Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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=The Migration of North American Birds=

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

With a drawing by LOUIS AGASSIZ FUERTES

(See Frontispiece)

THE BUSH-TIT

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

THE LEAD-COLORED BUSH-TIT

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

LLOYD'S BUSH-TIT

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

THE VERDIN

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

THE WREN-TIT

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

=Notes on the Plumage of North American Birds=

THIRTY-SEVENTH PAPER

By FRANK M. CHAPMAN

(See Frontispiece)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=Notes from Field and Study=

A Correction

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

Hints for Bird Clubs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ornithological Possibilities of a Bit of Swamp-Land

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Neighbor's Sparrow Trap

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

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

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

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

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

A Tropical Migration Tragedy

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

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

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

A Shower of Birds