Chapter III: Part 3

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. E. C.

The relative distribution of the Oregon Jay and the more recently distinguished Gray Jay is still very imperfectly understood. It would appear probable that this form is the bird of the rainy district, including all lowlands of western Washington, the Olympic Mountains, and the western slopes of the Cascades, and that it gives place to _P. o. griseus_ not only upon the heights and eastern slopes of the Cascades, but in the deep valleys which penetrate these mountains from the west.

Certainly it is the Oregon Jay which abounds in the Olympic Mountains, and among the dense spruce forests of the adjoining coasts. While the bird is more abundant on the lowlands in winter, the prevalent opinion that the Oregon Jay is exclusively a bird of the mountains is probably incorrect. Altho bold enough where undisturbed, the birds soon learn caution; and their nests have been found near Renton where their presence during the breeding season would otherwise have gone unsuspected. The depths of the forest have no terrors for this quiet ghost, and there are other reasons besides color why he remains _the obscure one_.

No. 14.
GRAY JAY.

A. O. U. No. 485a. Perisoreus obscurus griseus Ridgw.

Synonyms.—Camp Robber, etc.

Description.—“Similar to _P. o. obscurus_, but decidedly larger
(except feet), and coloration much grayer; back, etc., deep mouse
gray, instead of brown, remiges and tail between gray (No. 6) and
smoke gray, instead of drab gray, and under parts grayish white
instead of brownish white.” (Ridgway). Length (Av. of three Glacier
specimens) 11.16 (283.5); wing 5.82 (147.6); tail 5.48 (139.1); bill
.75 (19); tarsus 1.25 (31.7).

General Range.—Central mountain ranges of central California, Oregon,
Washington, and British Columbia.

Range in Washington.—Thruout the Cascade Mountains and irregularly
along their lower slopes west (?) to tidewater.

Authorities.—? _P. canadensis_ Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.,
Vol. IX, pt. II, 1858, p. 591 (Cascade Mts. W. T.). Ridgway, Auk, Vol.
XVI., July, 1899, 225. Kk. ?

The “Camp-Robber” appears promptly as interested neighbor and smell-feast before all who invade the precincts of the mountains. The hunter, the trapper, the prospector, the timber cruiser, the mere camper-out, all know him, and they speak well or ill of him according to their kind. The Gray Jay appears to have forsworn the craftiness of his race, and he wins by an exhibition of artless simplicity, rather than by wiles. The bird is mildly curious and hungry—oh, very hungry—but this is Arcadia, and the shepherds draw nigh with never a doubt of their welcome. There is a childlike insouciance about the way in which the bird annexes a piece of frizzled bacon, humbly intended for the man. “’Shoo,’ did you say? Why, what do you mean? Can’t I have it?” And the bird retires before a flying chip, baffled and injured by such a manifest token of ill-breeding. He complains mildly to his fellows. They discuss the question in gentle _whews_; generously conclude you didn’t mean it, and return unabashed to the quest.

Hunger is the chief characteristic of these docile birds, and no potential food is refused, nuts, acorns, insects, berries, or even, as a last resort, the buds of trees. Meat of any sort has an especial attraction to them; and they are the despair of the trapper because of their propensity for stealing bait. The hunter knows them for arch sycophants, and he is occasionally able to trace a wounded deer, or to locate a carcass by the movements of these expectant heirs. Says Mr. A. W. Anthony[7]: “While dressing deer in the thick timber I have been almost covered with Jays flying down from the neighboring trees. They would settle on my back, head, or shoulders, tugging and pulling at each loose shred of my coat until one would think that their only object was to help me in all ways possible.”

In the higher latitudes “Whisky Jack,” in spite of carefully secreted stores, often becomes very emaciated in winter, a mere bunch of bones and feathers, no heavier than a Redpoll. While the jays of our kindlier clime do not feel so keenly the belly pinch of winter, they have the same thrifty habits as their northern kinfolk. Food is never refused, and a well-stuffed specimen will still carry grub from camp and secrete it in bark-crevice or hollow, against the unknown hour of need.

I have never heard the Gray Jay titter more than a soft cooing _whee ew_ repeated at random; but Bendire credits it with a near approach to song[8]; and Mrs. Bailey says of the Jays on Mt. Hood[9]: “Their notes were pleasantly varied. One call was remarkably like the chirp of a robin. Another of the commonest was a weak and rather complaining cry repeated several times. A sharply contrasting one was a pure clear whistle of one note followed by a three-syllabled call something like _Ka-wé-ah_. The regular rallying cry was still different, a loud and striking two-syllabled _ka-whee_.”

The eggs of the Gray Jay have not yet been reported from this State, but it is known that the bird builds a very substantial nest of twigs, grasses, plant fibre, and mosses without mud, and that it provides a heavy lining of soft gray mosses for the eggs. The nest is usually well concealed in a fir tree, and may be placed at any height from ten or fifteen feet upward, altho usually at sixty or eighty feet. Only one brood is reared in a season, and family groups hunt together until late in the summer.

_Icteridæ_—The Troupials

No. 15.
COWBIRD.

A. O. U. No. 495. Molothrus ater (Bodd.).

Synonyms.—Cow Blackbird. Cuckold.

Description.—_Adult male_: Head and neck wood-, seal-, or coffee-brown
(variable); remaining plumage black with metallic greenish or bluish
iridescence. _Female_: Dark grayish brown, showing slight greenish
reflections, darkest on wings and tail, lightening on breast and
throat. _Young in first plumage_: Like female but lighter below and
more or less streaky; above somewhat mottled by buffy edgings of
feathers. The young males present a striking appearance when they are
assuming the adult black, on the installment plan, by chunks and
blotches. Length 7.50-8.00 (190.5-203.2); wing 4.40 (111.8); tail
3.00-3.40 (76.2-86.4); bill .65 (16.5); tarsus .95-1.10 (24.1-27.9).
Female, length, wing, and tail one-half inch less.

Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; brown head and black body of male;
brown of female.

Nesting.—The Cowbird invariably deposits her eggs in the nests of
other birds. _Eggs_: 1 or 2, rarely 3 or 4, with a single hostess,
white, often faintly tinged with bluish or greenish, evenly speckled
with cinnamon, brown or umber. Av. size, .85 × .65 (21.6 × 16.5), but
quite variable. _Season_: April-June.

General Range.—United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific, north
into southern British America, south in winter, into Mexico.

Range in Washington.—Of limited but regular occurrence east of the
Cascades, increasing; rare or casual in western Washington. Summer
resident.

Authorities.—Bendire, Life Histories of N. A. Birds, Vol. II., p. 434.
D¹. D². Ss². J. B. E.

Specimens.—C. P.

While I was chatting with my host at milking time (at the head of Lake Chelan in the ante-tourist days), a dun-colored bird with light underparts flew down into the corral, and began foraging as tho to the manor born. One by one the cows sniffed at the stranger and nosed it about, following it up curiously. But the bird only side-stepped or walked unconcernedly ahead. When I returned with the gun, a moment later, I found a calf investigating the newcomer, and it was difficult to separate the creature from bossikin’s nose. The date was August 3rd; the bird proved to be a young male Cowbird in the lightest juvenile phase of plumage, a waif cuckold far from any of his kin, but shifting for himself with the nonchalance which characterizes his worthless kind.

If our hero had lived (and I make no apology for his demise in the first act), he would have exchanged his inconspicuous livery for the rich, iridescent black of the adult; and he would have done this on the installment plan, by chunks and blotches, looking the while like a ragpicker, tricked out in cast-off finery.

In the month of March Cowbirds mingle more or less with other blackbirds in the migrations, but if the main flock halts for refreshments and discussion _en route_, a group of these rowdies will hunt up some disreputable female of their own kind, and make tipsy and insulting advances to her along some horizontal limb or fence rail. Taking a position about a foot away from the coy drab, the male will make two or three accelerating hops toward her, then stop suddenly, allowing the impulse of motion to tilt him violently forward and throw his tail up perpendicularly, while at the same moment he spews out the disgusting notes which voice his passion.

Of the mating, Chapman says: “They build no nest, and the females, lacking every moral instinct, leave their companions only long enough to deposit their eggs in the nests of other and smaller birds. I can imagine no sight more strongly suggestive of a thoroly despicable nature than a female Cowbird sneaking thru the trees and bushes in search of a victim upon whom to shift the duties of motherhood.”

The egg, thus surreptitiously placed in another bird’s nest, usually hatches two or three days before those of the foster mother, and the infant Cowbird thus gains an advantage which he is not slow to improve. His loud clamoring for food often drives the old birds to abandon the task of incubation; or if the other eggs are allowed to remain until hatched, the uncouth stranger manages to usurp attention and food supplies, and not infrequently to override or stifle the other occupants of the nest, so that their dead bodies are by-and-by removed to make room for his hogship. It is asserted by some that in the absence of the foster parents the young thug forcibly ejects the rightful heirs from the nest, after the fashion of the Old World Cuckoos. I once found a nest which contained only a lusty Cowbird, while three proper fledgelings clung to the shrubbery below, and one lay dead upon the ground.

When the misplaced tenderness of foster parents has done its utmost for the young upstart, he joins himself to some precious crew of his own blood, and the cycle of a changeling is complete.

While not common anywhere west of the Rockies, the Cowbird is no longer rare east of the Cascades, and it is making its appearance at various points on Puget Sound. The earlier writers make no mention of its occurrence in Washington, and it seems probable that its presence has followed tardily upon the introduction of cattle. Bendire was the first to report it from this State, having taken an egg near Palouse Falls on June 18, 1878, from a nest of the Slate-colored Sparrow (_Passerella iliaca schistacea_).

Its presence among us is, doubtless, often overlooked because of the superficial resemblance which it bears in note and appearance to Brewer’s Blackbird (_Euphagus cyanocephalus_). The note of the former is distinctive,—a shrill, hissing squeak in two tones with an interval of a descending third, uttered with great effort and apparent nausea—honestly, a disgusting sound.

No. 16.
BREWER’S BLACKBIRD.

A. O. U. No. 510. Euphagus cyanocephalus (Wagler).

Description.—_Adult male_: Glossy black with steel blue and violet
reflections on head, with fainter greenish or bronzy reflections
elsewhere; bill and feet black; iris pale lemon yellow or light cream.
_Adult female_: Head and neck all around deep brownish gray with
violet reflections; underparts brownish slate to blackish with faint
greenish iridescence; upperparts blackish, or outright black on wings
and tail, which are glossed with bluish-green; bill and feet as in
male, but iris brown. _Immature males in first winter plumage_
resemble adults but have some edging of pale grayish brown. Length of
adult males: 10.00 (254); wing 5.00 (128); tail 3.90 (99); bill .89
(22.6); tarsus 1.27 (32.3). Adult female: length 9.25 (235); wing 4.60
(117); tail 3.50 (89); bill .79 (20); tarsus 1.20 (30.5).

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; pure black coloration and whitish eye
of male. Larger than Cowbird (_Molothrus ater_) with which alone it is
likely to be confused.

Nesting.—_Nest_: placed at moderate height in bush clump or thicket,
less frequently on ground at base of bush, more rarely in cranny of
cliff or cavity of decayed tree-trunk, a sturdy, tidy structure of
interlaced grasses, strengthened by a matrix of mud or dried cow-dung
and carefully lined with coiled rootlets or horsehair. Nests in
straggling colonies. _Eggs_: 4-7, usually 5 or 6, presenting two
divergent types of coloration with endless variations and intermediate
phases. _Light type_: ground color light gray or greenish gray,
spotted and blotched with brown of varying shades, walnut, russet, and
sepia. (In some examples there is purplish brown scrawling, which
suggests the Redwing type. One egg in the writer’s collection is
indistinguishable from that of a Cowbird, save for size.) _Dark type_:
ground color completely obscured by overlay of fine brown dots
resulting in nearly uniform shade of mummy brown or Vandyke brown. Av.
size 1.03 × .72 (26.2 × 18.3). _Season_: April 20-May 10; one or two
broods.

General Range.—Western North America from the plains to the Pacific,
and from the Saskatchewan region south to the highlands of Mexico to
Oaxaca.

Range in Washington.—Of general distribution thruout the State but
found chiefly in more open situations in vicinity of streams and ponds
and in cultivated sections. Normally migratory but increasingly
resident especially on West-side.

Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814) Ed. Biddle: Coues,
Vol. II. p. 185.] _Scolecophagus mexicanus_, Newberry, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. VI. pt. IV. 1857, p. 86. (T) C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss².
Kk. J. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. B. E. P.

“Blackbirds” are not usually highly esteemed in the East, where the memory of devastated cornfields keeps the wrath of the farmer warm; but if all species were as inoffensive as this confiding pensioner of the West, prejudice would soon vanish. He is a handsome fellow, our Washington grackle, sleek, vivacious, interesting, and serviceable withal. We know him best, perhaps, as an industrious gleaner of pastures, corrals, streets, and “made” lands. He is not only the farmer’s “hired man,” waging increasing warfare against insect life, especially in its noxious larval forms, but he has an accepted place in the economy of city and village as well.

As one approaches a feeding flock, he notes the eagerness with which the birds run forward, or rise and flit past their fellows, now diving at a nimble weevil, now leaping to catch a passing bug, but always pushing on until one perceives a curious rolling effect in the total movement.

As we draw near, some timid individual takes alarm, and instantly all are up, to alight again upon the fence or shrubbery where they clack and whistle, not so much by way of apprehension as thru sheer exuberance of nervous force. As we pass (we must not stop short, for they resent express attention) we note the droll white eyes of the males, as they twist and perk and chirp in friendly impudence; and the snuffy brown heads of the females with their soft hazel irides, as they give a motherly fluff of the feathers, or yawn with impatience over the interrupted meal. When we are fairly by, the most venturesome dives from his perch, and the rest follow by twos and tens, till the ground is again covered by a shifting, chattering band.

Like all Blackbirds, the Brewers are gregarious; but they are somewhat more independent than most, flocks of one or two score being more frequent than those of a hundred. During migrations and in autumnal flocking they associate more or less with Redwings; but, altho they are devoted to the vicinity of water, they care nothing for the fastnesses of reed and rush, which are the delight of Redwing and Yellowhead. Their preference is for more open situations, so that they are most abundant upon the East-side. Here a typical breeding haunt is a strip of willows fringing a swamp; or, better still, a line of dark green thorn-bushes clinging to the bank of the rolling Columbia.

Altho isolated nests may now and then be found, colonies are the rule; and I have found as high as forty nests in a single patch of greenery. There is room, of course, for individual choice of nesting sites, but the community choice is the more striking. Thus, one recalls the greasewood nesting, the rose-briar nesting, the thorn-bush nesting, where all the members of the colony conformed to the locally established rule in nest position. Mr. Bowles records the most remarkable instance of this: One season the nests of the South Tacoma colony were all placed in small bushes, the highest not over four feet from the ground; but in the season following the birds were all found nesting in cavities near the top of some giant fir stubs, none of them less than 150 feet from the ground. On the other hand, in the Usk nesting of 1906, on the placid banks of the Pend d’Oreille, one pair had recessed its nest in a stump at a height of eighteen feet, while three other pairs had sunk theirs into the ground at the base of bushes.

In construction the nest of the Brewer Blackbird varies considerably, but at its best it is quite a handsome affair. Composed externally of twigs, weed-stalks, and grasses, its characteristic feature is an interior mould, or matrix, of dried cow-dung or mud, which gives form and stability to the whole. The lining almost invariably includes fine brown rootlets, but horsehair is also welcomed wherever available.

The eggs of Brewer’s Blackbird are the admiration of oölogists. Ranging in color from clear greenish gray with scattered markings thru denser patterns to nearly uniform umber and chocolate, they are the natural favorites of “series” hunters. The range of variation is, indeed, curious, but it proves to be entirely individual and casual without trace of local or constant differences. Eggs from the same nest are usually uniform in coloration, but even here there is notable diversity. In some instances, after three or four eggs are laid, the pigment gives out, and the remainder of the set is lighter colored. Again, single eggs are heavily pigmented half way, and finished with a clear green ground-color.

Fresh eggs may be taken in the Yakima country during the last week in April, and in one case noted, deposition began on April 14th; but May 1st-15th is the usual rule there and elsewhere. Five eggs is the common set, but six to a clutch is not rare. Of twenty-eight nests examined in Yakima County, May 4, 1906, eleven contained six eggs each; while, of something over two hundred seen altogether, two nests contained seven each.

It is in his notes that the Brewer Blackbird betrays his affinities best of all. The melodiously squeaking chatter of mating time is, of course, most like that of the Rusty Blackbird (_S. carolinus_), but it lacks the bubbling character. He has then the swelling note of the Grackles proper, _fff-weet_, the latter part rendered with something of a trill, the former merely as an aspirate; and the whole accompanied by expansion of body, slight lifting of wings, and partial spreading of tail. This note is uttered not only during the courting season, but on the occasion of excitement of any kind. _Kooreé_ has a fine metallic quality which promptly links it to the _Keyring_ note of the Redwing. _Chup_ is the ordinary note of distrust and alarm, or of stern inquiry, as when the bird-man is caught fingering the forbidden ovals. A harsh low rattle, or rolling note, is also used when the birds are squabbling among themselves, or fighting for position.

Unquestionably this species has gradually extended its range within the borders of the State, for the earlier investigators did not regard it as resident on Puget Sound. It has profited greatly and deservedly by the spread of settlement everywhere, and this is especially true of the more open situations. Not a little it owes, also, to the introduction of cattle; for it is as great a rustler about corrals and stamping grounds as its renegade cousin, the Cowbird.

No. 17.
BULLOCK’S ORIOLE.

A. O. U. No. 508. Icterus bullockii (Swainson).

Description.—_Adult male_: Black, white, and orange; bill, lore, a
line thru eye, and throat (narrowly) jet black; pileum, back,
scapulars, lesser wing-coverts, primary coverts, and tertials chiefly
black, or with a little yellowish skirting; remiges black edged with
white; middle and greater coverts continuous with edging of tertials
and secondaries, white, forming a large patch; tail chiefly yellow but
central pair of rectrices black terminally, and remaining pairs tipped
with blackish; remaining plumage, including supraloral areas
continuous with superciliaries, orange yellow, most intense on sides
of throat and chest, shading thru cadmium on breast to chrome on rump,
tail-coverts, etc. In _young adults_ the orange is less intense and,
encroaches upon the black of forehead, hind-neck, etc., altho the tail
is more extensively black. _Adult female_: Above drab-gray, clearest
on rump and upper tail-coverts; wings fuscous with whitish edging;
pattern of white in coverts of male retained but much reduced in area;
tail nearly uniform dusky chrome; underparts in general sordid white;
chin and lores white; forehead, superciliary, (indistinct), cheeks,
hind-neck and chest more or less tinged with chrome yellow. _Young
males_ resemble the female but soon gain in intensity of yellow on the
foreparts, gradually acquiring adult black along median line of throat
and in streaks on pileum. Length of adult male about 8.25 (209.5);
wing 3.89 (99); tail 3.07 (78); bill .73 (18.5); tarsus .98 (25).
Female a little smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; black, white, and orange of male
distinctive; slender blackish bill of female strongly contrasting with
the heavy light-colored bill of female Western Tanager with which
alone it is likely to be confused by the novice. General coloration of
female ashy or drab rather than olivaceous, yellow of tail contrasting
with whitish or light drab of tail-coverts.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a pouch of cunningly interwoven grasses, vegetable
fibers, string, etc., 5 to 9 inches deep and lashed by brim to
branches of deciduous tree. _Eggs_: usually 5, smoky white as to
ground color, sometimes tinged with pale blue, more rarely with faint
claret, spotted, streaked and elaborately scrawled with purplish black
or dark sepia, chiefly about larger end. Elongate ovate; av. size .94
× .63 (23.9 × 16). _Season_: May 20-June 15; one brood.

General Range.—Western United States, southern British Provinces and
plateau of Mexico; breeding north to southern British Columbia,
Alberta and southern Assiniboia east to eastern border of Great Plains
in South Dakota, Nebraska, etc., south to northern Mexico; in winter
south to central Mexico.

Range in Washington.—Regular summer resident in eastern Washington
thruout settled sections and along water courses; rare or casual west
of Cascades.

Migrations.—_Spring_: Yakima County, May 2, 1900; Moses Lake, May 15,
1906; Chelan, May 21, 1896.

Authorities.—_Icterus bullockii_ Bon., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.
IX. pt. II. 1858, p. 550. T. C&S. D¹. D². Ss¹. Ss². J. B.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. C. P¹.

Bird of sunshine and good cheer, springtime’s ripest offering and emblem of summer achieved, is this happy-hearted creature who flits about the orchards and timber cultures of eastern Washington. The willows of the brook, the cottonwoods and the quaking asps, were his necessary home until the hand of the pioneer made ready the locust, the maple and the Lombardy poplars, which are now his favorite abiding places. And so, for many years, the droning of bees, the heavy-scented breath of the acacia, and the high, clear whistling of the Oriole have been associated memories.

A little less dandified than his eastern cousin, the lordly Bird of Baltimore, the Bullock Oriole fulfills much the same economy in habit, song, and nesting as that well-known bird. He is, if anything, a little less musical, also, and not so conspicuous.

The males arrive a week or two in advance of their mates, and appear quite ill at ease until joined by their shy companions. Marriage compacts have to be settled at the beginning of the season, but rivalry is chiefly between the under-colored young blades who must make their peace with the sweet girl graduates of the previous year. Orioles are very closely attached to a suitable locality, once chosen, and a group of nests in a single tree presenting successive annual stages of preservation, is fairly eloquent of conjugal fidelity.

The purse-shaped nest of the Bullock Oriole is a marvel of industry and skill, fully equal in these respects to that of the Baltimore Bird. A specimen before me, from a small willow on Crab Creek, in Lincoln County, taken just after its completion, is composed entirely of vegetable fibers, the frayed inner bark of dead willows being chiefly in evidence, while plant-downs of willow, poplar, and clematis are felted into the interstices of the lower portion. This pouch is lashed at the brim by a hundred tiny cables to the sustaining twigs, and hangs to a depth of six inches, with a mean diameter of nearly three, yet so delicate are the materials and so fine the workmanship, that the whole structure weighs less than half an ounce.

A more bulky, loose-meshed affair, taken at Brook Lake No. 4, in Douglas County, has a maximum depth of nine inches outside, a mean depth of six and a half inches inside, and a greater diameter of five inches.

Near farm houses or in town the birds soon learn the value of string, thread, frayed rope, and other waste materials, and nests are made entirely of these less romantic substances. Occasionally a bird becomes entangled in the coils of a refractory piece of string or horse-hair, and tragedies of Orioles hanged at their own doorstep are of record.

The eggs of this species, four to six in number, are usually of a pale smoky gray color, and upon this ground appear curious and intricate scrawlings of purplish black, as tho made by a fine pen, held unsteadily while the egg was twirled. The purpose of this bizarre ornamentation, if indeed it has any, may be thought to appear where scanty coils of black horse-hair in the lining of the nest show up in high relief against the normal white background of vegetable felt. I can testify that under these circumstances the eggs are sometimes indistinguishable at first glance from their surroundings.

The value of the pouch-shaped nest is less clear than in the case of the Baltimore Oriole, whose home is the pendant branch of the elm tree; for the nest of the Bullock Oriole is often attached to stocky branches, pines even, which yield little in the wind. Nor is there any such obvious attempt in the case of this bird to escape enemies by placing the eggs out of reach. The Magpie would search Sheol for a maggot, and any effort to best him would bankrupt the longest purse.

Tired of the confinement of the nest, the ambitious fledgelings clamber up the sides and perch upon the brim. From this less secure position they are not infrequently dislodged before they are quite ready to face the world. Some years ago a friend of mine, Mr. Chas. W. Robinson, of Chelan, secured a fledgeling Oriole which he rescued from the water of the lake where it had evidently just fallen from an overhanging nest. When taken home it proved a ready pet, and was given the freedom of the place. Some two weeks later my friend rescued a nestling from another brood under precisely similar circumstances, and put it in a cage with the older bird. The newcomer had not yet learned to feed himself, but only opened his mouth and called with childish insistence. Judge of the owner’s delight, and mine as a witness, when the older bird, himself little more than a fledgeling, began to feed the orphan with all the tender solicitude of a parent. It was irresistibly cunning and heartsome too, for the bird to select with thoughtful, brotherly kindness, a morsel of food, and hop over toward the clamoring stranger and drop it into his mouth; after this to stand back as if to say, “There, baby! how did you like that?” This trait was not shown by a chance exhibition alone, but became a regular habit, which was still followed when the older bird had attained to fly-catching. It upset all one’s notions about instinct, and made one think of a golden rule for birds.

No. 18.
CALIFORNIAN BICOLORED BLACKBIRD.

A. O. U. No. 499. Agelaius gubernator californicus Nelson.

Description.—_Adult male_: “Uniform deep black, with a faint bluish
green gloss in certain lights; lesser wing-coverts rich poppy red or
vermilion; middle coverts black, or (if not entirely black) at least
broadly tipped with black, the basal portion tawny buff or ochraceous;
bill, legs, and feet black; iris brown” (Ridgway). _Adult female in
breeding plumage_: Dark sooty brown more or less streaked on crown and
back; chin and throat whitish or pinkish buff streaked with brown;
faint superciliary stripe composed of narrow whitish streaks on sooty
ground. _Adult female in winter_: Feathers more or less edged with
rusty. _Immature male_: Lesser wing-coverts partly black, the
remaining red not clear, ochraceous-rufous or orange-tawny. Length of
adult male: (skins) 8.62 (219); wing 5.78 (136.9); tail 3.67 (93.2);
bill .84 (21.3); tarsus 1.28 (32.5). Adult female 6.93 (176); wing
4.27 (108.5); tail 2.82 (71.6); bill .72 (18.3); tarsus 1.10 (27.9).

Recognition Marks.—Like Redwing Blackbird but epaulets pure red
without exposed buff.

Nesting.—_Nest_ and _Eggs_ like those of the Northwestern Red-wing.
Said to be less prolific.

General Range.—Central and northern coast districts of California
north to Washington; straggles irregularly eastward and southward in
California in winter.

Range in Washington.—Recorded breeding at Cape Disappointment and may
possibly extend north to Gray’s Harbor.

Authorities.—_Agelaius gubernator_ Bonaparte, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. IX. 1858, p. 530 (Columbia River by J. K. Townsend). Allen, B.
N. O. C. VI. p. 128. R. H. Lawrence, Auk IX. 1892, 45. Kobbé.

We accept this bird as a resident of this State chiefly on the testimony of William H. Kobbé, who listed it[10] as a breeding bird of Cape Disappointment. He found it closely associated with the Northwestern Red-wing (_A. phœniceus caurinus_) altho the latter frequently pursued it in the attempt to expel it from the small swamp which both were compelled to occupy. This probably represents the northernmost extension of this species, the Gray’s Harbor record of Mr. Lawrence[11] being at least open to question in the matter of identification.

The habits of the Bicolored Blackbird do not differ in any known particular from those of the familiar Red-wing, of which it is a discontinuous offshoot.

No. 19.
COLUMBIAN RED-WING.

A. O. U. No. 498. Agelaius phœniceus neutralis Ridgway.

Synonyms.—San Diego Red-wing. Interior Red-wing. Red-winged Blackbird.
Red-shouldered Blackbird. Swamp Blackbird.

Description.—_Adult male in summer_: Glossy black; lesser wing-coverts
bright red (poppy-red, vermilion or scarlet); middle coverts buffy or
ochraceous-buff—the two forming thus a conspicuous epaulet, or
shoulder patch. Bill, legs, and feet horn black; irides brown. _Adult
male in winter_: Middle wing-coverts more deeply buffy; scapulars and
feathers of black more or less edged with rusty. In _immature males_
the black of the plumage is more or less extensively margined with
rusty-buffy or whitish; the wing-coverts have an admixture of black
and the “red” of the lesser coverts is of a sickly hue (orange-tawny,
etc.). _Adult female in summer_: Brownish gray, everywhere mottled and
streaked, or striped, with dusky, finely on chin, cheeks, and
superciliaries, where also more or less rubescent, heavily below, less
distinctly above; lesser coverts brownish-gray or dull red; middle
coverts black edged with buffy. Bill dusky lightening below; feet and
legs dusky. _Adult female in winter_: Plumage of upperparts more or
less margined with rusty or ochraceous; sides of head and underparts
tinged with buffy. Length of adult males (skins): 8.39 (213.1); wing
4.84 (122.9); tail 3.57 (90.7); bill .90 (23.1); tarsus 1.19 (30.2).
Adult females (skins): 7.11 (181.9); wing 3.98 (101.3); tail 2.85
(72.4); bill .77 (19.6); tarsus 1.06 (26.9).

Recognition Marks.—Chewink to Robin size; bright red epaulets of male;
general streakiness of female. Female lighter-colored and not so
heavily streaked as in _A. p. caurinus_.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a neatly woven but rather bulky basket of grasses,
cat-tail leaves or hemp, usually lashed to upright stalks of cat-tail,
occasionally on bushes, as willow and the like; lining of fine grasses
of uniform size. _Eggs_: 4-7, usually 4, light blue to dull grayish
blue, scrawled, blotched or clouded with dark purple, purplish brown
or black, chiefly about the large end. Av. size 1.04 × .70 (26.4 ×
17.8). _Season_: last week in April, June; two broods.

General Range.—Western United States in the interior north to eastern
British Columbia, restricted by Rocky Mountains and Cascades in
northern portion of range but reaching coast in San Diego and Los
Angeles Counties in California and breeding as far east as western
Texas, southward to northern Chihuahua and northern Lower California;
displaced in Lower Colorado Valley and southern Arizona by _A. p.
sonoriensis_; south in winter to southern Texas, etc.

Range in Washington.—Found in all suitable localities east of the
Cascades.

Migrations.—Irregularly resident but numbers always greatly augmented
about March 1st.

Authorities.—_Agelaius phœniceus_ Vieil., Cooper and Suckley, Rep.
Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II. 1860, 207. Allen, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club,
VI. 1881, 128. D¹. D². Ss¹. Ss². J.

Specimens.—U. of W. C. P.

A meadowlark may pipe from a sunny pasture slope in early February, and a Merrill Song Sparrow may rehearse his cheerful message in midwinter, but it takes the chorus of returning Blackbirds to bring boisterous tidings of awakening spring. What a world of jubilation there is in their voluble whistlings and chirpings and gurglings, a wild medley of March which strikes terror to the faltering heart of winter. A sudden hush falls upon the company as the bird-man draws near the tree in which they are swarming; but a dusky maiden pouts, “Who cares?” and they all fall to again, hammer and tongs, timbrel, pipes, and hautboy. Brewer’s Blackbirds and Cowbirds occasionally make common cause with Red-wings in the northern migrations, but it is always the last-named who preponderate, and it is they who are most vivacious, most resplendent, and most nearly musical. The Red-wing’s mellow _kongqueree_ or occasional tipsy _whoop-er-way-up_ is the life of the party.

Almost before we know it our friends, to the number of a dozen pairs or more, have taken up their residence in a cat-tail swamp—nowhere else, if you please, unless driven to it—and here, about the third week in April, a dozen baskets of matchless weave are swung, or lodged midway of the growing plants. Your distant approach is commented upon from the tops of bordering willows by _keyrings_ and other notes. At close range the lordly male, he of the brilliant epaulets and the proper military swagger, shakes out his fine clothes and says, _Kongqueree_, in a voice wherein anxiety is quite outweighed by vanity and proffered good-fellowship withal. But if you push roughly thru the outlying sedges, anxiety obtains the mastery. There is a hubbub in the marsh. Bustling, frowsy females appear and scold you roundly. The lazy gallants are all fathers now, and they join direful threats to courteous expostulations, as they flutter wildly around the intruder’s head. To the mischievous boy the chance of calling out these frantic attentions is very alluring, even when no harm is intended.

I have said that the Red-wing prefers cat-tails for nesting; there is probably no undisturbed area of cat-tails in eastern Washington which does not harbor Columbian Red-wings; yet, even so, the cover does not suffice and they are impelled to occupy the extensive tulé beds which border the larger lakes. For the second nesting, which occurs in June, the Blackbirds are likely to try the willows, now covered with foliage; or, in default of these, may venture into any coarse vegetation which lines the swamp.

Four or five eggs are commonly laid and sets of six are very rare. On the 18th of May, 1896, I took a set of eight eggs, all believed to be the product of one female, from a nest in Okanogan County, and this set is now in the Oberlin College Museum.

Of the economic value of the Red-wing there can be no question. The bird is chiefly insectivorous and destroys an immense amount of insect life, particularly in the larval state, injurious to vegetation. Its single fault is a weakness for young corn, but as corn is not a staple crop in Washington, this fault may be readily condoned in view of the bird’s valuable services to stockman and orchardist.

No. 20.
NORTHWESTERN RED-WING.

A. O. U. No. 498f. Agelaius phœniceus caurinus Ridgway.

Synonyms.—Red-winged Blackbird. Red-shouldered Blackbird. Marsh
Blackbird. Swamp Blackbird.

Description.—Similar to _A. p. neutralis_ but female much darker,
heavily streaked with black below; in winter feather skirtings of
female more extensively rusty. Measurements not essentially different.

Recognition Marks.—As in preceding. Female darker and more heavily
streaked than in _A. p. neutralis_.

Nesting.—_Nest_: as in preceding; dimensions 5 in. wide by 6 in. deep
outside, 3 × 3 inside. _Eggs_: 3 or 4, rarely 5, colored as before;
dimensions varying from 1.05 × .76 (26.6 × 19.3) to 1.00 × .66 (25.4 ×
16.7). _Season_: second to last week in April, June (Tacoma, April 6,
1906, 3 eggs); two broods.

General Range.—Northwest coast district from northern California north
to British Columbia on Vancouver Island and mainland.

Range in Washington.—Common in suitable localities west of the
Cascades. Irregularly resident.

Authorities.—_Agelaius phœniceus_ Vieil, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv.
IX. 1858, 528. T. C&S. Rh. Kb. Ra. Kk. B. E.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. B. E.

The bird-man was sitting Turk-fashion on a great mossy log which ran far out into the rustling depths of the South Tacoma swamp. The April sun flooded the scene with warm light and made one blink like a blissful drowsy frog, while the marsh sent up a grateful incense of curling vapor. A pocket lunch of bread and cheese was the ostensible occasion of this noontide bliss, but victuals had small charms beside those of the sputtering Tulé Wrens who played hide and seek among the stems, or the dun Coots, who sowed their _pulque pulque pulque_ notes along the reedy depths.

Upon this scene of marshy content burst a vision of Phœnician splendor, Caurinus I., the military satrap of South Tacoma, the authentic tyee of Blackbirds. He was a well-aged bird, and as is the proper way with feathered folk, resplendent in proportion to his years. His epaulets seemed a half larger again than others, and their scarlet was of the brightest hue, contrasting with a black mantle which fairly shone. He appeared an amiable old fellow, and as he lighted ponderously on an uplifted branch of my tree, he remarked, “_Whoo-kuswee-ung_,” so hospitably that I felt impelled to murmur, “Thanks,” and assured him of my unhostile intent. “_Conqueree?_” he questioned, richly. “Er—well, yes, if you are the conqueror.”

But the general had other interests to watch. An upstart male of the second year with shoulder-straps of a sickly orange hue, was descried a rod away climbing hand-over-hand up a cat-tail stem. _Keyring, keyring_, the despot warned him; and because the presumptuous youth did not heed him quickly enough, he launched his splendor over the spot, whereat the youth sank in dire confusion. And next, our hero caught sight of a female fair to look upon peeping at him furtively from behind her lattice of reeds. To see was to act, he flung his heart at the maiden upon the instant, and followed headlong after, thru I know not what reedy mazes. Oh, heart ever young, and pursuit never wearying!

Northwestern Red-wings find rather restricted range thruout western Washington, but they appear wherever there are fresh-water marshes or reed-bordered lakes. In default of cat-tails they will accept the shelter of dwarf willows, or coarse dense grass of any sort.

Nesting is undertaken at Tacoma at least by the third week in April, and we have found eggs as early as the sixth of that month. The nest of the accompanying illustration (photogravure) is composed solely of the coiled stems of the dried bulrushes, amongst which it is placed, with a lining of clean dried grass-stems.

Few eggs exceed in beauty those of the Red-winged Black-bird. The background is a pale bluish green of great delicacy, and upon this occur sharply-defined spots, blotches, marblings, traceries, and “pen-work” of dark sepia, purplish black, drab, and heliotrope purple. Or a spot of color appears to be deeply imbedded in the fine, strong texture of the shell, and carries about it an aura of diminishing color. Occasionally, the whole egg is suffused with pale brownish, or, more rarely, it is entirely unmarked.

Incubation lasts fourteen days and the young are ready to leave the nest in a little over two weeks more. They are frizzly, helpless, complaining little creatures, but if they cannot fly well they can clamber, and they cling with the grip of terrified monkeys.

Our Northwestern Red-wings are normally migratory, but they also winter with us irregularly; and this habit appears to be gaining ground as the guarantee of food becomes more certain. Numbers of them subsist in both Seattle and Tacoma in the vicinity of grain elevators, where they will have comfortable sustenance until such time as the augmented English Sparrows decree death to all native birds.

No. 21.
YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRD.

A. O. U. No. 497. Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus (Bonap.).

Description.—_Adult male_: Head, neck all around, and breast orange
yellow; lores and feathers skirting eyes and bill, black; a double
white patch on folded wing formed by greater and lesser coverts, but
interrupted by black of bastard wing; usually a little yellow about
vent and on tibiæ; the remaining plumage black, dull or subdued, and
turning brown on wing-tips and tail. _Female_: Dark brown; line over
eye, throat, and upper breast dull yellow. Length 10.00-11.00
(254-279.4); wing 5.30-5.60 (134.6-142.2); tail 4.00-4.50
(101.6-114.3); bill .90 (22); tarsus 1.25 (31.8). Female smaller,
length 8.00-9.50 (203.2-241.3).

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; yellow head and breast; white
wing-patches.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a bulky but usually neat fabric of dried grasses,
reeds or cat-tails lashed to growing ones; 5-7 inches in diameter
outside by 5-8 deep; inside deeply cupped. _Eggs_: 3-6, grayish green
spotted or clouded with reddish brown, rarely scrawled as in
_Agelaius_; elongate ovate in shape. Av. size, 1.10 × .75 (27.9 × 19).
_Season_: May or June; one brood.

General Range.—Western North America from Wisconsin, Illinois and
Texas to the Pacific Coast, and from British Columbia and the
Saskatchewan River southward to the Valley of Mexico. Accidental in
Middle and Atlantic States.

Range in Washington.—Of local distribution in eastern Washington
chiefly east of the Columbia River. Rare or casual west of the
Cascades. Summer resident.

Authorities.—[“Yellow-headed Blackbird,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884
(1885), 22.] Bendire, Life Hist. N. A. Birds, Vol. II. 1895, p. 447.
Ss^r. J.

Specimens.—Prov. C. P.

Oh, well for the untried nerves that the Yellow-headed Blackbird sings by day, when the sun is shining brightly, and there are no supporting signs of a convulsion of Nature! Verily, if love affected us all in similar fashion, the world would be a merry mad-house. The Yellow-head is an extraordinary person—you are prepared for that once you catch sight of his resplendent gold-upon-black livery—but his avowal of the tender passion is a revelation of incongruity. Grasping a reed firmly in both fists, he leans forward, and, after premonitory gulps and gasps, succeeds in pressing out a wail of despairing agony which would do credit to a dying catamount. When you have recovered from the first shock, you strain the eyes in astonishment that a mere bird, and a bird in love at that, should give rise to such a cataclysmic sound. But he can do it again, and his neighbor across the way can do as well—or worse. When your nerves have somewhat recovered, modesty overcomes you, and you retire, not without a chastened sense of privilege that you have lived to hear the Yellow-head pop the question,—“and also you lived after.”

The expiring Romeo cry is quite the finest of the Xanthocephaline repertory, but there are others not devoid of interest. _Ok-eh-ah-oh-oo_ is a musical series of startling brilliancy, comparable in a degree to the yodelling of a street urchin,—a succession of sounds of varying pitches, produced as tho by altering the oral capacity. It may be noted thus: The last note is especially mellow and pleasing, recalling to some ears the liquid gurgle of the Bobolink, to which, of course, our bird is distinctly related.

Alternating with the last named, and more frequently heard from the depths of the nesting swamp is _gur, gurrl_; or, as oftenest, _yewi(nk), yewi(nk), gur-gurrl_. In this phrase the _gurrl_ is drawn out with comical effect, as tho the gallant were down on his knees before some unyielding maiden.

The Yellow-head’s ordinary note of distrust, equivalent to the _dink_ note of the Red-wing, is _kluck_ or _koluck’_. In flight this becomes almost invariably _oo’kluk, oo’kluk_.

At rest, again, this is sometimes prolonged into a thrilling passage of resonant “l” notes, probably remonstratory in character. The alarm cry is built upon the same basis, and is uttered with exceeding vehemence, _klookoloy, klookoloy, klook ooooo_.

Finally, if one may presume to speak finally of so versatile a genius, they have a harsh, rasping note very similar in quality to the scolding note of the Steller Jay, only lighter in weight and a little higher in pitch. This is the note of fierce altercation, or the distress cry in imminent danger. The last time I heard it was in the rank herbage bordering upon a shallow lake in Douglas County. I rushed in to find a big blow-snake coiling just below a nestful of young birds, while the agonized parents and sympathetic neighbors hovered over the spot crying piteously. To stamp upon the reptile was but the work of a moment; and when I dropped the limp ophidian upon the bare ground, all the blackbird population gathered about the carcass, shuddering but exultant, and—perhaps it was only fancy—grateful too.

For all the Yellow-head is so decided in utterance, in disposition he is somewhat phlegmatic, the male bird especially lacking the vivacity which characterizes the agile Brewer Blackbird. Except when hungry, or impelled by passion, he is quite content to mope for hours at a time in the depths of the reeds; and even in nesting time, when his precincts are invaded, he oftener falls to admiring his own plumage in the flooding sunshine than tries to drive off the intruder. Let the homely and distrait female attend to that.

This bird is essentially a plains-loving species, and its favorite haunts with us are the reedy borders of the treeless lakes, and the upland sloughs of eastern Washington. It is highly gregarious, especially in the fall and early spring, but confesses to about the same degree of domesticity as the Red-wing, in late spring and early summer.

The nests are stoutly-woven baskets of reeds and grasses, light and dry and handsome. No mud or other matrix material is used in construction, and the interior is always carefully lined with fine dry grass. The illimitable bulrushes are the favorite cover, but rank herbage of any sort is used if only it be near or over water. The most humble situations suffice; and the nest is often placed within a foot of the water, or its equivalent of black ooze.

No. 22.
WESTERN MEADOWLARK.

A. O. U. No. 501.1. Sturnella neglecta Audubon.

Synonyms.—Field Lark. Old-field Lark. Medlark. Medlar (poetical).
Mudlark (corruption).

Description.—_Adult male_: General color of upperparts brownish black
modified by much tawny and buffy-gray edgings of the feathers which
throw the black into stripes and bars with suggestion of herring-bone
pattern; the tawny heaviest on secondaries and upper tail-feathers
where taking the form of partial bands, a median crown stripe and
posterior portion of superciliary sordid white or buffy; anterior
portion of superciliary, cheeks, chin, upper throat, breast (broadly)
and middle belly rich lemon yellow (inclining to orange in older
specimens); a large black crescent on upper breast; sides and flanks
black-streaked and spotted with pale brown on a buffy or whitish
ground. Bill variegated, tawny, black and white. _Female_: Like male
but smaller and paler with some substitutions of brown for black in
streaking; black of jugulum veiled by grayish tips of feathers; yellow
of breast duller, etc. The plumage of both sexes is duller in fall and
winter, the normal colors being restrained by buffy overlay. Length of
adult male: 10.00-11.00 (254-279.4); wing 4.85 (123.2); tail 3.00
(76.2); bill 1.30 (33); tarsus 1.46 (37.1). Female smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Robin size; yellow breast with black collar
distinctive; general streaky appearance above; yellow cheeks as
distinguished from the Eastern Meadowlark (_Sturnella magna_).

Nesting.—_Nest_: on the ground in thick grass or weeds; a slight
depression lined (carefully or not) and usually overarched with dried
grasses. _Eggs_: 4-6, white, speckled and spotted, sometimes very
sparingly, with cinnamon brown or purplish; very variable in shape,
elliptical ovate to almost round. Av. size, 1.12 × .80 (28.5 × 20.3).
_Season_: April and June; two broods. Tacoma, April 5, 1906, 4 fresh
eggs.

General Range.—Western United States, southwestern British Provinces,
and northwestern Mexico, east to prairie districts of Mississippi
Valley, Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, etc., occasionally to Illinois and
Michigan; breeding thruout its range.

Range in Washington.—Abundant east and west of the Cascades; largely
resident on the West-side, partially on the East-side; numbers
augmented from the south during last week in February.

Authorities.—[Lewis and Clark, Hist. Ex. (1814), Ed. Biddle: Coues.
Vol II. p. 186.] _Sturnella neglecta_ Aud., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R.
Surv. IX. 1858, 539. T. C&S. L². Rh. D¹. Sr. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss². Kk. B.
E.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. B. E. BN. P¹.

Summer silences the birds so gradually and we ourselves have become so much absorbed in business during the prosy days of September that we have almost forgotten the choruses of springtime and have come to accept our uncheered lot as part of the established order of things. But on a nippy October morning, as we are bending over some dull task, there comes a sound which brings us to our feet. We hasten to the window, throw up the sash and lean out into the cool, fresh air while a Meadowlark rehearses, all at a sitting, the melodies of the year’s youth. It all comes back to us with a rush; the smell of lush grasses, the splendor of apple blossoms, the courage of lengthening days, the ecstacies of courtship—all these are recalled by the lark-song. It is as tho this forethoughted soul had caught the music of a May day, just at its prime, in a crystal vase, and was now pouring out the imprisoned sound in a gurgling, golden flood. What cheer! What heartening! Yea; what rejuvenation it brings! Wine of youth! Splashes of color and gay delight!

It is impossible not to rhapsodize over the Meadowlark. He is a rhapsodist himself. Born of the soil and lost in its embraces for such time as it pleases him, he yet quits his lowly station ever and again, mounts some fence-post or tree-top, and publishes to the world an unquenchable gladness in things-as-they-are. If at sunrise, then the gleams of the early ray flash resplendent from his golden breastplate,—this high-priest of morning; and all Nature echoes his joyous blast: “Thank God for sunshine!” Or if the rain begins to fall, who so quickly grateful for its refreshment as this optimist of the ground, this prophet of good cheer! There is even an added note of exultation in his voice as he shouts: “Thank God for rain!” And who like him can sing farewell to parting day! Piercing sweet from the meadows come the last offerings of day’s daysmen, peal and counterpeal from rival friendly throats, unfailing, unfaltering, unsubdued: “It is good to live. It is good to rest. Thank God for the day now done!”

The Meadowlark of the East has a poet’s soul but he lacks an adequate instrument of expression. His voice does not respond to his requirement. Perhaps his early education, as a species, was neglected. Certain it is that in passing westward across the prairies of Iowa or Minnesota one notices an instant change in the voices of the Meadowlarks. The song of the western bird is sweeter, clearer, louder, longer and more varied. The difference is so striking that we can explain it only upon the supposition of an independent development. The western bird got his early training where prairie wild flowers of a thousand hues ministered to his senses, where breath of pine mingled faintly with the aroma of neighboring cactus bloom, and where the sight of distant mountains fired the imagination of a poet race. At any rate we of the West are proud of the Western Meadowlark and would have you believe that such a blithe spirit could evolve only under such circumstances.

Bird song never _exactly_ conforms to our musical notation, and there is no instrument save the human “whistle” which will even passably reproduce the quality of the Meadowlark’s song. Nevertheless, many interesting experiments have been made in recording these songs and a little attention will convince the least accomplished musician that there is a fascinating field for study here.