seen here. The fact that few were seen between December 1 and the middle of January is explainable by the supposition that during that time they were living in the deep woods, miles from any human being except an occasional Indian or a gang of lumbermen, and that they were then more widely scattered. In the woods at that time large quantities of juniper berries and mountain ash berries would be available for their food supply.

Whether more Robins than usual remained in Nova Scotia in this way last fall seems an open question. Mr. R. W. Tufts, of Wolfville, N. S., in a letter dated February 13, 1918, which was published in the Halifax “Morning Chronicle” of February 15, gives it as his opinion that there was no unusual number of Robins in the province last winter. He attributes the great number of Robins seen in the province at that season solely to the fact that the snowfall was heavier than usual, which, he says, covered the juniper bushes which supplied the Robins with most of their usual winter food, and so forced them to seek sustenance in the inhabited areas of the province, where they were more easily observed. In opposition to this theory it should be noted that the snowfall of last winter, though heavy, was not of a record-breaking character, while I am informed by Mr. Harry Piers, Curator of the Nova Scotia Provincial Museum, and a veteran Nova Scotian ornithologist, that the abundance of Robin observations during the winter of 1917-18 is, so far as is shown by his records or memory, absolutely without parallel. I have experienced some difficulty in obtaining records of snowfall for years other than the more recent ones, but the monthly snowfalls at Halifax for the winter of 1904-05, for instance, compare with those of the winter of 1917-18 as follows.

Although the totals for the two winters are practically alike, yet it will be observed that by February 1, 1918, after a snowfall of 48.5 inches in December, 1917, and January, 1918, Robins were observed as fairly common throughout Nova Scotia, whereas a snowfall of 72.2 inches in December, 1904, and January, 1905, appears to have caused no unusual observations of Robins in the province, nor is there record, so far as I can discover, of any larger number of these birds than usual being seen here at any time that winter. These facts would seem to tend to show either that in the winter of 1917-18 an unusual number of Robins did remain in this part of Canada, or that their appearance in the settled parts of the country was due to other causes than the heavy snowfall, or that both of these hypotheses are true.

It has been suggested to me by Prof. E. C. Allen, of Truro, N. S., that many of the Robins seen in Nova Scotia this winter may have spent the first part of the winter outside of this province, in the neighboring, wilder regions to the northward. In proposing this theory he says, “Granting that scattered Robins do remain [in winter] in regions north of Nova Scotia (a fact concerning which I have no evidence), would not the continued cold weather tend to drive them south, and, owing to the contour of the coast, might they not hesitate to cross the water south of us in winter, and therefore be more or less congested here?... It might be argued that Robins would not hesitate to cross the Atlantic strip of water south of us, as many thousands do cross in the fall. On the other hand, might it not be possible that in winter the migratory instinct might not be sufficiently strong to carry them straight out to sea over rough water?” There is need of data from New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Newfoundland concerning winter Robins to throw additional light on this interesting theory.

If the number of Robins which remained here last winter was greater than usual, the cause of this condition is wholly problematical. I have not had such opportunities as I desire for observing the abundance of juniper berries and mountain ash berries in the wilder parts of Nova Scotia last fall or this spring, but no unusual abundance or scarcity of Robin food has been revealed by such observations as I have been able to make. It may be that the migratory instinct failed last fall in a greater number of Robins than usual, and thus more of them were influenced to remain here, or it may be that subtle meteorological forces caused a change in the migration of some of these birds.

It has already been noted that low temperatures seem to have accompanied the appearance of the Robins. In what way the temperature may have caused the Robins to seek the inhabited districts I cannot say, unless it might be by temporarily congealing the surface of swampy and springy areas, which ordinarily remain open in winter weather, and from which the Robins may have obtained food when the rest of the country was covered with snow. Further investigation appears to be much needed here. While considering temperature, it is worthy of note that the past winter was exceptional for one other thing besides the unusual numbers of Robins seen—that is, for its long, unbroken periods of low temperature. A direct relation between these two phenomena may be suggested. In other parts of northern North America this low temperature seems to have caused an unusual scarcity of winter birds, but that was not the case here.

After February 25, although the weather remained severe, there appear to have been no observations of Robins in the province until the arrival of the first spring migrants, noted at Halifax on March 26. This may be due to the birds’ having finally left us for a more congenial climate, but I am strongly inclined to believe that it was caused by the destruction of practically all the Robins in the province, their last available supplies of food having been exhausted. This would account for the disagreement between the Robin graph and the temperature graph after February 20. Although only two dead Robins, other than those killed by an owl, were reported, yet scarcely more than this would be expected, since most of the birds would probably die in out-of-the-way places, and would soon be covered by snow or devoured by animals.

It is hoped that the facts and suggestions here presented may throw some light on the subject of winter Robins and perhaps help to point out some new lines of inquiry, so that before long additional observations and investigations may make the full truth of the matter clear. The observations of the winter of 1917-18 were unusual, but it is often by a study of the unusual that the usual is understood.

REMARKS ON BEEBE’S ‘TROPICAL WILD LIFE.’

BY THOMAS E. PENARD.

In a previous number of ‘The Auk’ (1918, XXXV, p. 91), Dr. Witmer Stone reviewed briefly this interesting volume published by the New York Zoölogical Society, presenting the first season’s work at the tropical research station, established in British Guiana under the direction of Mr. William Beebe. The results obtained by Mr. Beebe and his associates are of such interest and importance, and the work in general so deserving of the reviewer’s praise, that I feel rather reluctant in offering a few slight corrections. My observations are not intended as criticisms, and I would hardly have thought it worth while to express them, were it not for the fact that the very excellence and authoritative character of Mr. Beebe’s book might perhaps have the effect of creating a few misleading impressions in regard to some minor matters with which it deals.

In Chapter VIII Mr. Beebe gives a list of the birds of the Bartica District, in which, for the sake of completeness, he includes some species collected by Whitely at the same place, and listed by Salvin in ‘The Ibis’ for 1885 and 1886. Twenty-two species are starred to indicate that they are new to the Colony of British Guiana. Of this number, however, at least eighteen have been previously recorded from various localities in the Colony as follows:

Columba plumbea plumbea Vieillot. Listed by Salvin (Ibis, 1886, p. 173) from Bartica Grove and Camacusa. Percival (Birds of the Botanic Gardens, 1893, Argosy reprint, p. 6) says that it is “unfrequent in Gardens, though a common species.” Dawson (Hand-list of the Birds of British Guiana, 1916, p. 51) lists it as a Colonial species. Some of these records may, however, apply to Œnœnas purpureotincta (Ridgway). The form inhabiting British Guiana is Œnœnas plumbea locutrix (Max.).

Ibycter americanus (Boddaert). Bonson (P. Z. S., 1851, p. 56) records it from Br. Guiana under the name of “Red-headed Carracarra.” It is listed by Salvin (l. c., 1886, p. 77) from Bartica Grove and Camacusa; by Quelch (Timehri, 1890, p. 102 and p. 334) from Demerara Falls and Upper Berbice; by Chubb (The Birds of British Guiana, 1916, i., p. 216, McConnell coll.) from Kamakabra River, etc., giving range in Br. Guiana; and by Dawson (l. c., p. 7).

Urochroma batavica (Boddaert). —Lloyd (Timehri, 1895, p. 272, sub nom. Urochroma cingulata) mentions it as formerly very plentiful in the neighborhood of “Groete Creek,” and (l. c., p. 278) gives local range as Essequibo River and N. W. District; F. P. and A. P. Penard (De Vögels van Guyana, 1908, i, p. 523) say these birds are not unfrequently seen in Surinam and Demerara during the Dry Season; Chubb (l. c., p. 336, sub nom. Touit batavica) records specimens from Supenaam River and other localities, and gives range in Br. Guiana; and Dawson (l. c., p. 20) lists it as the “Black-winged Parakeet.”

Ceryle americana americana (Gmelin). Recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1886, p. 60) from Bartica Grove and other localities; by Sharpe (Cat. Birds Br. Mus., 1892, xvii, p. 139) from Demerara River; by Chubb (l. c., p. 348) from Bonasika River, etc., giving range in Br. Guiana; and by Dawson (l. c., p. 16).

Cypseloides fumigatus Streubel. —F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1910, ii, p. 95) state that there are specimens in the Georgetown Museum, and Dawson (l. c., p. 34) lists it as a Colonial species.

Tapera nævia (Linné).—Schomburgk (Reis. 1848, iii., p. 713, sub nom. Diplopterus galeritus) says that it is abundant in coast regions. Quelch (Timehri, 1891, p. 95; Reprint, p. 27) speaks of it as common in Georgetown; and Percival (l. c., p. 9) states that its frequent plaintive note “Wife-sick” is one of the most familiar garden sounds. It has also been recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1886, p. 64) from Bartica Grove and Roraima; by Shelley (Cat. Birds Br. Mus., 1891, xix, p. 423) from Georgetown; by Chubb (l. c., p. 443) from Ituribisi River, etc., giving range in Br. Guiana; and by Dawson (l. c., p. 23). The Br. Guiana form stands, Tapera nævia nævia (Linné).

Pteroglossus aracari aracari (Linné). —Schomburgk (l. c., p. 720) states that the species is tolerably abundant in Br. Guiana. It has been recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1886, p. 65) from Bartica Grove; by Sclater (Cat. Birds Br. Mus. 1891, xix, p. 138) from Demerara; by Chubb (l. c., p. 458, sub nom. Pteroglossus roraimæ) from Roraima etc., giving range in Br. Guiana; and by Dawson (l. c., p. 22). The form inhabiting Br. Guiana is P. a. atricollis (P. L. S. Müller)—see Bangs and Penard (Bull. M. C. Z., 1918, p. 55).

Chloronerpes rubiginosus (Swainson). —Schomburgk (l. c., p. 715) says he found it throughout Br. Guiana. It has been recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1886, p. 59) from Bartica Grove, Merumé Mountains, and Roraima; by Chubb (l. c., p. 483) from Anarika River, etc., giving range in Br. Guiana; and by Dawson (l. c., p. 24).

Thamnophilus amazonicus Sclater. —Schomburgk (l. c., p. 687) states that it inhabits the low bushes of the coast woods. It has been recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1885, p. 423) from Bartica Grove and Camacusa; by Sclater (Cat. Birds Br. Mus., 1890, xv, p. 199) from Takutu River (Salvin-Godman coll.); by Quelch (Animal Life in Br. Guiana, 1901, p. 182); and by Dawson (l. c., p. 26), who stars the species, indicating that there are no representatives in the Museum at Georgetown. All these authors, except Sclater, refer to this species as Thamnophilus ruficollis [= amazonicus ♀].

Dysithamnus schistaceus (d’Orbigny). F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1910, ii, p. 308) state that there are specimens in the Museum at Georgetown. Dawson (l. c., p. 26)lists it as a Colonial species.

Automolus infuscatus Sclater. —Recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1885, p. 420, sub nom. Automolus sclateri), from Bartica Grove, stating that the specimens are rather smaller than those from the type locality, with faint indication of striation on the throat; and by Sclater (Cat. Birds Br. Mus. 1890, xv, p. 95, sub nom. Automolus sclateri) from Camacusa and Bartica Grove. Automolus sclateri (Pelzeln) is a pure synonym of Automolus infuscatus Sclater, having been proposed by Pelzeln (Orn. Bras., 1867, i. p. 41) on the assumption that the name Automolus infuscatus was preoccupied by Anabates infuscatus Bonaparte, which, however, proves to be a nomen nudum (Cf. Hellmayr, Nov. Zool., 1905, xii, p. 279). Mr. Beebe lists both infuscatus and cervicalis, apparently considering them two distinct species, the former only being starred as new to the Colony. Hellmayr (Nov. Zool., 1906, xiii, p. 335) says that “the specimens of Automolus sclateri from British Guiana in the British Museum are absolutely identical with the type of P. cervicalis,” and states that the type of P. cervicalis is an immature bird. He lists the Guiana form, which differs from true infuscatus, as Automolus infuscatus cervicalis (Sclater), type locality “Camacusa and Bartica Grove.”

Apparently, then, records of A. infuscatus, A. sclateri, and A. cervicalis, in Br. Guiana, apply to the same bird.

Sclerurus rufigularis Pelzeln. —Hellmayr (Nov. Zool., 1906, xiii, p. 364) mentions an immature bird from Takutu River, Br. Guiana, and says (l. c., p. 365) that there is a specimen in the British Museum collected by Whitely at Bartica Grove. He also says that the Br. Guiana Museum has a ♂ from Ourumee.

Xiphorhynchus guttatoides (Lafresnaye). The form guttatoides of Colombia, is a subspecies of Xiphorhynchus guttatus Lichtenstein, of which the race inhabiting Br. Guiana is X. g. sororius (Berlepsch and Hartert), type locality Perico, Orinoco River. Berlepsch and Hartert (Nov. Zool., 1902, ix, p. 63), who originally described this form as Dendrornis rostripallens sororia, mention a specimen from Quonja, Br. Guiana, coll. Whitely, agreeing with birds from Perico. Schomburgk (l. c., p. 690, sub nom. Dendrocolaptes guttatus) says he found it throughout Br. Guiana; Salvin (l. c., 1885, p. 422), referring to it as Dendrornis guttatoides, records a specimen from Bartica Grove; and Dawson (l. c., p. 29) lists it under the same name. Quelch (Animal Life in Br. Guiana, 1901, p. 177), speaking of Dendrornis pardalotus and Dendrornis guttatoides, says that one or both of these species will invariably be found in collections made in the forest districts.

Elænia guianensis Berlepsch.—The type locality of this species is Camacusa, British Guiana. It has been recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1885, p. 295) as Elainea elegans, from Bartica Grove, Camacusa, etc.; by Sclater (Cat. Birds Br. Mus., 1888, xiv, p. 150) as Elainea gaimardi, from Roraima; and by Dawson (l. c., p. 13) as Myiopagis gaimardi. The Br. Guiana form now stands, Myiopagis gaimardii guianensis (Berlepsch).

Empidochanes fuscatus cabanisi Léotaud. —Recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1885, p. 297, sub nom. Empidochanes olivus) from Bartica Grove; and by Sclater (Cat. Birds Br. Mus., 1888, xiv, p. 224, sub nom. Empidonax oliva), who states that this is the northern form of E. bimaculatus (d’Orb. and Lafr.), adding that he was doubtful whether it was really entitled to the name oliva. The type locality of cabanisi is Trinidad. The form inhabiting Cayenne is Empidochanes fuscatus fumosus Berlepsch, to which we suppose the Surinam bird also belongs.

Riparia riparia (Linné). -Recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1885, p. 206) as Cotile riparia, from Bartica Grove.

Sporophila bouvronides (Lesson). —Brabourne and Chubb (Birds of South America, 1912, i, p. 367) refer S. ocellata (Scl. and Salv.) to this species, and give the type locality Trinidad. References to S. ocellata in Guiana probably apply to the same bird which Mr. Beebe had in hand. Mr. Beebe also lists S. lineola (Linn.). Sharpe (Cat. Birds Br. Mus., 1888, xii, p. 130) lists S. ocellata from Carimang River, Br. Guiana. Dawson (l. c., p. 48) mentions both ocellata and lineola.

Thraupis palmarum palmarum (Wied). Schomburgk (l. c., p. 670, sub nom. Tanagra olivascens) states that it is abundant at the coast. It has been recorded by Salvin (l. c., 1885, p. 210) from Bartica Grove and Roraima; by Quelch (Timehri, 1891, p. 81; Reprint, p. 13) who says it is common in Georgetown, mentioning the species again later (Animal Life in Br. Guiana, 1901, p. 113); by Price (Timehri, 1891, p. 63) who describes the eggs; by Percival (l. c., p. 16) who states that it is “not very often seen in the Gardens, though common among the innumerable cocoanut palms in and about town,” where the writer also has seen it; and by Dawson (l. c., p. 46; and Timehri, 1911, p. 272). The type locality of palmarum is Bahia, and judging from material examined, I would say that birds from Cayenne, Surinam, and Br. Guiana, differ distinctly from true palmarum, and are more nearly allied to, if not indistinguishable from, the Eastern Peruvian race, Thraupis palmarum melanoptera (Sclater).

Saucerottia erythronota (Lesson). —With reference to this species also marked with a star, we do not find in Mr. Beebe’s list Agyrtrina fimbriata fimbriata (Gmelin), which is common in Br. Guiana, and which has been recorded from Bartica by Chubb (l. c., p. 395). This bird has sometimes been confused with Saucerottia erythronota (Cf. Salvin, Cat. Birds Br. Mus., 1892, xvi, p. 187) and has been listed from Bartica by Salvin (Ibis, 1885, p. 435) under the name Agyrtrina tobaci of which erythronota, type locality Trinidad, is a subspecies.

A longer stay at Bartica, no doubt would have augmented Mr. Beebe’s list considerably. For instance, Mr. Chubb, in his work on the birds of British Guiana, records twenty-seven species in the McConnell Collection, which are not included in Mr. Beebe’s list.

In Chapter XIII we find an account of the author’s ornithological discoveries, pertaining mostly to nests and eggs, with excellent photographic illustrations. Some of these discoveries, however, are by no means entirely new, reliable information on nests and eggs having been published in regard to at least twelve of the seventeen species discussed. Attention is called to the following records:

Chæmepelia talpacoti (Temminck and Knip). —Dalgleish (Proc. Roy. Phys. Soc. Edinburgh, 1889, x, p. 86) describes two nests, each containing two eggs, found Nov. 20, 1886, in Paraguay. Nehrkorn (Kat. Eiersamm, 1899, p. 184) lists eggs from Paraguay, 23 × 18 mm. Euler (Rev. Mus. Paulista, 1900, iv, p. 98) describes nests and eggs, 22.5 × 18 mm. Ihering (Rev. Mus. Paulista, 1900, iv, p. 282) describes nest and eggs, and says that he found a nest built upon the deserted nest of another bird, containing two eggs, 22 × 17 mm. F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1908, i, p. 340) describe habits, nests, and eggs under C. rufipennis, assuming talpacoti and rufipennis identical in Surinam, judging from specimens which had been identified for them in England as rufipennis. Apparently there is some confusion here, and the bird identified as rufipennis was probably the newly described Chæmepelia arthuri Bangs and Penard, (Bull. M. C. Z. 1917, p. 45).

Geotrygon [= Oreopelia] montana (Linné). —Eggs listed by Nehrkorn (l. c., p. 186) from Rio Grande, Mexico, and Porto Rico, brownish, 27 × 21 mm. F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1908, i, p. 347) say that the nest is very much like that of Leptoptila, placed on low branches of trees and in bushes; eggs, short-elliptical, brownish cream-color, 27 × 21.5 mm.; breeds in the Dry Season. Site, nest, and eggs, have also been described by Lawrence (Proc. U. S. N. M., 1879, i, p. 276), by Wells (Ibid., 1887, p. 625), and by Scott (Auk, 1892, ix, p. 124, quoting Taylor).

Porzana albicollis (Vieillot). —Nehrkorn (l. c., p. 202) describes eggs from Surinam, meas. 35 × 26 mm. Ihering (l. c., p. 286) describes eggs received from Iguape, meas. 35-26 × 27-28; he says that the eggs described by Euler (l. c., p. 102) undoubtedly belong to another species. F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1908, i, p. 206) describe habits, site, nest, and eggs, meas. 35 × 27 mm.

Creciscus viridis (P. L. S. Müller). —Nehrkorn (l. c., p. 203) describes eggs from “Guyana,” meas. 32 × 23 mm. F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1908, i, p. 210) describe habits, nest, and site fully; eggs two, rarely three, usually oval, pure white, almost without gloss, meas. 32 × 26 mm.; they say further that the eggs do not vary much, some having a few black-brown spots at the large end; in the nests are often found infertile and abnormal eggs.

Caprimulgus [= Nyctipolus] nigrescens Cabanis.—Nehrkorn (l. c., p. 156) lists eggs from Amazonia, meas. 23.5 × 18.5 mm. F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1910, ii, p. 78) describe eggs, one or two, barely glossy, elliptical, pale yellowish-rose, distinctly spotted and blotched with chocolate-brown and purple-gray, meas. 25 × 18.5 mm. The eggs described by Schomburgk (l. c., p. 711) must have belonged to another species.

Empidonomus varius varius (Vieillot). —Mr. Beebe (l. c., p. 225) states that “although the eggs of this species have been collected no description of the nest has been given.” We would call attention to description of a nest by Ihering (Rev. Mus. Paulista, 1914, ix, p. 443 and p. 482); the nest was collected by Garbe near Joazeiro, Bahia, in November, 1913.

Pipra aureola aureola (Linné). —F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1910, ii, p. 188) describe site and nest fully, giving measurements; the eggs are described as two, dull brownish gray, with numerous dark-brown spots, streaks, and dots, over the entire surface, but usually, on one of the eggs of a clutch, forming a wreath at the middle; meas. 21 × 15.5 mm.

Cyanerpes cyaneus cyaneus (Linné). —F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1910, ii, p. 475) say that the nests and eggs, 20 × 14 mm., do not differ much from those of C. cærulea, under which name they give full descriptions of nests and eggs. The eggs are described as two in number, oval, almost without gloss, black or purplish black-brown. The nest is described as made of little black roots, pear-shaped or shoe-shaped, with entrance low down at the side, measuring 16 cm. high and 9 cm. across, suspended like the nest of Todirostrum from twigs two to five feet from ground. J. A. Allen (Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., 1891, iii, p. 348) under the name Arbelorhina cyanea describes an egg collected by H. H. Smith, “taken with parents, Oct. 13, 1882,” in Matto Grosso, Brazil, but judging from the description, it must have belonged to some other species.

Under the general heading of “Seed eaters” Mr. Beebe (l. c., p. 237), speaking of Oryzoborus angolensis brevirostris, Oryzoborus crassirostris, and Sporophila castaneiventris, says, “Familiarity breeds contempt. There could be no truer saying than where these little finches were concerned. In spite of diligent search through all the few reports and excerpts on the subject, no description of the home or eggs of these birds could be found, and yet, in April and May, their nests were everywhere.” H. Lloyd Price, in his paper on “The Nests and Eggs of some common Guiana Birds” (Timehri, 1891, p. 64), says in a general way, “Various species of small finches or grass birds (Spermophila, etc.), build tiny nests in the long grass growing at the sides of the trenches; they are generally made of dry grass, and occasionally of dry sticks. The eggs, two in number, are of a grayish white spotted with either red, brown or grey, and of various sizes.” Much more definite information in regard to the breeding habits, nests, and eggs of the seed-eaters will be found in the works of F. P. and A. P. Penard, Ihering, Euler, and Nehrkorn. We would call attention to the following accounts pertaining to the species mentioned by Mr. Beebe:

Oryzoborus angolensis brevirostris Berlepsch. —Nehrkorn (l. c., p. 105) describes eggs from Brazil. Ihering (Rev. Mus. Paulista, 1900, iv, p. 213) describes nest and eggs. F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1910, ii, p. 388) says that the nest is smaller than that of O. crassirostris; the eggs are fully described. All these authors deal with this species under the name O. torridus.

Sporophila castaneiventris Cabanis. —Nehrkorn (l. c., p. 105) describes eggs from Amazonia. F. P. and A. P. Penard (l. c., 1910, ii, p. 389) describe habits, nest, and eggs fully. They add the following interesting remarks (translated): “The examples vary very much in form and color as well as in measurements. In many the markings form a distinct wreath about the larger end, others being uniformly covered with gray-brown or brown. Those with wreathed ends are usually of a more oval shape than the evenly covered eggs, but both types are often found together in the same nest. It is thought [by the natives] that the more pointed egg hatches the male, and the browner egg the female. Eggs of a more spherical shape are less common with this species than with the next [S. minuta].”