Part 18

Tow’hee, as a name, is a manifest corruption of _tow heé_, or _to-hwi′_, an imitative word, after the bird’s most familiar note. Chewink′ is an attempt along the same line, but _Marié_ is what the bird seems to me to say. It is on this account alone that the bird is said to “mew” and is called “Catbird.” The true Catbird, however, always says _Ma-á ry_, and there is no cause for confusion. During excitement or alarm the Towhee’s note is always shortened and sharpened to _Mrie_, with a flirt and jet, and a flash of the eye. The song variously rendered as “_Chee-terr, pilly, willy, willy_,” “_Chip, ah, tow-hee-ee_” and “_Yang, kit-er-er_,” is delivered from the top of a bush or the low limb of a tree; and while monotonous and very simple, it retains the pleasing quality of that of the eastern bird. The singer will not stand for close inspection, for, as Jones says of its cousin[23]: “He is a nervous fellow, emphasizing his disturbance at your intrusion with a nervous _fluff, fluff_ of the short wings, and a jerk and quick spreading of the long, rounded tail, as if he hoped that the flash of white at its end would startle the intruder away.”

For a nest the Spurred Towhee scratches a hollow at the base of a bush or clump in some dry situation, and lines this carefully, first with leaves, bark-strips and plant stems, then with fine grasses or rootlets. The eggs, commonly four in number, are deposited the last week in April or first in May, and the female clings to her treasures until the crushing footstep is very imminent. Once flushed, however, she keeps to the background, scolding intermittently, and she will not return until long after the excitement has died down.

Two broods are raised each season, and the first one, at least, must early learn to shift for itself. The young birds are obscure, dun-colored creatures, quite unlike their parents in appearance, and by July they infest the buck-brush of the more open mountain sides in such numbers and apparent variety as to start a dozen false hopes in the ornithologist’s breast each day.

No. 66. OREGON TOWHEE.

A. O. U. No. 588 b. Pipilo maculatus oregonus (Bell).

Synonyms.—“Catbird.” Chewink.

Description.—_Adult male_: Similar to _P. m. montanus_ but darker, the white spotting of wing and blotches on tail much reduced; two outer pairs of rectrices blotched and the third touched with white near tip; cinnamon-rufous of sides, etc., richer and deeper. _Adult female_: Like male but black veiled by deep reddish brown (clove brown) skirtings of feathers. Length about 8.50 (216); wing 3.33 (84.6); tail 3.69 (93.7); bill .57 (14.5); tarsus 1.10 (27.9); hind claw .43 (10.9). Female a little smaller.

Recognition Marks.—“Chewink” size; black (with white spotting on wings) above; white of breast; deep reddish brown of sides; mewing cry.

Nesting.—Like that of preceding species. _Eggs_ a little larger: Av. size, 1.04 × .74 (26.4 × 18.8).

General Range.—Pacific coast district from British Columbia (including Vancouver Id.) south to central California; chiefly resident thruout its range.

Range in Washington.—Of general occurrence, save at higher levels, west of the Cascades; resident.

Authorities.—? _Fringilla arctica_, Aud. Orn. Biog. V. 1839, 49; pl. 394. _P. oregonus_, Bell, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. 1858, pp. 513, 514. (T). C&S. L². Rh. Kb. Ra. Kk. B. E.

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

Perhaps no bird is better known by voice and less by plumage than this shy recluse of the under forest. Swampy thickets, brush-piles, log-heaps, and the edges of clearings are his special delight. Hence it is that the newcomer, taking up quarters at the edge of town, hears this mysterious, questioning voice, _me-a**error(yacute)? mea**error(yacute) uh_? rising from the depths of the brush-lot opposite. He reports the sound under the name of “Catbird,” and asks the bird-man’s opinion. Or, if the newcomer has been persistent enough, he has a glowing account to give of a handsome black bird with red on its sides, “like a Robin,” and some white below. The bird would only show himself for a moment at a time, and then he flitted and flirted restlessly before he dived into cover again, so that the fine points of white spotting on the wing and white tips on the outer tail feathers were lost out of account.

Of course it is the Oregon Towhee, and the half pleasant, half complaining notes will insure him notice forever after. The bird is strictly resident wherever found, and the unmistakable blackness of his plumage is due rather to the age-long endurance of rain than to any chance association with blackened logs and stumps, as might be supposed. Towhee is prince of the underworld, not, of course, in the Mephistophelian sense, but as the undoubted aristocrat among those humble folk who skulk under dark ferns, thread marvelous mazes of interlacing sticks and stalks, explore cavernous recesses of moss-covered roots, and understand the foundations of things generally.

The handsome bird is a little impatient of the company of his own kind, his faithful spouse always excepted; but he quite appreciates the mild deference of Rusty Song Sparrows, the bustling sociability of Western Winter Wrens, or even the intermittent homage of Seattle Wrens. In winter the Fox Sparrows attach themselves to this humble itinerant court, but they are a dozen times more bashful than their chief even.

Only at mating time does Towhee throw caution to the winds. Then he mounts a sapling and drones away by the hour. The damps of ten thousand winters have reduced his song to a pitiful wheeze, but he holds forth as bravely as any of his kin, _whééééé whééééé_, and again, _whééééé_. In winter the birds employ a peculiar hissing sound, _pssst_ or _bzzzt_, not I believe, as a warning—rather as a keep-in-touch call. It was rather heartening tho to hear the full song of Towhee on the 29th of December at Blaine. Comparisons were unnecessary, and the homely trill stood out like a benediction against the dripping silence.

In feeding, Towhees resort chiefly to the ground. They are not careful to observe quiet, and one may follow their movements by the attendant rustling of leaves. Scratching for food is a favorite employment, and this they pursue not by the methodical clutch and scrape of the old hen, but by a succession of spirited backward kicks executed by both feet at once, and assisted by the wings. By this method, not only fallen seeds are laid bare but lurking insects of many sorts, which the bird swiftly devours.

No. 67. LAZULI BUNTING.

A. O. U. No. 599. Passerina amœna (Say).

Synonyms.—Lazuli Finch.

Description.—_Adult male_: Head and neck all around cerulean blue; this color carried over upperparts but pure only on rump, elsewhere appearing as skirting of feathers; middle coverts broadly and greater coverts narrowly tipped with white; wings and tail otherwise black; some skirting of ochraceous on back, scapulars and tertials; lores black; chest ochraceous sharply defined from blue above but shading gradually into white of remaining underparts; sides and flanks with outcropping bluish dusky. Bill black above, pale bluish below; feet brownish dusky; iris brown. _Adult female_: Above grayish brown, the color of male recalled by dull greenish blue of rump and upper tail-coverts and by skirtings of wing- and tail-feathers; middle and greater coverts tipped with light buffy; underparts washed with buffy, most strongly on chest and sides, fading to whitish on belly and under tail-coverts. _Young_ birds resemble the female but lack the bluish-gray of rump and skirtings, and are usually more or less streaked below on chest and sides. Length of adult male: 5.25-5.50 (133.3-139.7); wing 2.87 (73); tail 2.08 (53); bill .39 (9.9); tarsus .67 (17). Female smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; color pattern of male distinctive,—female not so easy; in general distinguishable by a softness and uniformity of the grayish brown.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a loosely constructed, bulky structure made chiefly of dead grasses and strips of soft bark, with a heavy inner lining of hair; placed about three feet up in fork of weed, bush or sapling; measures, outside, 4¼ inches across by 3 in depth, inside, 2½ wide by 1½ deep. _Eggs_: 4, very pale blue unmarked or, rarely, dotted with reddish brown. Av. size .76 × .56 (19.3 × 14.2). _Season_: first week in June; one brood.

General Range.—Western United States from eastern border of Great Plains to the Pacific (less common on Pacific slope) north to southern British Columbia (chiefly east of the Cascades); south, in winter, to Cape St. Lucas and the Valley of Mexico.

Range in Washington.—Common summer resident east of Cascade Mountains; less common and of irregular distribution in the Puget Sound region; breeds in Cascades up to 3,000 feet.

Migrations.—_Spring_: Yakima County May 5, 1906; Chelan May 21, 1896.

Authorities.—_? Fringilla amœna_, Audubon, Orn. Biog. V. 1839, 64, 230; plates 398, 424. _Cyanospiza amœna_ Baird, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. 1858, p. 505. T. C&S. D¹. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss². J. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. P¹. Prov. B. E.

One can scarcely believe his eyes as this jewel flashes from a thicket, crosses a space of common air, and disappears again all in a trice. Either there has been some optical illusion, or Nature has grown careless to fling her turquoises about in such fashion. We must investigate. Upon arrival, somewhere about the 10th of May, and before the return of his dun-colored mate, the male Lazuli is quite conscious of his prominence in the landscape. He avoids notice and goes bounding away if closely pressed; but love soon makes him bold, and he will pursue the object of his affections into the very thicket where you stand. Then, while the female lurks timidly within, he mounts a spray and yields an outburst of music, piercing and earnest, if not too sweet. We see that his blue is deep azure, or turquoise, rather than that of the _lapis lazuli_ from which he is named. The red of his breast is nearly that of the Robin’s, while the pure white of the remaining underparts completes a patriotic study in red, white, and blue. The female shows something of the color pattern of her mate, with the important exception that dull brown supplants the royal blue of head and back. After all, then, they are fitted for separate spheres: she to skulk and hide and escape the hostile eye in the discharge of her maternal duties; he to lose himself against the blue of heaven, as he sings reassuringly from a tree-top, or sends down notes of warning upon the approach of danger.

The song of the Lazuli Bunting is a rambling warble, not unlike that of the Indigo Bunting (_C. cyanea_), but somewhat less energetic. Its brief course rises and falls in short cadences and ends with a hasty jumble of unfinished notes, as tho the singer were out of breath. Moreover, the bird does not take his task very seriously, and he does not burden the mid-day air with incessant song, as does his tireless cousin.

Somewhere in the shrubbery and tangle, whether of saplings, berry-bushes, roses, ferns, or weeds, a rather bulky nest is built about an upright fork, at a height of two or three feet from the ground. A nest observed in Yakima County was begun on the 19th of June and practically completed by the afternoon of the following day,—this altho the first egg was not laid until the 26th. “Hemp,” milkweed fibers, and dried grasses were used in construction, and there was an elaborate lining of horse-hair (poor dears; what _will_ they do when the automobile has fully supplanted the horse?).

_Amœna_ means pleasant, but the female amenity is anything else, when her fancied rights of maternity are assailed. Her vocabulary is limited, to be sure, to a single note, but her repeated _chip_ is expressive of all words in _dis_ from distrust to distress and violent disapprobation.

No. 68. BLACK-HEADED GROSBEAK.

A. O. U. No. 596. Zamelodia melanocephala (Swains).

Description.—_Adult male_: General coloration black and tawny varied with white and yellow; head glossy black, narrowly on chin, and with irregular invasion of tawny behind; back, scapulars, wings, and tail chiefly black; middle of back with much admixture of tawny; scapulars narrowly tipped with yellowish buffy or white, two conspicuous white wing patches formed by tips of middle coverts and basal portion of primaries; touches of white on tips of greater coverts and secondaries, and on outer edge of primaries; touches of yellow (in highest plumage) bordering white of wing-coverts, etc.; terminal third of two outer pairs of rectrices white on inner webs; lining of wings and breast centrally rich lemon yellow; remaining plumage tawny, brightest on throat and chest, with admixture of black on sides of neck; nearly as bright on rump, but veiled by lighter tips of feathers; lightening posteriorly on remaining underparts; nearly white on under tail-coverts; bill bluish gray, darker above; feet plumbeous. _Adult female_: Like male, but tawny of underparts paler; upperparts dark olivaceous brown with admixture of white and pale tawny; head blackish with white or brownish median and superciliary stripes; wings and tail fuscous, white markings restricted, those on tail reduced or wanting; sides and flanks streaked with dusky. Length 7.75-8.50 (196.85-215.90); wing 3.9 (99); tail 3.15 (80); bill .71 (18); depth of bill at base .59 (15); tarsus .95 (24).

Recognition Marks.—Chewink size; black head and variegated plumage of male; large beak, with haunts, distinctive.

Nesting.—_Nest_: a careless but often bulky collection of twigs or weed-stalks, lined, or not, with fine dead grasses; set loosely in branches of bush or sapling, 6 to 20 feet up. _Eggs_: 4, greenish blue, boldly spotted or blotched with reddish brown, dusky brown and lavender, most heavily about larger end. Av. size 1.00 × .68 (25.4 × 17.27). _Season_: East-side, May 20; West-side, May 25; one brood.

Authorities.—? “_Fringilla melanocephala_, Audubon, Orn. Biog. IV. 1838, 519; pl. 373 (Col. Riv.)”: Baird, 499. Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II. 1860, 206. T(?). C&S. Rh. D¹. Ra. D². Ss². J. B. E.

Specimens.—P. B. E.

Those who complain of our lack of song-birds should make the acquaintance of this really skilled musician. He will not often be found in the city parks, nor yet in the fir forests; but wherever there are deciduous trees, not too dense, or tall thickets of willow and alder beside some lake or sluggish stream, there will this minstrel hold forth. The Grosbeak’s song is not unlike the longer lay of the Robin, but it is richer and rounder as well as more subdued. There is about it all a lingering languor of the Southland; and if the gentleman addressed you, you would expect him to say “Sah,” with a soft cadence.

The bird’s carol has the rolling quality which serves to connect it with that of the eastern Rose-breasted Grosbeak, but it is sweeter, more varied, and shows, if anything, a still more strongly marked undertone of liquid harmonics.

The male Grosbeak is, moreover, an indefatigable singer, choosing for his purpose the topmost sprays of alder or cottonwood, and taking pains to give all intruders a wide berth during the concert hours. His attachment to a given locality becomes apparent only after he has been pursued from tree to tree in a wide circuit which brings up at the original station. And yet his shyness is not inspired by caution, for he will sing upon the nest when he spells his wife at the hopeful task of incubation.

The more matter-of-fact female has no word of greeting for the stranger beyond a sharp _kimp_, a beak-clearing note, not unlike that of a chicken with a crumb in its throat. This the male repeats also, with all shades of emphasis when the home is beset, or, as a last resort, he breaks into song at close quarters,—an ample price, surely, for the fullest immunity.

It is the nest which confirms the southern origin of these gentle birds. It is a flimsy affair of twigs, grass-stems, or weed-stalks carelessly interlaced, and caught in the crotch of a sapling at a height of from five to fifteen feet. The construction is so open, that the blue eggs with their dark brown and lavender spottings may be counted from below. The birds, you see, have been accustomed to a warmer climate, to a tropical range, in fact, where warmth of bedding is no object.

If found upon the nest, the brooding bird cannot think ill of you; or, if there is ground for misgiving, seeks to disarm hostility by a display of gentle confidence. Instances are of record where the sitting bird has been stroked with the hand, and a little discretion will usually insure a lasting friendship.

This species enjoys a wide range in Washington, being found from tide-water to the upper reaches of the deeper mountain valleys; but it is nowhere common enough, let alone abundant.

_Tanagridæ_—The Tanagers

No. 69. CRIMSON-HEADED TANAGER.

A. O. U. No. 607. Piranga ludoviciana (Wils.).

Synonyms.—Louisiana Tanager. Western Tanager.

Description.—_Adult male_: Back, wings, and tail black; middle coverts and tips of greater coverts yellow; remaining plumage rich gamboge yellow; clearest (lemon-yellow) on rump and upper tail-coverts, darkest (live-yellow to wax-yellow) on breast, changing on head and throat to bright carmine or poppy-red. The red increases both in extent and intensity with age and is always brightest anteriorly. Bill horn color; feet and legs bluish dusky; iris brown. _Adult female_: General plumage dingy olive-yellow; darker, nearly olive, above; lighter and clearer on under tail-coverts; wings and tail dusky with olivaceous wing markings as in male but yellow paler. _Young males_ resemble the adult female and only gradually acquire the clearer brighter plumage of maturity. Length about 7.00 (177.8); wing 3.75 (95); tail 2.80 (71); bill .59 (15); tarsus .80 (20.5).

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; sedate ways; _pittic_ note. Black and yellow with crimson head of male distinctive; dull olive of female not likely to be confused when size is discriminated.

Nesting.—_Nest_: of rather rough, “tropical” construction, composed of twigs, rootlets and moss, lined with horse- or cow-hair; measures externally 7 inches across by 3 in depth, internally 2¾ wide by 1½ deep. _Eggs_: 3-5, usually 4, pale greenish blue to deep blue, dotted and spotted sparingly with lavender and dark greenish slate, sometimes in wreath about larger end; surface heavily glossed; long ovate in shape. Av. size .92 × .64 (23.3 × 16.2). _Season_: June; one brood.

General Range.—Western United States from eastern base of Rocky Mountains to Pacific Coast, northward to British Columbia and Athabasca; south in winter to Mexico and Guatemala; straggling eastward during migrations—has been several times taken in New England.

Range in Washington.—Common summer resident in timbered sections, migrant in open country of East-side.

Migrations.—_Spring_: East-side: Yakima, May 4, 1906, May 9, 1900; Chelan, May 19, 1896, May 20, 1905; West-side: Tacoma, April 27, 1906.

Authorities.—_Piranga ludoviciana_ Bonap., Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. 1858, p. 304. T. C&S. Rh. D¹. Ra. D². Ss¹. Ss². Kk. J. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. P¹. Prov. B. E.

This handsome Tanager is one of the most characteristic birds of the more open forest areas of Washington, whether east or west. It is one of the three species discovered by the intrepid explorers, Lewis and Clark; and since the Lewis Woodpecker bears the name of one, and the Clark Nutcracker of the other, there was nothing for it but to call the Tanager after the region “Louisiana,” whose further reaches they were then exploring. But we are no longer a part of Louisiana, and we prefer a color-name for one of our few brilliant birds of plumage.

In the hand, the bright yellow of the male Tanager, shading into the bright crimson upon the head, would seem to assure a very conspicuous bird, but afield it is not so. Seen against the changing green of maples, pines, or fir trees, these brilliant colors are lost to any but the most attentive eye. A resplendent male does not hesitate to stand quietly upon the end of a branch and survey you until his curiosity is fully satisfied. This quiet attitude of genteel curiosity seems to be characteristic of all Tanagers. Apart from its psychological bearings, sedateness would seem to play an effective part in modifying the attractions of bright plumage.

The male birds precede the dull-colored females by several days, and at such times only may be found in companies. One windy afternoon in May, the 20th it was, while the Columbia River steamer doddered with its freight, I took a turn ashore and explored a tiny oasis of willows which lined a neighboring brook. I soon caught the _pitic_ or _pititic_ of newly-arrived Tanagers. Judge of my delight upon beholding, not one, but eight of these beauties, all old males, as they filed out of a willow clump, where they had evidently taken refuge for the day. A week or so later I saw Tanagers at home in the meager willow fringes of Crab Creek, in Lincoln County; and while we were in camp at Brook Lake in Douglas County, one came out thru the sage, hopping and flitting from bush to bush, to bring me friendly greetings. It was like meeting a king in a millet field.

The song of the Louisiana Tanager—pardon the lapse; habit is stronger than reason—the song of the Crimson-headed Tanager is an étude in R. “It is remotely comparable to that of the Robin, but it is more stereotyped in form, briefer, and tittered at intervals rather than continuously sustained. The notes are sharp-edged and rich in r’s, while the movement of the whole, tho deliberate, is varied, and the tone cheerful”[24]. I can detect no constant difference between the song of the Crimson-headed Tanager and that of the Scarlet Tanager (_P. erythromelas_), save that that of the former is oftener prefaced with the call note, thus: _Piteric whew, we soor a-ary e-erie witooer_. This song, however, is less frequently heard than that of the Scarlet Tanager, East. Its perfect rendition, moreover, argues the near presence of a demure little lady in olive, a person who looks like nobody in particular to our undiscriminating gaze, but who exerts a strange fascination over our brilliant squire. Young males of the second summer sing hopefully, but they are less often successful in love than their ruddier rivals.

It behooves the Tanager maiden to be exacting in her choice, for all the help she will get out of him at best will be sympathy and song. When it comes to real work, like nest building, she must do it. He will graciously advise as to the situation, some horizontal branch of fir or pine, from six to fifty feet high, and from three to twenty feet out. He will even accompany her on her laborious trips after nesting material, cooing amiable nothings, and oozing approval at every joint,—but help her—_nevaire_!