Chapter XIV: Part 14

Since his sphere of activity is so limited, we may proceed at once to the main interest, that of nest-building. And this is precisely as the Marsh Wren would have it, else why does he spend the livelong day making extra nests, which are of no possible use to anyone, save as examples of Telmatodytine architecture? It is possible that the female is coquettish, and requires these many mansions as evidence that the ardent swain will be able to support her becomingly after marriage. Or, it may be, that the suitor delights to afford his lady love a wide range of choice in the matter of homes, and seeks thus to drive her to the inevitable conclusion that there is only one home-maker for her. However this may be, it is certain that one sometimes finds a considerable group of nest-balls, each of apparent suitability, before any are occupied.

On the other hand, the male continues his harmless activities long after his mate has selected one of his early efforts and deposited her eggs; so that the oölogist may have to sample a dozen “cock’s nests,” or decoys, before the right one is found. Some empty nests may be perfectly finished, but others are apt to lack the soft lining; while still others, not having received the close-pressed interstitial filling, will be sodden from the last rains.

The Marsh Wren’s nest is a compact ball of vegetable materials, lashed midway of cat-tails or bulrushes, living or dead, and having a neat entrance hole in one side. A considerable variety of materials is used in construction, but in any given nest only one textile substance will preponderate. Dead cat-tail leaves may be employed, in which case the numerous loopholes will be filled with matted down from the same plant. Fine dry grasses may be utilized, and these so closely woven as practically to exclude the rain. On Moses Lake, where rankly growing bulrushes predominate in the nesting areas, spirogyra is the material most largely used. This, the familiar, scum-like plant which masses under water in quiet places, is plucked out by the venturesome birds in great wet hanks and plastered about the nest until the required thickness is attained. While wet, the substance matches its surroundings admirably, but as it dries out it shrinks considerably and fades to a sickly light green, or greenish gray, which advertises itself among the obstinately green bulrushes. Where this fashion prevails, one finds it possible to pick out immediately the oldest member of the group, and it is more than likely to prove the occupied nest.

The nest-linings are of the softest cat-tail down, feathers of wild fowl, or dried spirogyra teased to a point of enduring fluffiness. It appears, also, that the Wrens often cover their eggs upon leaving the nest. Thus, in one we found on the 17th of May, which contained seven eggs, the eggs were completely buried under a loose blanket of soft vegetable fibers. The nest was by no means deserted, for the eggs were warm and the mother bird very solicitous, insomuch that she repeatedly ventured within a foot of my hand while I was engaged with the nest.

The Marsh Wrens regard themselves as the rightful owners of the reedy fastnesses which they occupy, and are evidently jealous of avian, as well as human, intruders. In one instance a Wren had constructed a sham nest hard against a completed structure of the Yellow-headed Blackbird, and to the evident retirement of its owner. Another had built squarely on top of a handsome Blackbird nest of the current season’s construction, and with a spiteful purpose all too evident.

No. 117.
TULE WREN.

A. O. U. No. 725 a. Telmatodytes palustris paludicola (Baird).

Synonyms.—Marsh Wren (locally). Western Marsh Wren (now restricted to
_T. p. plesius_). California Marsh Wren (inappropriate). Pacific Marsh
Wren.

Description.—_Adult_: Similar to _T. p. plesius_, but smaller and with
coloration decidedly darker. Length about 4.75 (120.6); wing 1.97
(50); tail 1.73 (44); bill .52 (13.2); tarsus .78 (20).

Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; brownish coloration; reed-haunting
habits and sputtering notes distinctive.

Nesting.—_Nest_: shaped like a cocoanut, of reeds and grasses, lined
with plant-down, and with entrance in side; placed two or three feet
high in reeds, rarely, high in bushes of swamp. _Eggs_: 5 or 6,
ground-color grayish brown but so heavily dotted and clouded with
varying shades of chocolate and mahogany as to be frequently obscured.
Av. size .67 × .52 (17 × 13.2). _Season_: _last week in March_ to
July; two broods.

General Range.—Pacific Coast district from British Columbia south
during migration to mouth of Colorado River and extremity of Lower
California.

Range in Washington.—Resident in suitable localities west of Cascades.

Authorities.—_Cistothorus (Telmatodytes) palustris_ Cab. Baird, Rep.
Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II., 1858, p. 364, part. C&S. L². Ra. Kk. B.
E.

Specimens.—U. of W. E. Prov.

When the February sun waves his golden baton over the marshes of western Washington, they yield up a chorus of wren song which is exceeded only by that of the frogs. The frogs, to be sure, have the advantage, in that their choral offering has greater carrying power; but the Wrens at close quarters leave you in no doubt that the palm belongs to them. One hesitates to call the medley of clicking, buzzing, and sputtering, which welters in the reeds, music; but if one succeeds in catching sight of a Tulé Wren, holding on for dear life to a cat-tail stem, and vibrating like a drill-chuck with the effort of his impassioned utterance, he feels sure that music is at least intended.

Wrens are ever busy bodies, and if they could not sing or chatter, or at least scold, they surely would explode. It is a marvel, too, that they find so much to interest them in mere reeds, now green, now brown, set above a foot or so of stagnant water. But, bless you! Do not waste your sympathies upon them. They have neighbors,—Red-wings, Yellow-throats, and the like—and is it not the gossips of the little village who are most exercised over their neighbors’ affairs?

It seems probable that our Tulé Wrens are largely resident. Certainly they are abundant in the more sheltered marshes in winter; and, since the species does not extend very far northward, it is possibly not too much to assume that our birds live and die in a single swamp. They are, as a consequence, very much mixed up on their seasons, and I have heard a swamp in full song in November.

Nesting in the South Tacoma swamp, where several scores at least may be found, begins the last week in March, and full sets of eggs may certainly be found by the first week in April. But “decoys” are, of course, the rule. In a day Mr. Bowles found fifty-three nests, only three of which held eggs or young. At least two broods are raised in a season.

The eggs, usually five or six in number, are so overlaid with tiny dots as to appear of an almost uniform hair brown in color, very dark, except occasionally in the case of the last laid egg. The sitting bird must subject her eggs to frequent turning in the nest, for they become highly polished during incubation.

No. 118.
SEATTLE WREN.

A. O. U. No. 719 e. Thryomanes bewickii calophonus Oberholser.

Description.—_Adults_: Above, dark olive-brown, or warm sepia brown
with an olive tinge; the rump with downy, concealed, white spots;
wings showing at least traces of dusky barring,—sometimes complete on
tertials; tail blackish on concealed portions, distinctly and finely
barred with black on exposed portions; the outer pairs of feathers
white-tipped and showing white barring, incipient or complete on
terminal third; a narrow white superciliary stripe, and an indistinct
dark stripe thru eye; underparts grayish white, tinged on sides and
flanks with brown; under tail-coverts heavily barred with blackish;
bill dark brown above, lighter below; culmen slightly decurved.
Length: 5.00-5.50 (127-139.7); wing 2.08 (52.8); tail 2.01 (52.3);
bill .59 (15); tarsus .79 (20).

Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; known from Western House Wren by
superciliary stripe and whiter underparts, mostly unbarred; a little
larger and more deliberate in movements.

Nesting.—_Nest_: in holes or crannies about stumps, upturned roots,
brush-heaps, etc., or in buildings; a rather slight affair of dried
grasses, skeleton leaves, mosses, and waste, rarely twigs, lined with
wool, hair, or feathers. _Eggs_: 4-6, usually 5, white, speckled or
spotted, rather sparingly, with reddish brown or purplish, uniformly
or chiefly in wreath about larger end. Av. size, .68 × .54 (17.3 ×
13.7). _Season_: April 15-June 15; two broods.

General Range.—Pacific Coast district from Oregon to southern British
Columbia and Vancouver Island; resident.

Range in Washington.—Resident west of the Cascades, chiefly at lower
levels and in valleys.

Authorities.—? Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 154
(Columbia River). _Thriothorus bewickii_ Baird, Pac. Rep. R. R. Surv.
IX. 1858, p. 363 part. (T). (C&S). L². Rh. Kb. Ra. Kk. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov. B. BN. E.

To those who are acquainted only with the typical Bewick Wren of the East, the added vocal accomplishments of our western representative come in the nature of a surprise. For to the characteristic ditty of _bewickii_ proper, _calophonus_ has introduced so many trills and flourishes that the original motif is almost lost to sight. _Calophonus_ means having a beautiful voice, or sweetly sounding, and right well does the bird deserve the name, in a region which is all too conspicuous for its lack of notable songsters.

Nor was it at all amiss for Professor Ridgway, the eminent ornithologist of Washington, D. C., to name this bird in honor of the Queen City, for it is in the immediate environs of the city, as well as in the untidy wastes of half-conquered nature, that the local Bewick Wren finds a congenial home. Logged-off tracts, slashings and burned-over areas are, however, its especial delight, and if the bird-man catches sight of one that has been making the rounds of all the fire-blackened stumps in the neighborhood, he is ready to declare a new sub-species on the strength of the bird’s soiled garments. No junk dealer knows the alleys of the metropolis better than this crafty bird knows the byways of his log-heaps and the intricate mazes of fire-weed and fern. If there is any unusual appearance or noise which gives promise of mischief afoot, the Seattle Wren is the first to respond. Flitting, gliding, tittering, the bird comes up and moves about the center of commotion, taking observations from all possible angles and making a running commentary thereon. His attitude is alert and his movements vivacious, but the chief interest attaches to the bird’s mobile tail. With this expressive member the bird is able to converse in a vigorous sign language. It is cocked up in impudence, wagged in defiance, set aslant in coquetry, or depressed in whimsical token of humility. Indeed, it is hardly too much to say that the bird makes faces with its tail.

While spying along the lower levels the Wren giggles and chuckles and titters, or else gives vent to a grating cry, _moozeerp_, which sets the woods on edge. But in song the bird oftenest chooses an elevated station, an alder sapling or the top of a stump. Here, at short intervals and in most energetic fashion, he delivers extended phrases of varied notes, now clear and sparkling, now slurred or pedalled. Above all, he is master of a set of smart trills. One of them, after three preliminary notes, runs _tsu′ tsu′ tsu′ tsu′ tsu′ tsu′_, like an exaggerated and beautified song of the Towhee. Another song, which from its rollicking character deserves to be called a drinking song, terminates with a brilliant trill in descending scale, _rallentando et diminuendo_, as tho the little minstrel were actually draining a beaker of dew.

The Seattle Wren is altogether a hilarious personage; and in a country where most song birds are overawed by the solemnity of the forest, it is well enough to have one cheery wight to set all canons at defiance. Even the gray-bearded old fir-stubs must laugh at a time over some of the sallies of this restless little zany. The Wren does not indulge in conscious mimicry, but since his art is self-taught, he is occasionally indebted to the companions of the woods for a theme. The Towhee motif is not uncommon in his songs, and the supposed notes of a Willow Goldfinch, a little off color, were traced to his door, at Blaine.

Of the nesting Mr. Bowles says: “The building sites chosen by this wren for its nests are so variable that hardly anything can be considered typical. It may be in the wildest swampy wood far removed from civilization, but it is quite as likely to be found in a house in the heart of a city. A few of the nesting sites I have recorded are in upturned roots of fallen trees, deserted woodpecker holes, in bird boxes in the city, in a fishing creel hanging on a porch, under a slab of bark that has scaled away a few inches from the body of a tree, or an open nest built on a beam under a bridge.

“A very complete study of this wren has convinced me that it never builds any nests except those used in raising the young. In other words, it is the only wren in the Northwest that is positively guiltless of using ‘decoys’.

“In constructing the nest these birds do not often take over ten days, in which proceeding the female does all the work. One pair, however, that I visited occasionally, were over a month in completing a small nest in the natural cavity of a stump. No explanation of this seems possible, except that the female was not ready to lay her eggs any sooner.

“The nest is a rather slight affair, as a rule, the average nest containing much less material than that of any other wren that I have seen. It is composed of fine dried grass, skeleton leaves, green moss, wool, and very rarely has a basis of twigs, with a lining of hair, the cast skins of snakes, and many feathers.

“A set contains from four to six eggs, most commonly five. These are pure white in ground color, marked with fine dots of reddish brown. The markings are variable in distribution, some specimens being marked very sparingly over all, while in others the markings are largely concentrated around the larger end in the form of a more or less confluent ring. The eggs are rather short ovate oval in shape, and average in measurements .68 × .54 inches.

“Two broods are reared in a season; or perhaps it would be more correct to say that fresh eggs may be found at any time between the middle of April and the middle of June.

“Altho rather timid in the vicinity of her nest, the female generally remains on her eggs until disturbed by a jar or some loud noise. She then disappears and neither bird appears nor makes any complaint in objection to the intruder.”

No. 119.
WESTERN HOUSE WREN.

A. O. U. No. 721 a. Troglodytes aedon parkmanii (Aud.).

Synonyms.—Parkman’s Wren. Pacific House Wren.

Description.—_Adult_: Above, grayish rufous-brown, duller and lighter
on foreparts; brighter and more rufous on rump, which has concealed
downy white spots; back and scapulars barred (rarely indistinctly)
with dusky; wings on exposed webs and tail all over distinctly and
finely dusky-barred; sides of head speckled grayish brown, without
definite pattern; below, light grayish brown, indistinctly speckled or
banded with darker brownish on fore-parts; heavily speckled and banded
with dusky and whitish on flanks and crissum; bill black above,
lighter below; culmen slightly curved; feet brownish. Length 4.50-5.25
(114.3-133.3); wing 2.08 (52.8); tail 1.75 (44.6); bill .51 (13);
tarsus .68 (17.2).

Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; brown above, lighter below;
everywhere more or less speckled and banded with dusky, brownish, or
white. Larger and with longer tail than Western Winter Wren.

Nesting.—_Nest_: of sticks and trash, lined with fine grasses or
chicken-feathers, placed in bird-boxes, holes in orchard trees,
crannies of out-buildings, etc. _Eggs_: 4-8, white, heavily speckled,
and usually more or less tinged with pinkish brown or vinaceous, with
a wreath of a heavier shade about the larger end. Average size, .64 ×
.51 (16.3 × 13). _Season_: About May 15; one brood.

General Range.—Western United States and Canada, north to British
Columbia, Alberta and Manitoba, east to Illinois, south to Mexico.

Range in Washington.—Not common summer resident, confined to lower
altitudes and, usually, vicinity of settlements.

Migrations.—_Spring_: Tacoma, April 25, 1906, April 28, 1907.

Authorities.—_? Troglodites fulvus_ Ornithological Committee, Journ.
Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, p. 193 (Columbia River). _?
Troglodytes parkmanii_ Audubon, Orn. Biog. V. 1839, 310 (Columbia
River). _Troglodytes parkmanni_, Aud., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.
XII. pt. II. 1858, p. 368. (T.) C&S. D¹. Ra. D². Ss². Kk. J. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. P. B.

Since our country is pretty well supplied with Wrens, and those too which are content with our climate the year around, this bustling down-Easter, arriving at what he considers the proper season, does not figure so largely in local bird society as across the Rockies. Altho originally described by Audubon from material secured by Townsend, at Vancouver, in the Thirties, _parkmanii_ gives evidence of being a newcomer, comparatively speaking. In the first place, the late arrival, April 25th at Puget Sound points, marks the species in which the tradition of a hard climate is still strong. And, in the second place, the slightly paler plumage acquired while crossing the desert has not yet been lost, altho it is very certain that it could not long withstand consecutive centuries of residence in our humid climate. It is not surprising, therefore, that the House Wren is not abundant nor well distributed in western Washington. On the East-side it is neither common nor rare, being found about long-established ranches and wherever the presence of a little timber affords the variety of cover which is essential to its happiness.

Once upon the scene, however, a little House Wren goes a great ways. He is bursting with energy, and music escapes from his busy mandibles like steam from a safety valve. The first task is to renovate last year’s quarters, but there is always time on the side to explore a new brush-heap, to scold a cat, or to indulge innumerable song-bursts. In singing his joyous trill the bird reminds one of a piece of fireworks called a “cascade,” for he fills the air with a brilliant bouquet of music, and is himself, one would think, nearly consumed by the violence of the effort. But the next moment the singer is carrying out last year’s feather bed by great beakfuls, or lugging into some cranny sticks ridiculously large for him.

During the nesting season both birds are perfect little spitfires, assaulting mischievous prowlers with a fearlessness which knows no caution, and scolding in a voice which expresses the deepest scorn. The rasping note produced on such an occasion reminds one of the energetic use of a nutmeg grater by a determined housewife.

In nesting, the Wrens make free of the haunts of men, but are in nowise dependent on them. Old cabins afford convenient crannies, forgotten augur-holes, tin cans, bird boxes, a sleeve or pocket in an old coat hanging in the woodshed,—anything with a cavity will do; but, by the same token, an unused Woodpecker’s hole, or a knot-hole in a stump miles from the haunts of men will do as well. In any case the cavity, be it big or little, must first be filled up with sticks, with just room at the top for entrance. Into this mass a deep hollow is sunk, and this is heavily lined with horse-hair, wool, feathers, bits of snake-skin, anything soft and “comfy”.

Since the Western House Wren makes a brief season with us, it appears to raise but one brood annually.

No. 120.
WESTERN WINTER WREN.

A. O. U. No. 722 a. Nannus hiemalis pacificus (Baird).

Description.—_Adult_: Above warm dark brown, duller before, brighter
on rump, sometimes obscurely waved or barred with dusky on back,
wings, and tail; barring more distinct on edges of four or five outer
primaries, where alternating with buffy; concealed white spots on rump
scarce, or almost wanting; a pale brownish superciliary line; sides of
head speckled brownish and buffy; underparts everywhere finely
mottled, speckled or barred,—on the throat and breast mingled brownish
(Isabella-color) and buffy, below dusky and tawny, dusky predominating
over brown on flanks and crissum; bill comparatively short, straight,
blackish above, lighter below; feet light brown. Length about 4.00
(101.6); wing 1.81 (46); tail 1.18 (30); bill .46 (11.6); tarsus .71
(18).

Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; dark brown above, lighter below; more
or less speckled and barred all over; tail shorter than in preceding
species.

Nesting.—_Nest_: of moss and a few small twigs, lined heavily with
wool, rabbits’ fur, hair and feathers, placed among roots of upturned
tree, or in crannies of decayed stumps, brush-heaps, etc. _Eggs_: 4-7,
usually 5, white or creamy-white, dotted finely but sparingly with
reddish brown; occasionally blotched with the same; sometimes almost
unmarked. Av. size .69 × .50 (17.5 × 12.7). _Season_: first week in
April to first week in July according to altitude: two broods.

General Range.—Western North America, breeding from southern
California to southern Alaska, east to western Montana. Chiefly
resident, but south irregularly in Great Basin States and California
in winter.

Range in Washington.—Resident in coniferous timber from sea level to
limit of trees; less common east of the Cascade Mountains; of
irregular occurrence in open country during migrations.

Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. (1814) Ed. Biddle: Coues. Vol.
II, p. 186.] ? Orn. Com. Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 193
(Columbia River). _Troglodytes (Anorthura) hyemalis_ Baird, Rep. Pac.
R. R. Surv. IX. 1858, p. 369. (T). C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹. Kb. Ra. Kk. J. B.
E.

Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov. B. BN. E.

_Chick—chick chick—chick chick_; it is the Winter Wren’s way of saying How-do-you-do? when you invade his domain in the damp forest. The voice is a size too large for such a mite of a bird, and one does not understand its circumflexed quality until he sees its possessor making an emphatic curtsey with each uttereance. It is not every day that the recluse beholds a man, and it may be that he has stolen a march under cover of the ferns and salal brush before touching off his little mine of interrogatives at your knees. If so, his brusque little being is softened by a friendly twinkle, as he notes your surprise and then darts back chuckling to the cover of a fallen log.

Again, if your entrance into the woods has been unnoticed, so that the little huntsman comes upon you in the regular way of business, it is amusing to watch with what ruses of circumvention he seeks to inspect you. Now he appears above a root on your right gawking on tiptoe; then drops at a flash behind its shelter to reprove himself in upbraiding _chick chick_’s for his rashness. Then, after a minute of apprehensive silence on your part, a chuckle at your other elbow announces that the inspection is satisfactorily completed on that side. The Lilliputian has you at his mercy, Mr. Gulliver.

Dr. Cooper, writing fifty years ago, considered this the commonest species in the forests of “the Territory.” With the possible exception of the Golden-crowned Kinglet, this is probably still true, since it is found not merely along streams and in romantic dells, but thruout the somber depths of the fir and spruce forests from sea level to the limit of trees. It is fond of the wilderness and has as yet learned no necessity of dependence upon man, but it by no means shuns the edges of town, if only sufficient density of cover be provided. Because of the more open character of pine timber, the Winter Wren is less common and is altogether local in its distribution east of the mountains, being confined for the most part to those forest areas which boast an infusion of fir and tamarack.

In winter, because of heavy snows, the birds appear to retire to a large extent upon the valleys and lowlands, nor do they appear to reoccupy the mountain forests until they have reared a first brood upon the lower levels. Just how familiar a species this bird is at sea-level does not appear to be generally realized. In the spring of 1905 I estimated that forty pairs were nesting in Ravenna Park alone. Nor do they by any means desert the lowlands in toto in summer, for they are seen regularly at that season thruout Puget Sound, upon the islands of Washington Sound, and upon the West Coast.

It is the Winter Wren, chiefly, which gladdens the depths of the ancient forest with music. Partly because of its unique isolation, but more because of the joyous abandon of the little singer, the song of the Winter Wren strikes the bird-lover as being one of the most refreshing in the Northwest. It consists of a rapid series of gurgling notes and wanton trills, not very loud nor of great variety, but having all the spontaneity of bubbling water, a tiny cascade of song in a waste of silence. The song comes always as an outburst, as tho some mechanical obstruction had given way before the pent-up music. Indeed, one bird I heard at Moclips preceded his song with a series of tittering notes, which struck me absurdly as being the clicking of the ratchet in a music-box being wound up for action.

Heard at close quarters the bird will occasionally employ a ventriloquial trick, dropping suddenly to _sotto voce_, so that the song appears to come from a distance. Again, it will move crescendo and diminuendo, as tho the supply pipe of this musical cascade were submitted to varying pressure at the fountain head.

A singing bird is the best evidence available of the proximity of the nest. Usually the male bird posts himself near the sitting female and publishes his domestic happiness in musical numbers. But again, he may only be pausing to congratulate himself upon the successful completion of another decoy, and the case is hopeless for the nonce.

For nesting sites the Wrens avail themselves of cubby-holes and crannies in upturned roots or fallen logs, and fire-holes in half-burned stumps. A favorite situation is one of the crevices which occur in a large fir tree when it falls and splits open. Or the nest is sometimes found under the bark of a decaying log, or in a crevice of earth in an unused mine-shaft. If the site selected has a wide entrance, this is walled up by the nesting material and only a smooth round aperture an inch and a quarter in diameter is left to admit to the nest proper. In default of any such shelter, birds have been known to construct their nests at the center of some baby fir, or in the drooping branches of a fir tree at a height of a foot or more from the ground. In such case, the nest is finished to the shape of a cocoanut, with an entrance hole in the side a little above the center.

In all cases the materials used are substantially the same, chiefly green moss, with an abundance of fir or cedar twigs shot thru its walls and foundations. This shell is heavily lined with very fine mosses, intermingled with deer hair or other soft substances; while the inner lining is of feathers, which the Sooty and the Ruffed Grouse have largely contributed to the upholstered luxury of this model home.

“Cocks’ nests,” or decoys, are the favorite diversion of this indefatigable bird, so that, as with the restless activities of four-year-old children, one sighs to think of the prodigious waste of energies entailed. The aboriginal cause of this quaint instinct, so prevalent among the Wrens, would seem to be the desire to deceive and discourage enemies, but in the case of the Winter Wren one is led to suspect that the hard-working husband is trying to meet a perpetual challenge to occupy all available sites—a miser hoarding opportunities. A troop of young Wrens just out of the nest is a cunning sight. The anxious parents counsel flight and the more circumspect of the brood obey, but now and then one less sophisticated allows a little pleasant talk, “blarney,” to quiet his beating heart. Then a little titillation of the crown feathers will quite win him over, so that he will accept a gently insistent finger in place of the twig which has been his support. The unfaltering trust of childhood has subdued many a savage heart, but when it is exemplified in a baby Wren one feels the ultimate appeal to tenderness.

Mr. Brown, of Glacier, coming upon an old Russet-backed Thrush nest at dusk, thrust an exploratory finger over its brim. Judge of his surprise when out swarmed seven young Winter Wrens. Mr. Brown feels reasonably sure, however, that the birds were hatched elsewhere, and that they were only roosting temporarily in the larger nest, in view of its ampler accommodations.

No. 121.
ROCK WREN.

A. O. U. No. 715. Salpinctes obsoletus (Say).

Description.—_Adults_: Above brownish gray changing on rump to
cinnamon-brown, most of the surface speckled by arrow-shaped marks
containing, or contiguous to, rounded spots of whitish; wing-quills
color of back, barred with dusky on outer webs; middle pair of
tail-feathers color of back barred with dusky; remaining rectrices
barred with dusky on outer webs only, each with broad subterminal bar
of blackish and tipped broadly with cinnamon-buff area varied by dusky
marbling; outermost pair broadly blackish- and cinnamon-barred on both
webs; a superciliary stripe of whitish; a broad post-ocular stripe of
grayish brown; sides of head and underparts dull white shading into
pale cinnamon or vinaceous buff on flanks and under tail-coverts;
sides of head, throat and upper breast spotted, mottled or streaked
obscurely with grayish brown or dusky; under tail-coverts barred or
transversely spotted with dusky. Bill dark horn-color above, paling
below; feet and legs brownish dusky; iris brown. _Young birds_ are
more or less barred or vermiculated above, without white speckling,
and are unmarked below. Length: 5.50-6.00 (139.7-152.4); wing 2.76
(70); tail 2.09 (53); bill .70 (17.7); tarsus .83 (21).

Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; variegated tail with broad buffy tips
distinctive; rock-haunting habits.

Nesting.—_Nest_: in crannies of cliffs, of twigs, grasses, wool, hair
and other soft substances, approached by runway of rock-chips or
pebbles. _Eggs_: 5-7, white or pinkish white, sprinkled somewhat
sparingly with pale cinnamon, chiefly about larger end. Av. size .73 ×
.56 (18.5 × 14.2). _Season_: May 1st to June 20th; two broods.

General Range.—Western United States, northern and central Mexico, and
southern British Columbia, chiefly in hilly districts; eastward across
Great Plains to Kansas, Nebraska, etc.; retires from northern portion
of range in winter.

Range in Washington.—Summer resident and migrant in open country east
of the Cascades, chiefly confined to cliffs of Columbian lava; casual
west of the Cascades.

Authorities.—[“Rock wren,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885), p.
22.] Lawrence, Auk, IX. 1892, 47, 357. T. L¹. D¹. D². Ss¹. Ss². Kk.

Specimens.—P. C.

“But Barrenness, Loneliness, such-like things,
That gall and grate on the White Man’s nerves,
Was the rangers that camped by the bitter springs
And guarded the lines of God’s reserves.
So the folks all shy from the desert land,
’Cept mebbe a few that kin understand.”—_Clark._

A discerning soul is _Salpinctes_. He loves beyond all else the uplifted ramparts of basalt, the bare lean battlements of the wilderness. They are the walls of a sanctuary, where he is both verger and choir master, while upon the scarred altars which they shelter, his faithful spouse has a place “where she may lay her young.”

The Rock Wren is nestled among the most impressive surroundings, but there is nothing subdued or melancholy about his bearing. Indeed, he has taken a commission to wake the old hills and to keep the shades of eld from brooding too heavily upon them. His song is, therefore, one of the sprightliest, most musical, and resonant to be heard in the entire West. The rock-wall makes an admirable sounding-board, and the bird stops midway of whatever task to sing a hymn of wildest exultation. _Whittier, whittier, whittier_, is one of his finest strains; while _ka-whee, ka-whee, ka-whee_ is a sort of challenge which the bird renders in various tempo, and punctuates with nervous bobs to enforce attention. For the rest his notes are too varied, spontaneous, and untrammeled to admit of precise description.

Save in the vicinity of his nest, the Rock Wren is rather an elusive sprite. If you clamber to his haunts he will remove, as matter of course, a hundred yards along the cliff; or he will flit across the couleé with a nonchalance which discourages further effort. Left to himself, however, he may whimsically return—near enough perhaps for you to catch the click, click of his tiny claws as he goes over the lava blocks, poking into crevices after spiders here, nibbling larvæ in vapor holes there, or scaling sheer heights yonder, without a thought of vertigo.

At nesting time the cliffs present a thousand chinks and hidey-holes, any one of which would do to put a nest in. The collector is likely to be dismayed at the wealth of possibilities before him, and the birds themselves appear to regret that they must make choice of a single cranny, for they “fix up” half a dozen of the likeliest. And when it comes to lining the approaches of the chosen cavity, what do you suppose they use? Why, rocks, of course; not large ones this time, but flakes and pebbles of basalt, which rattle pleasantly every time the bird goes in and out. These rock chips are sometimes an inch or more in diameter, and it is difficult to conceive how a bird with such a delicate beak can compass their removal. Here they are, however, to the quantity of half a pint or more, and they are just as much a necessity to every well-regulated Salpinctean household, as marble steps are to Philadelphians.

The nest itself is rather a bulky affair, composed of weed-stalks, dried grasses, and fine rootlets, with a scanty lining of hair or wool (all East-side birds are enthusiastic advocates of sheep-raising). “Two broods are raised in a season, the first set of eggs appearing early in May, the second about the middle of June. It is possible that even a third set may sometimes be laid still later in the season, but these late sets are more apt to be due to the breaking up of the first or second. The eggs vary from five to seven, and are pure white in color, sprinkled rather sparingly over the surface with dots of a faint brownish red, most heavily about the larger end” (Bowles).

Failing a suitable cliff-house—not all walls are built to Wrens’ orders—the birds resort to a rock-slide and the possibilities here are infinite. After I had seen a devoted pair disappear behind a certain small rock no less than a dozen times, and had heard responsive notes in different keys, a chittering which reminded one of baby Katydids, I thought I had a cinch on the nest. The crevices of the rocks here and there were crammed with dried grass and stuff which might fairly be considered superfluous nesting material, and the young birds were too young to have traveled far; but as for the actual cradle I could not find it, and I cannot certify that the wrenlets were hatched within seven rods. The little fellows were as shy as conies, but their parents, curiously enough, took my researches good naturedly. One of them came within two feet of my face and peered intently at me as I sat motionless; and even after some square yards of the rock slide had been violently disarranged, they did not hesitate to visit their clamoring brood as tho nothing had happened. Did they trust the man or the rocks rather?

No. 122.
CANYON WREN.

A. O. U. No. 717 a. Catherpes mexicanus conspersus Ridgw.

Synonyms.—Canon Wren. Speckled Canon Wren.

Description.—_Adult_: “Upperparts brown, paler and grayer anteriorly,
behind shading insensibly into rich rufous, everywhere dotted with
small dusky and whitish spots. Tail clear cinnamon-brown, crossed with
numerous very narrow and mostly zigzag black bars. Wing-quills dark
brown, outer webs of primaries and both webs of inner secondaries
barred with color of back. Chin, throat, and fore breast, with lower
half of side of head and neck, pure white, shading behind through
ochraceous-brown into rich deep ferruginous, and posteriorly
obsoletely waved with dusky and whitish. Bill slate-colored, paler and
more livid below; feet black; iris brown” (Coues). Length about 5.50
(139.7); wing 2.35 (59.7); tail 2.06 (52.4); bill .81 (20.5); tarsus
.71 (18.1). Female a little smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Warbler size, rock-haunting habits; rich rusty red
of hinder underparts; tail finely barred with black, its feathers
without buffy tips as distinguished from _Salpinctes obsoletus_.

Nesting.—Not known to nest in Washington but probably does so. _Nest_
and _eggs_ indistinguishable from those of the Rock Wren.

General Range.—Central arid districts of the western United States and
southern British Columbia from Wyoming and Colorado west to
northeastern California and south to Arizona.

Range in Washington.—Reported from Palouse country only,—is probably
extending range into Upper Sonoran and Arid Transition zones of
eastern Washington.

Authorities.—_C. mexicanus punctulatus_, Snodgrass, Auk. Vol. XXI.
Apr. 1904, p. 232. J.

Specimens.—P.

To Mr. Robert E. Snodgrass belongs the honor of first reporting this species as a bird of Washington. He encountered it in the Snake River Cañon at Almota in the summer of 1903, and mentions that it occurred also at Wawawai Ferry, a few miles up the river. Roswell H. Johnson also refers to it casually in the preface to his list of the birds of Cheney[47] as occurring “where conditions were favorable to the south and east.”

It has long been supposed that the Cañon Wrens were confined to a much more southern range. Ridgway[48] assigns the northern limits of this species to Wyoming and Nevada. Its appearance in Washington, therefore, is matter of congratulation and may, perhaps, be taken as an instance of that _northward trend of species_ which undoubtedly affects many of the Passerine forms, and none more notably than the Wrens.

The Cañon Wren frequents much the same situations as the Rock Wren and has the same sprightly ways. In the southern part of its range it is said to be a familiar resident of towns, and nests as frequently in crannies and bird-boxes as does our House Wren (_Troglodytes aedon parkmanii_). Its alarm note is a “peculiarly ringing _dink_,” and its song is said to excel, if possible, that of the House Wren. “What joyous notes! * * * His song comes tripping down the scale growing so fast it seems as if the songster could only stop by giving his odd little flourish back up the scale again at the end. The ordinary song has seven descending notes, but often, as if out of pure exuberance of happiness, the Wren begins with a run of grace notes, ending with the same little flourish. The rare character of the song is its rhapsody and the rich vibrant quality which has suggested the name of bugler for him—and a glorious little bugler he surely is” (Mrs. Bailey).

_Mimidæ_—The Mockingbirds

No. 123.
SAGE THRASHER.

A. O. U. No. 702. Oroscoptes montanus Townsend.

Synonyms.—Sage Mocker. Mountain Mocking-bird (early name—inapropos).

Description.—_Adults_: General plumage ashy brown, lighter below;
above grayish- or ashy-brown, the feathers, especially on crown,
streaked mesially with darker brown; wings and tail dark grayish brown
with paler edgings; middle and greater coverts narrowly tipped with
whitish, producing two dull bars; outer rectrices broadly tipped with
white, decreasing in area, till vanishing on central pair; lores
grayish; a pale superciliary line; cheeks brownish varied by white;
underparts whitish tinged with buffy brown, most strongly on flanks
and crissum, everywhere (save, usually, on throat, lower belly, and
under tail-coverts) streaked with dusky, the streaks tending to
confluence along side of throat, sharply distinguished and
wedge-shaped on breast, where also heaviest; bill blackish paling on
mandible; legs and feet dusky brownish, the latter with yellow soles;
iris lemon-yellow. _Young_ birds are browner and more decidedly
streaked above; less distinctly streaked below. Length about 8.00
(203); wing 3.82 (97); tail 3.54 (90); bill .65 (16.4); tarsus 1.20
(30.5).

Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; ashy-brown plumage appearing nearly
uniform at distance; sage-haunting habits; impetuous song.

Nesting.—_Nest_, a substantial structure of thorny twigs (_Sarcobatus_
preferred), usually slightly domed, with a heavy inner cup of fine
bark (sage) strips, placed without attempt at concealment in sage-bush
or greasewood. _Eggs_, 4 or 5, rich, dark, bluish green, heavily
spotted or blotched with rich rufous and “egg-gray”—among the
handsomest. Av. size, .98 × .71 (24.9 × 18). _Season_: May 1-June 15;
two (?) broods.

General Range.—Western United States from western part of the Great
Plains (western South Dakota, western Nebraska, and eastern Colorado)
north to Montana, west to the Cascades and Sierra Nevada, south into
New Mexico, Lower California, and, casually, to Guadalupe Island.

Range in Washington.—Treeless portions of East-side; summer resident.

Authorities.—[“Sage Thrasher,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885),
p. 22.] Dawson, Wilson Bulletin, No. 39, June, 1902, p. 67. (T). D².
Ss¹. Ss².

Specimens.—U. of W. P. C.

It takes a poet to appreciate the desert. Those people who affect to despise the sage are the same to whom stones are stones instead of compacted histories of the world’s youth, and clouds are clouds instead of legions of angels. It is no mark of genius then to despise common things. The desert has cradled more of the world’s good men and great than ever were coddled in king’s palaces. Whistler used to paint “symphonies in gray” and men held back questioning, “Er—is this art?” A few, bolder than their fellows, pronounced favorably upon it, and it is allowable now to admit that Whistler was a great artist—that is, a great discoverer and revealer of Nature.

Nature has painted upon our eastern hills a symphony in gray greens, a canvas of artemisia, simple, ample, insistent. And still the people stand before it hesitating—it is so common—is it considered beautiful, pray? Well, at least a bird thinks so, a bird whose whole life has been spent in the sage. Listen! The hour is sunrise. As we face the east, heavy shadows still huddle about us and blend with the ill-defined realities. The stretching sage-tops tremble with oblation before the expectant sun. The pale dews are taking counsel for flight, but the opalescent haze, pregnant with sunfire, yet tender with cool greens and subtle azures, hovers over the altar waiting the concomitance of the morning hymn before ascent. Suddenly, from a distant sage-bush bursts a geyser of song, a torrent of tuneful waters, gushing, as it would seem, from the bowels of the wilderness in an ecstacy of greeting and gratitude and praise. It is from the throat of the Sage Thrasher, poet of the bitter weed, that the tumult comes. Himself but a gray shadow, scarce visible in the early light, he pours out his soul and the soul of the sage in a rhapsody of holy joy. Impetuous, impassioned, compelling, rises this matchless music of the desert. To the silence of the gray-green canvas, beautiful but incomplete, has come the throb and thrill of life,—life brimful, delirious, exultant. The freshness and the gladness of it touch the soul as with a magic. The heart of the listener glows, his veins tingle, his face beams. He cannot wait to analyze. He must dance and shout for joy. The wine of the wilderness is henceforth in his veins, and drunk with ecstacy he reels across the enchanted scene forever more.

And all this inspiration the bird draws from common sage and the rising of the common sun. How does he do it? I do not know. Ask Homer, Milton, Keats.

No. 124.
CATBIRD.

A. O. U. No. 704. Dumetella carolinensis (Linn.).

Description.—_Adult_: Slate-color, lightening almost imperceptibly
below; black on top of head and on tail; under tail-coverts chestnut,
sometimes spotted with slaty; bill and feet black. Length 8.00-9.35
(203.2-237.5); wing 3.59 (91.2); tail 3.65 (92.7); bill .62 (15.8).

Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; almost uniform slaty coloration with
thicket-haunting habits distinctive; lithe and slender as compared
with Water Ouzel.

Nesting.—_Nest_, of twigs, weed-stalks, vegetable fibers, and trash,
carefully lined with fine rootlets, placed at indifferent heights in
bushes or thickets. _Eggs_, 4-5, deep emerald-green, glossy. Av. size,
.95 × .69 (24.1 × 17.5). _Season_, first two weeks in June; one brood.

General Range.—Eastern United States and British Provinces, west
regularly to and including the Rocky Mountains, irregularly to the
Pacific Coast from British Columbia to central California. Breeds from
the Gulf States northward to the Saskatchewan. Winters in the southern
states, Cuba, and middle America to Panama. Bermuda, resident.
Accidental in Europe.

Range in Washington.—Summer resident; not uncommon but locally
distributed in eastern and especially northeastern Washington;
penetrates deepest mountain valleys on eastern slope of Cascades, and
is regularly established in certain West-side valleys connected by low
passes. Casual at Seattle, and elsewhere at sea-level.

Authorities.—_Galeoscoptes carolinensis_, Belding, Land Birds of the
Pacific District (1890), p. 226 (Walla Walla by J. W. Williams, 1885).
D¹. Ss¹. Ss². J.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. P. C.

Those who hold either a good or a bad opinion of the Catbird are one-sided in their judgment. Two, and not less than two, opinions are possible of one and the same bird. He is both imp and angel, a “feathered Mephistopheles” and “a heavenly singer.” But this is far from saying that the bird lives a double life in the sense ordinarily understood, for in the same minute he is grave, gay, pensive and clownish. Nature made him both a wag and a poet, and it is no wonder if the roguishness and high philosophy become inextricably entangled. One moment he steps forth before you as sleek as Beau Brummel, graceful, polished, equal-eyed; then he cocks his head to one side and squints at you like a thief; next he hangs his head, droops wings and tail, and looks like a dog being lectured for killing sheep;—Presto, change! the bird pulls himself up to an extravagant height and with exaggerated gruffness, croaks out, “Who are you?” Then without waiting for an answer to his impudent question, the rascal sneaks off thru the bushes, hugging every feather close to his body, delivering a running fire of cat-calls, squawks, and expressions of contempt. There is no accounting for him; he is an irrepressible—and a genius.

The Catbird is not common in Washington, save in the northeastern portion of the State, where it is well established. Miss Jennie V. Getty finds them regularly at North Bend, and there is a Seattle record; so that there is reason to believe that the Catbird is one of those few species which are extending their range by encroachment from neighboring territory. There can be no question that civilization is conducive to the bird’s welfare, primarily by increasing the quantity of its cover on the East-side, and, possibly, by reducing it on the West. Catbirds, when at home, are found in thickets and in loose shrubbery. River-banks are lined with them, and chaparral-covered hillsides have their share; but they also display a decided preference for the vicinage of man, and, if allowed to, will frequent the orchards and the raspberry bushes. They help themselves pretty freely to the fruit of the latter, but their services in insect-eating compensate for their keep, a hundred-fold. Nests are placed almost anywhere at moderate heights, but thickety places are preferred, and the wild rosebush is acknowledged to be the ideal spot. The birds exhibit the greatest distress when their nest is disturbed, and the entire neighborhood is aroused to expressions of sympathy by their pitiful cries.

My friend, Dr. James Ball Naylor, of Malta, Ohio, tells the following story in answer to the oft-repeated question, Do animals reason? The poet’s house nestles against the base of a wooded hill and looks out upon a spacious well-kept lawn which is studded with elm trees. The place is famous for birds and the neighborhood is equally famous for cats. Robins occasionally venture to glean angle worms upon the inviting expanses of this lawn, but for a bird to attempt to cross it unaided by wing would be to invite destruction as in the case of a lone soldier climbing San Juan hill. One day, however, a fledgling Catbird, overweening and disobedient, we fear, fell from its nest overhead and sat helpless on the dreaded slopes. The parents were beside themselves with anxiety. The birdie could not fly and would not flutter to any purpose. There was no enemy in sight but it was only by the sufferance of fate, and moments were precious. In the midst of it all the mother disappeared and returned presently with a fat green worm, which she held up to baby at a foot’s remove. Baby hopped and floundered forward to the juicy morsel, but when he had covered the first foot, the dainty was still six inches away. Mama promised it to him with a flood of encouragement for every effort, but as often as the infant advanced the mother retreated, renewing her blandishments. In this way she coaxed her baby across the lawn and up, twig by twig, to the top of an osage-orange hedge which bounded it. Here, according to Dr. Naylor, she fed her child the worm.

Comparing the scolding and call notes of the Catbird with the mewing of a cat has perhaps been a little overdone, but the likeness is strong enough to lodge in the mind and to fasten the bird’s “trivial name” upon it forever. Besides a mellow _phut, phut_ in the bush, the bird has an aggravating _mee-a-a_, and a petulant call note which is nothing less than _Ma-a-ry_. Cautious to a degree and timid, the bird is oftener heard in the depth of the thicket than elsewhere, but he sometimes mounts the tree-top, and the opening “_Phut, phut, coquillicot_”—as Neltje Blanchan hears it—is the promise of a treat.

Generalizations are apt to be inadequate when applied to singers of such brilliant and varied gifts as the Catbird’s. It would be impertinent to say: _Homo sapiens_ has a cultivated voice and produces music of the highest order. Some of us do and some of us do not. Similarly some Catbirds are “self-conscious and affected,” “pause after each phrase to mark its effect upon the audience,” etc. Some lack originality, feeling, are incapable of sustained effort, cannot imitate other birds, etc. But some Catbirds are among the most talented singers known. One such I remember, which, overcome by the charms of a May day sunset, mounted the tip of a pasture elm, and poured forth a hymn of praise in which every voice of woodland and field was laid under contribution. Yet all were suffused by the singer’s own emotion. Oh, how that voice rang out upon the still evening air! The bird sang with true feeling, an artist in every sense, and the delicacy and accuracy of his phrasing must have silenced a much more captious critic than I. Never at a loss for a note, never pausing to ask himself what he should sing next, he went steadily on, now with a phrase from Robin’s song, now with the shrill cry of the Red-headed Woodpecker, each softened and refined as his own infallible musical taste dictated; now and again he interspersed these with bits of his own no less beautiful. The carol of Vireo, the tender ditties of the Song and Vesper Sparrows, and the more pretentious efforts of Grosbeaks, had all impressed themselves upon this musician’s ear, and he repeated them, not slavishly, but with discernment and deep appreciation. As the sun sank lower in the west I left him there, a dull gray bird, with form scarcely outlined against the evening sky, but my soul had taken flight with his—up into that blest abode where all Nature’s voices are blended into one, and all music is praise.

_Cinclidæ_—The Dippers

No. 125.
AMERICAN WATER OUZEL.

A. O. U. No. 701. Cinclus mexicanus unicolor (Bonap.).

Synonym.—American Dipper.

Description.—_Adults in spring and summer_: General plumage slaty gray
paling below; tinged with brown on head and neck; wings and tail
darker, blackish slate; eyelids touched with white; bill black; feet
yellowish. _Adults in fall and winter, and immature_: Feathers of
underparts margined with whitish and some whitish edging on wings;
bill lighter, brownish. _Young_ birds are much lighter below; the
throat is nearly white and the feathers of remaining under plumage are
broadly tipped with white and have wash of rufous posteriorly—tips of
wing-feathers and, occasionally, tail-feathers extensively white; bill
yellow. Length of adult 6.00-7.00 (152-178); wing 3.54 (90); tail 1.97
(50); bill .68 (17.3); tarsus 1.12 (28.5).

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size but _chunky_, giving impression of a
“better” bird. Slaty coloration and water-haunting habits distinctive.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a large ball of green moss lined with fine grasses,
and with entrance on side; lodged among rocks, fallen timber, roots,
etc., near water. _Eggs_: 4 or 5, pure white. Av. size, 1.02 × .70
(25.9 × 17.8). _Season_: April-June; one or two broods.

General Range.—The mountains of western North America from the
northern boundary of Mexico and northern Lower California to northern
Alaska. Resident.