Part 17

At no time does the absorptive power of our matchless Puget Sound cover appear to greater advantage than during the migration of the Fox Sparrows. However they may choose to move at night, by day they frequent the dense tangles of salal and salmon brush, or skulk about in cedar swamps. To search for them is useless, but if you are much out-of-doors the time will come, while you are footing it softly along some woodland path, that a demure brown bird will hop out in front of you and look unconcernedly for tid-bits before your very eyes. The bird is a little larger than a Song Sparrow, but you will require a second glance to note that the colors of the upperparts are smoothly blended, that the head lacks the vague stripiness of _Melospiza_, and that the underparts are spotted instead of streaked. Or, it may be, that you chance upon him as he is busily scratching among the fallen alder leaves. Scratching is hardly the word tho, for the bird leaps forward and executes an extravagant double kick backward, landing invariably at the edge of the cleared space. Here, without a moment’s delay, he proceeds to glean busily, whereas you rather expected him to pause at the end of his stunt, like the acrobat, awaiting the conventional burst of applause. If you must needs pursue the path, he hops back into the thicket and you have seen, perhaps, your last Fox Sparrow for this year, altho his migrating kinsmen must number millions.

No. 62. SOOTY FOX SPARROW.

A. O. U. No. 585 a (part). Passerella iliaca fuliginosa Ridgway.

Description.—_Adults_: Upperparts, sides of head, neck, and lateral underparts nearly uniform dark brown (sepia brown—“sooty” not inappropriate), warming slightly upon exposed surfaces of wings and upon rump and outer edges of rectrices; below white save for under tail-coverts, which have clear buffy wash, everywhere save on middle belly heavily marked with large, chiefly triangular, spots of the color of back or darker—spotting heaviest on breast where nearly confluent. Bill black above shading on sides into yellow of lower mandible; feet pale ruddy brown or wine-color. Length (of a single fresh specimen) 7.45 (191.7); wing (av.) 3.21 (81.5); tail 2.91 (77); bill .48 (12.2); tarsus 1.02 (25.9).

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow to Chewink size; uniform sooty brown coloration of head and upperparts; heavily spotted below with sepia or blackish; darker above and more heavily spotted below than any migrant form of the _P. i. unalaschensis_ group.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a bulky structure with a broad, flat brim, of mosses, grasses, twigs, woody fibers, weed-stalks, often heavily lined with fine dry grass of contrasting color and with an inner mat of fur, hair or feathers; placed at moderate heights in thickets or saplings; measures externally 6 inches across by 3 deep, internally 2⅛ across by 1⅝ deep. _Eggs_: 4, greenish blue, spotted, or spotted and clouded, with reddish brown. Av. size, .94 × .68 (23.8 × 17.3). _Season_: May-July; two broods.

General Range.—Summer resident in coast region of British Columbia and northwestern Washington; in winter south along the coast to San Francisco.

Range in Washington.—Breeding on the San Juan Islands and upon the northern and western shores of the Olympic Peninsula; not uncommon migrant on Puget Sound.

Authorities.—(?) Baird, Rep. Pac., etc., 489 part; (?) Cooper and Suckley Rep. Pac., etc., 204 part; (?) Sclater Cat. Am. Birds, 1862, 119 part (Simiahmoo [sic]); Ridgway, Auk, XVI. Jan. 1899, 36 (Neah Bay). Kb. E.

Specimens.—Prov. BN. E.

The mystery of the Fox Sparrow clears a little as we move northward on Puget Sound, and may even resolve itself one day as we spend a lazy July in camp on one of the San Juan islands. We are puzzled, as the tent pegs are being driven, by certain sprightly songs bursting out now here, now there, from the copse. We labor under a sense of avian surveillance as we gather fuel from the beach, but the songs are too joyous and limpid to make precise connections with anything in previous experience. It is not till the cool of the evening, when we seek the spring, back in the depths of the thicket, that we come upon a fair birdmaiden slyly regaling herself upon a luscious salmon-berry, flushed to the wine-red of perfection, while three of her suitors peal invitations to separate bowers in the neighboring tangles. She flees guiltily on detection, but the secret is out; we know now where these shy wood nymphs keep themselves in summer.

The male bird is sometimes emboldened by the moment of song to venture into the tops of willows or alders, but even here he hugs the screen of leaves and is ready in a trice to dive into the more familiar element of bushes. Once under cover of the protecting salal, or among the crowding ferns, the Fox Sparrows are excelled by none in their ability to get about with a modicum of disturbance; and the longest journeys, such as are made necessary in the time of clamoring young, appear to be made by slipping and sliding thru the maze of intersecting stems. The song is varied and vivacious; but, save for the opening notes, is neither very strong nor very brilliant. The opening phrase, however, _Pewit, heu_, comes as a tiny bugle call into which is distilled the essence of all dank hollows, of all rustling leaves, of all murmuring tides, and of all free-blowing breezes. It is the authentic voice of the little wild.

On a July day a trio of Indian boys, Quillayutes, were showing the bird-man a round of belated nesters, while he was looking for opportunities to photograph eggs, and also recording Quillayutan bird names in passing. A Rusty Song Sparrow’s nest held only weanlings, mildly hideous, and the leader, a lad of ten, expressed regret that he could not show me the nest of another kind of Song Sparrow. With excess of Caucasian pride I assured him that there was only one species of Song Sparrow to be found locally, but my learned statements drew forth only puzzled and unconvicted glances. Some days later when I had taken a set of Sooty Fox Sparrow’s eggs from a neighboring islet, the boys clamored in triumph, “That’s it; those are the eggs of _Tahbahlilchteh_, the other Song Sparrow we told you about.” The boys were near enough right; the Fox Sparrow is for all the ordinary world like a Song Sparrow; and I venture that not a dozen white boys in Washington ever saw the bird itself, let alone distinguishing it by name.

The eggs referred to were found amid most romantic surroundings, on a sea-girt islet a mile or two out from the Pacific shore. The island is given over to sea-birds, and these nest upon its precipitous sides to the number of thousands; but the center of the rock is crowned with a grove of spruce trees, which overshadow a dense growth of salmon-berry bushes. In a clump of the latter at a height of six feet was placed a very bulky but unusually handsome nest, which held, in the really tiny cup which occupies the upper center of the structure, three eggs of a greenish blue color heavily spotted and marbled with warm browns. The nest measures externally eight and ten inches in width, internally two; in depth four inches outside and only one and a half inside. It is composed chiefly of green mosses set in dead spruce twigs with a few twisted weed stalks; while the lining is of a light-colored, fine, dead grass, very loosely arranged, and a few breast-feathers of the Glaucous-winged Gull. A nest full of young Peregrine Falcons were conversing in screams with their doting parents in the spruce trees overhead, and terrorizing the island thereby; but the Sooty Fox Sparrows stepped forward modestly to claim ownership in the nest which “Science” unfortunately required. The date was July 21, 1906, and the eggs were nearly upon the point of hatching.

Thus, the north and west slopes of the Olympic Mountains, together with the islands of lower Puget Sound, appear to mark the southern breeding range of the coastal Fox Sparrows. This form has not been reported breeding upon the mainland east of Puget Sound, but it is difficult to see why it should not do so. It is rather the commonest form during the spring and fall migrations, and there is no evidence as yet that it tarries with us in winter.

No. 63. SLATE-COLORED SPARROW.

A. O. U. No. 585 c. Passerella iliaca schistacea (Baird).

Synonym.—Slate-colored Fox Sparrow.

Description.—_Adults_: Upperparts slaty gray tinged with olivaceous, changing abruptly to russet brown on upper tail-coverts, and tail; wings brown brightening, more rusty, on edges of greater coverts and secondaries; some white fleckings below eye, and supraloral spot dull whitish; underparts white shaded with color of back on sides; the sides of throat, chest, and sides of breast heavily and distinctly marked with triangular spots of sepia; lower breast (and sometimes middle of throat) flecked, and sides and flanks striped, with the same shade; under tail-coverts grayish brown centrally edged broadly with buffy. _Young birds_ are tinged with brown above and are duller white below with less distinct markings. Length of adult male 7.00-7.50 (177.8-190.5); wing 3.15 (80); tail 3.15 (80); bill .47 (12); tarsus .92 (23.3).

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow to Chewink size; slaty gray and brown coloration above with heavy spotting on breast distinctive; _gray_ instead of brown on back as compared with the five members of the _unalaschensis_ group.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a bulky affair of twigs, weed-stalks, grasses, etc., placed on ground or low in bushes of thicket. _Eggs_: 3-5, usually 4, greenish brown sharply spotted or (rarely) blotched with chestnut. Av. size .85 × .65 (21.6 × 16.5). _Season_: May-July; two broods.

General Range.—Rocky Mountain district of United States and British Columbia west to and including the Cascade Mountains, the White Mountains of southeastern California, and the mountains of northeastern California; south in winter to New Mexico, Arizona, etc.

Range in Washington.—Summer resident in the timbered districts of the East-side and in the Cascade Mountains (west to Mt. Rainier).

Authorities.—[“Slate-colored sparrow,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885), 22]. Bendire, Life Hist. N. A. Birds, Vol. II., p. 435.

The residents of Cannon Hill, in Spokane, are to be congratulated, not alone for their wealth, for Nature is not curious as to bank accounts, but for the rare good taste which has been displayed in utilizing the largess of Nature. Instead of going in with axe and shovel and fire-brand, first to obliterate the distinctive features of Nature and then rear mocking platitudes in mortar and stone upon her pale ashes, they have accepted the glory of her grim lava bastions and the grace of her unhewn pines; nor have they even despised the tangles of wild shrubbery, those decent draperies without which both tree and cliff would be overstark. To be sure the landscape artist with consummate skill has said to the piny sentinel, “Stand here!” and to the copse, “Sit there!” but he has not forgotten withal the primeval rights of the feathered aborigines. As a result _the birds approve_. What higher meed could mortal ask? Or where is there a better criterion of taste? Taken all in all I doubt if there is a more delightful spot in Washington in which to study bird life, certainly not within municipal bounds, than Cannon Hill affords.

Here, for instance, is this wood sprite, the very genius of the unravished wild; no one would think of looking for him in a city, yet of an early morning as the bird-man was passing along Seventh Avenue, he was arrested by the crisp and hearty notes of a Slate-colored Sparrow, coming from a bush in an artistically unkempt corner of the adjoining yard. In the half light, nothing in the pose and appearance of this bird would have induced an ornithologist to bestow a second glance upon the evident Song Sparrow, had it not been for the sweet and powerful challenge which poured from his earnest beak. _Ooree, rickit, loopiteer_, it said, with varied cadence and minor change, which gave evidence of no mean ability. There is something so forthright and winsome about the song of this modest bird, that the listener promptly surrenders “at discretion,” and begins to ask eager questions of his dainty captor.

A few yards further on three of these Sparrows were seen feeding on a well-kept lawn, but ready to skurry at a breath to the shelter of bush-clumps, thoughtfully provided. And all this in the first week in June, the very height of nesting time! With this as an example, what need to speak of Hammond Flycatchers, Mountain Chickadees, Catbirds, Pine Siskins, Audubon Warblers, Shufeldt Juncoes, Cassin Finches, Pygmy Nuthatches, American Crossbills, Cassin Vireos, Louisiana Tanagers, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Olive-sided Flycatchers, Evening Grosbeaks, Violet-green Swallows, Black-chinned Hummingbirds, Bobwhites, and a host of commoner sorts, all residents of the same demesne? “Unto him that hath shall be given.” Unto these who have shown appreciation and consideration, has been given the friendship of the birds, and they deserve their good fortune.

On the 5th of June we visited a nest which had been located a few days before in a little aspen grove beyond Garden Springs. The nest was placed upon the ground at the base of a small tree, and it sat so high, without pretense of concealment, that it was plainly visible with all its contents two rods away.

The female was brooding, but upon our approach she slipped quietly off and left her three callow young to the tender mercies of the bird-man and his big glass eye, set at four feet, while she began searching for food upon the ground a yard or two away.

The male bird appeared, once, upon a bush some twenty feet away, making no hostile demonstration but beaming rather a hearty confidence, as who should say, “Well, I see you are getting along nicely at home; that’s right, enjoy yourselves, and I’ll finish up this bit of hoeing before supper.”

The mother bird, meanwhile, was uttering no complaint of the strange presence, preferring instead to glean food industriously from under the carpet of green leaves. Soon she returned, hopping up daintily. Standing upon the elevated brim of her nest she carefully surveyed her brood without proffer of food, as tho merely to assure herself of their welfare. I “snapped” and she retreated, not hastily, as tho frightened, but quietly as matter of reasonable prudence. Again and again during the hour I had her under fire, she returned to her brood. Each time she retired before the mild roar of the curtain shutter, never hastily or nervously, but deliberately and demurely. Thrice she fed her brood, thrusting her beak, which bore no external signs of food, deep down into the upturned gullets of the three children. Thrice she attempted to brood her babes, and very handsome and very motherly she looked, with fluffed feathers and mildly inquisitive eye; but the necessary movement following an exposure sent her away for a season.

When absent she neither moped nor scolded, but discreetly set about scratching for food, always within a range of ten or fifteen feet of the nest. At such times she would look up trustfully and unabashed. Upon the return she never flew, and there was nothing to advise the waiting camerist of her approach, save the rustle of leaves as she came hop, hopping, until she stood upon the familiar brim.

The opportunities for picture-making were simply unlimited, save for the weakness of the leaf-diluted light. Seldom have I been stirred to such admiration as in the case of this gentle mother _Schistacea_. So demure, so even-tempered, and so kindly a bird-person, with such a preserving air of gentle breeding, I have not often seen. It was an hour to be long remembered.

No. 64. GREEN-TAILED TOWHEE.

A. O. U. No. 592.1. Oreospiza chlorura (Aud.).

Synonyms.—Green-tailed Finch. Blanding’s Finch.

Description.—_Adults_: Crown and occiput rich chestnut; forehead blackish gray with whitish loral spot on each side; remaining upperparts olive-gray tinged more or less with bright olive-green; wings and tail with brighter greenish edgings; bend of wing, axillaries and under coverts yellow; chin and throat white bordered by dusky submaxillary stripe; sides of head and neck and remaining underparts ashy gray, clearing to white on abdomen, tinged with buffy or brownish on sides, flanks and crissum. Bill blackish above, paler below; legs brown, toes darker; irides cinnamon. _Young birds_ are brown above tinged with greenish and streaked with dusky but with wings and tail much as in adult. Length of adult about 7.00 (177.8); wing 3.15 (80); tail 3.30 (84); bill .50 (12.7); tarsus .94 (24).

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; rufous crown, white throat; greenish coloration of upperparts.

Nesting.—“_Nest_: in bush or on the ground. _Eggs_: .90 × .68 (22.8 × 17.2); pale greenish or grayish white, freckled all over with bright reddish brown, usually aggregating or wreathing at the larger end” (Coues).

General Range.—“Mountain districts of western United States, from more eastern Rocky Mountain ranges to coast range of California; north to central Montana and Idaho and eastern Washington” (Ridgway). South in winter to Mexico and Lower California.

Range in Washington.—Presumably summer resident in the Blue Mountains.

Authorities.—[“Green-tailed towhee,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885), 22]. Ridgway, Birds of North and Middle America, Part I, 401. T(?).

Not having ourselves encountered this species we are not able to comment on Prof. Ridgway’s inclusion[21] of eastern Washington in the bird’s breeding range. The Green-tailed Towhee appears to be essentially a mountain-loving species, and if it occurs within our borders, will be nearly confined to the Blue Mountains of the southeastern corner.

Mr. Trippe, writing from Idaho Springs, Colorado, says of this bird[22]: “It arrives at Idaho early in May, and soon becomes abundant, remaining till the close of September or early part of October. It is a sprightly, active little bird with something wren-like in its movements and appearance. It is equally at home among the loose stones and rocks of a hill-side (where it hops about with all the agility of the Rock Wren), and the densest thickets of brambles and willows in the valleys, amidst which it loves to hide. It is rather shy, and prefers to keep at a good distance from any suspicious object; and if a cat or dog approaches its nest, makes a great scolding, like the Cat-bird, and calls all the neighbors to its assistance; but if a person walks by, it steals away very quietly and remains silent till the danger is passed. It has a variety of notes which it is fond of uttering; one sounds like the mew of a kitten, but thinner and more wiry; its song is very fine, quite different from the Towhee’s and vastly superior to it. It builds its nests in dense clumps of brambles, and raises two broods each season, the first being hatched about the middle of June.”

No. 65. SPURRED TOWHEE.

A. O. U. No. 588 a. Pipilo maculatus montanus Swarth.

Synonyms.—Chewink. “Catbird.”

Description.—_Adult male_: Head and neck all around, chest and upperparts black, glossy anteriorly, duller on back; elongated white spots on scapulars, on tips of middle and greater coverts and on outer web of exposed tertials; edge of wing white and succeeding primaries white on outer web; outermost pair of rectrices edged with white on outer web; the three outermost pairs terminally blotched with white on inner web and the fourth pair touched with same near tip; breast and belly white; sides, flanks and crissum light cinnamon rufous, bleaching on under tail-coverts to light tawny. Bill black; feet brownish; iris red. _Adult female_: Similar to male but duller; black of male replaced by slaty with an olivaceous cast. Length of adult males: 7.50-8.50 (190.5-215.9); wing 3.17 (86); tail 3.93 (100); bill .53 (13.5); tarsus 1.07 (27.7); hind claw .48 (12.2). Female a little less.

Recognition Marks.—Standard of “Chewink” size; black, white and cinnamon-rufous unmistakable; _heavily_ spotted with white on scapulars and wing as compared with _P. m. oregonus_.

Nesting.—_Nest_: on the ground in thicket or at base of small sapling, a bulky collection of bark-strips, pine needles, coarse dead grass, etc., carefully lined with fine dry grass; measures 5 inches in width and 3 in depth externally by 2½ wide and 1½ deep inside. _Eggs_: 3-5, usually 4, grayish white or pinkish white as to ground, heavily and uniformly dotted with light reddish brown. Av. size, .93 × .70 (23.6 × 17.8). _Season_: last week in April, last week in May and first week in June; two broods.

General Range.—Breeding in Upper Sonoran and Transition zones from the Rocky Mountains to the Cascade-Sierras and in the Pacific coast district of central California, and from Lower California and Northern Mexico north into British Columbia; retiring from northern portion of range in winter.

Range in Washington.—Common summer resident east of the Cascades, found in foothills and mountain valleys up to 3,000 feet; casually resident in winter.

Authorities.—_P. m. megalonyx_, Brewster, B. N. O. C. VII. Oct. 1892, p. 227. D². Ss¹. Ss². J.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) P¹. Prov. C.

Altho of Mexican stock, our western Towhee does not differ greatly in appearance from the familiar bird (_P. erythrophthalmus_) of the East; and its habits so closely resemble that of the eastern bird as hardly to require special description. The Spurred Towhee is a lover of green, thickety hillsides and brushy draws, such cover, in short, as is lumped together under the term “chaparral” further south. It is, therefore, narrowly confined to the vicinity of streams in the more open country, but it abounds along the foothills and follows up the deeper valleys of the Cascades nearly to the divide.