Part 23

Description.—_Adult male_: Head and neck all around and breast shining black; remaining upperparts dull black with glossy patches, changing to brownish black or fuscous on wings; a large salmon-colored patch at base of secondaries; a smaller, nearly concealed patch of same color at base of primaries; the outer web of the outer primary salmon nearly thruout its length; the tail feathers, except the two middle pairs, salmon-colored on both webs for the basal two-thirds; two large patches of reddish salmon on the sides of the breast; the lining of the wings and the sides extensively tinged with the same color, occasionally a few touches across the chest below the black; lower breast, belly, and crissum, white; bill black; feet dark brown; black in variable amounts on sides of breast between the orange red spots; lower tail-coverts sometimes broadly tipped with blackish. _Adult female_: Above, brownish ash with an ochraceous or olive tinge on back; salmon parts of male replaced by yellow (Naples yellow), and the reddish salmon of sides by chrome yellow; remaining underparts dull whitish, sometimes buffy across chest. _Immature male_: Similar to adult female, but duller the first year; the second year mottled with black; does not attain full plumage until third season. Length 5.00-5.75 (127-146.1); av. of five males: wing 2.59 (65.8); tail 2.17 (55.1); bill .36 (9.1); tarsus .70 (18).

Recognition Marks.—Medium Warbler size; black with salmon-red and salmon patches of male; similar pattern and duller colors of female and young; tail usually half open and prominently displayed, whether in sport or in ordinary flight.

Nesting.—_Nest_, in the fork of a sapling from five to fifteen feet up, of hemp and other vegetable fibers, fine bark, and grasses, lined with fine grasses, plant-down and horse-hair. _Eggs_, 4 or 5, greenish, bluish, or grayish-white, dotted and spotted, chiefly about larger end, with cinnamon-rufous or olive-brown. Av. size .68 × .51 (17.3 × 13). _Season_: June; one brood.

General Range.—Temperate North America in general, regularly north to Nova Scotia, the Mackenzie River (Fort Simpson), etc., west to southern Alaska, British Columbia, eastern Washington, Utah, etc., casual in eastern Oregon, northern California, and in the southeastern states; breeding from the middle portion of the United States northward; south in winter thruout West Indies, Mexico and Central America to northern South America.

Range in Washington.—Rare but regular summer resident in northern portion of State east of Cascades (Methow Valley, Grand Coulee, etc.), casual(?) in the Blue Mountains.

Authorities.—[J. K. Lord in “Nat. in Vancouver Id. and B. C.”, 1866, p. 162 (Colville Valley).] Brewer, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club. V., 1880, 50 (Ft. Walla Walla). D¹. Ss¹. J.

Specimens.—C. P¹.

The “start” of Redstart is from the old Anglo-Saxon _steort_, a tail; hence, Redstart means Redtail; but the name would hardly have been applied to the American bird had it not been for a chance resemblance which it bears to the structurally different Redstart of Europe, _Ruticilla phoenicurus_. In our bird the red of the tail is not so noticeable as is the tail itself, which is handled very much as a coquette handles a fan, being opened or shut, or shaken haughtily, to express the owner’s varied emotions.

The Redstart is the presiding genius of woodland and grove. He is a bit of a tyrant among the birds, and among his own kind is exceedingly sensitive upon the subject of metes and bounds. As for the insect world he rules it with a rod of iron. See him as he moves about thru a file of slender poplars. He flits restlessly from branch to branch, now peering up at the under surface of a leaf, now darting into the air to secure a heedless midge, and closing upon it with an emphatic snap, now spreading the tail in pardonable vanity or from sheer exuberance of spirits; but ever and anon pausing just long enough to squeeze out a half-scolding song. The paler-colored female, contrary to the usual wont, is not less active nor less noticeable than the male, except as she is restrained for a season by the duties of incubation. She is even believed to sing a little on her own account, not because her mate does not sing enough for two, but because she—well, for the same reason that a woman whistles,—and good luck to her!

During the mating season great rivalries spring up, and males will chase each other about in most bewildering mazes, like a pair of great fire-flies, and with no better weapons—fighting fire with fire. When the nesting site is chosen the male is very jealous of intruders, and bustles up in a threatening fashion, which quite overawes most birds of guileless intent.

Redstart’s song is sometimes little better than an emphatescent squeak. At other times his emotion fades after the utterance of two or three notes, and the last one dies out. A more pretentious effort is represented by Mr. Chapman as “_Ching, ching, chee; ser-wee swee, swee-e-e-e_.” Many variations from these types may be noted, and I once mistook the attempt of a colorless young stripling of one summer for that of a Pileolated Warbler.

Our Redstart shares with the Yellow Warbler alone the distinction of representing among us _in ipsa specie_ the Warbler hosts of the East. Even so, our scanty summer population of Redstarts, confined as it is to the northeastern counties, appears to represent an overflow of the eastern hordes, or, perhaps, the van of occupation, rather than regularly established citizens. I have seen them as far south as Brook Lake, and as far west as Stehekin only; but Mr. Allan Brooks records a specimen from Chilliwhack, in western British Columbia.

_Alaudidæ_—The Larks

No. 87. ALASKA HORNED LARK.

A. O. U. No. 474 a. Otocoris alpestris arcticola Oberholser.

Synonyms.—Arctic Horned Lark. Pallid Horned Lark. Winter Lark.

[_Description of type form, Otocoris alpestris._—_Adult male in breeding plumage_: A narrow patch across fore-crown with ends curving laterally backward and produced into a feather-tuft or “horn,” black; a broad bar from nostril to eye thence curving downward and expanding to involve hinder portion of cheeks and auriculars anteriorly, black; a crescentic patch across upper chest black; forehead and superciliaries pale yellow (primrose yellow) paling posteriorly; auriculars yellow continuous with and deepening into straw yellow of chin, throat and malar region; remaining underparts white, the sides and flanks dull vinaceous streaked with dusky; upperparts in general warm grayish brown, the middle of crown, occiput, nape, lesser wing-coverts and upper tail-coverts vinaceous-cinnamon; back, scapulars and rump grayish brown, each feather edged with paler and having dusky center; wings hair-brown with paler edgings, the outermost primary edged with white; tail chiefly black, the middle pair of feathers dusky, edged with whitish, the two lateral pairs edged with white. Bill black lightening below (basally); legs and feet black; iris dark brown. _Adult female in summer_: Like male but duller and paler, the black areas reduced in extent and obscured by brownish or buffy tips; yellow of superciliary stripe, etc., duller and paler; upperparts more noticeably streaked and with less of vinaceous tint on hind neck and upper tail-coverts. _Both sexes in fall and winter_ are somewhat more heavily and more uniformly colored save on black areas which are overcast by buffy or brownish tips; also forebreast dusky or obscurely spotted. _Young birds_ are heavily speckled above with yellowish white on brownish and dusky ground. Length of adult male: 7.00-7.50 (177-190); wing 4.37 (111); tail 2.83 (72); bill .48 (12.2); tarsus .94 (24). Adult female: 6.75-7.25 (171-184); wing 4.09 (104); tail 2.48 (63); bill .43 (11.1); tarsus .91 (23.2).]

Description.—_Adults_: Similar to _O. alpestris_ but upperparts paler and grayer, less warmed by vinaceous; no yellow (or merest tinge on head and throat)—white instead; size about the same.

Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; black crescent on upper chest; black cheek and crown patches; feather-tufts or “horns” directed backward. To be distinguished from _O. a. merrilli_ and _O. a. strigata_ by larger size and absence of yellow.

Nesting.—Not certainly known to breed in Washington but possibly does so above timber-line. _Nest_: a cup-shaped depression in the surface of the ground, plentifully lined with fine grasses, moss, grouse feathers, etc. _Eggs_: 3 or 4, greenish- or grayish-white, profusely and minutely dotted with olive-buff, greenish-brown and lavender. Av. size .95 × .66 (27 × 16.7).

General Range.—“Breeding in Alaska (except Pacific coast district) and valley of the Upper Yukon River, Northwest Territory; migrating southward to Oregon, Utah, Montana, etc.” (Ridgway).

Range in Washington.—Common winter resident and migrant east of the Cascades. Birds breeding on the higher mountains are doubtfully referable to this form.

Authorities.—_O. a. leucolæma_ (Coues), Dawson, Auk, XIV. 1897, 176. D². J.

Specimens.—Prov.

The Horned Lark bears the reputation of being the most plastic of American species—the Song Sparrow (_Melospiza melodia_) being a close second in this respect. A monograph by Mr. H. C. Oberholser[29] enumerates twenty-three forms, of which seventeen are described as North American, and four Mexican, beside one from Colombia (_O. a. peregrina_) and another (_O. a. flava_) from Eurasia. Of this number the majority occur west of the Mississippi River, where climatic conditions are more sharply differentiated, and where, especially in the Southwest, the situation allows of that permanent residence which is conducive to the development of subspecific forms.

The situation in Washington appears to be somewhat as follows: _O. a. strigata_, strongly marked, but showing relationship to _merrilli_, and likeness to _insularis_, of the Santa Barbara Islands, summers in western Washington in open prairies, and at low altitudes only. In winter it retires southward, or straggles irregularly eastward[30]. _O. a. merrilli_ is related to strigata on the one hand, and to _leucolæma_ (the Desert Horned Lark) on the other, but it curiously reproduces the appearance of _praticola_ (being indistinguishable in certain plumages); and also bears close resemblance to _giraudi_, a non-migrant form of the Gulf shore of Texas. It summers thruout eastern Washington, and even (doubtfully) occupies the western coast of British Columbia. An isolated colony occurring on Mount Baker, above timber-line, is referred by Oberholser to this form, but I should prefer to call it an intergrade with _arcticola_. In winter _merrilli_ retires completely from its Washington range, and its place is taken by _arcticola_, sweeping down from the highlands of British Columbia and Alaska in considerable numbers.

It is not at all difficult for one who is accustomed to the appearance of _merrilli_ to recognize these newcomers when they appear, late in October, for they are decidedly larger, more lightly colored, and show no slightest trace of yellow. They are much given to wandering about in straggling flocks, and the mild cries which they scatter freely have a subdued and plaintive tone, borrowed, no doubt, from the chastened character of the season. A sitting flock will sometimes allow a very close approach, but when they do so they “freeze,” so perfectly that the eye can scarcely find them. The only thing to do under such circumstances is to freeze also, until the birds begin to limber up and steal cautiously away, taking advantage, for concealment, of every tuft of grass or depression of the ground, and giving occasional admonitory _yips_ to their fellows.

No. 88. COLUMBIAN HORNED LARK.

A. O. U. No. 474 i. Otocoris alpestris merrilli Dwight.

Synonyms.—Dusky Horned Lark. Merril’s Horned Lark.

Description.—Similar to _O. a. strigata_ but somewhat larger and decidedly grayer above, streaks narrower and dusky rather than black; underparts not suffused with yellowish and yellow of head, especially superciliary, not so strong as in _O. a. strigata_. Length (skins) 6.25 (159); wing 4.05 (103); tail 2.32 (59); bill .43 (11); tarsus .85 (21.6).

Recognition Marks.—As in preceding; smaller, darker and more yellow than _O. a. arcticola_; larger, grayer and less yellow than _O. a. strigata_.

Nesting.—_Nest_ and _eggs_ as in preceding. Av. size of eggs .93 × .61 (23.6 × 15.5). _Season_: April-July; two or three broods.

General Range.—Breeding in northwestern interior district of the United States from northwestern Nevada and northeastern California north thru Oregon and Washington well up into British Columbia, east to Idaho; south in winter (at least) to central California.

Range in Washington.—Common summer resident and migrant east of the Cascades. Breeding birds of the high Cascades may possibly be of this form.

Authorities.—_Eremophila alpestris_, Brewster, B. N. O. C. VII. Oct. 1892, p. 227. D¹. Sr. D². Ss¹. Ss². J. E.

Specimens.—P¹. Prov. E(?).

A modest bird is the Columbian Horned Lark, for his home is on the ground, and he hugs its tiny shelters when disturbed, as tho quite assured that its brownness matches the tint of his back. If attentively pursued, he patters away half trustfully, or if he takes to wing, he does so with a deprecating cry of apology, as if the fault were his instead of yours. If his business keeps him in the same field, he will reappear presently, picking from the ground with affected nonchalance at a rod’s remove, or else pausing to face you frankly with those interesting feather-tufts of inquiry, supported by black moustachios and jetty gorget on a ground of palest primrose.

The unseeing class the Horned Larks among “brown birds” and miss the vaulting spirit beneath the modest mien. Yet our gentle Lark is of noble blood and ancient lineage. The Skylark, of peerless fame, is his own cousin; and, while he cannot hope to vie with the foreign bird in song, the same poet soul is in him. Whether in the pasture, upon the hillside, or in the desert, the coming of spring proclaims him laureate; and the chief vocal interest of nesting-time centers in the song-flight of the male Horned Lark.

The song itself is, perhaps, nothing remarkable, a little ditty or succession of sprightly syllables which have no considerable resonance or modulation, altho they quite defy vocalization; yet such are the circumstances attending its delivery that it is set down by everyone as “pleasing,” while for the initiated it possesses a charm which is quite unique. _Twidge-widge, widgity, widgy-widge_, conveys no idea of the tone-quality, indeed, but may serve to indicate the proportion and tempo of the common song; while _Twidge, widgity, eelooy, eelooy, idgity, eelooy, eew_, may serve the same purpose for the rare ecstasy song. The bird sometimes sings from a fence post, a sage bush, or even from a hummock on the ground, but usually the impulse of song takes him up into the free air. Here at almost any hour of the day he may be seen poising at various heights, like a miniature hawk, and sending down tender words of greeting and cheer to the little wife who broods below.

It is, however, at the sacred hour of sunset that the soul of the heavenly singer takes wing for its ethereal abode. The sun is just sinking; the faithful spouse has settled herself to her gentle task for the night; and the bird-man has lain down in the shadow of the fence to gaze at the sky. The bird gives himself to the buoyant influences of the trembling air and mounts aloft by easy gradations. As he rises he swings round in a wide, loose circle, singing softly the while. At the end of every little height he pauses and hovers and sends down the full voiced song. Up and up he goes, the song becoming tenderer, sweeter, more refined and subtly suggestive of all a bird may seek in the lofty blue. As he fades from the unaided sight I train my glasses on him and still witness the heavenward spirals. I lower the glasses. Ah! I have lost him now! Still there float down to us, the enraptured wife and me, those most ethereal strains, sublimated past all taint of earth, beatific, elysian. Ah! surely, we have lost him! He has gone to join the angels. “Chirriquita, on the nest, we have lost him.” “Never fear,” she answers; “Hark!” Stronger grows the dainty music once again. Stronger! Stronger! Dropping out of the boundless darkening blue, still by easy flights, a song for every step of Jacob’s ladder, our messenger is coming down. But the ladder does not rest on earth. When about two hundred feet high the singer suddenly folds his wings and drops like a plummet to the ground. Within the last dozen feet he checks himself and lights gracefully near his nest. The bird-man steals softly away to dream of love and God, and to waken on the morrow of earth, refreshed.

The Columbian Horned Lark enjoys a wide distribution thruout eastern Washington during the nesting season, the only requirement of the bird being open country. The convenience of water is no object, and the bird favors the undifferentiated wastes of sage, rather than the cultivated fields. Elevated situations are especially attractive, and thousands of these Horned Larks nest along barren, wind-swept ridges and on the smaller mountains where no other species can be found.

No. 89. PACIFIC HORNED LARK.

A. O. U. No. 474 g. Otocoris alpestris strigata Henshaw.

Synonym.—Streaked Horned Lark.

Description.—Similar to _O. alpestris_ but darker and much smaller, above streaked broadly with black and tinged with buffy; nape, rump and bend of wing more rufescent; underparts usually more or less suffused with yellowish. Adult female more strongly and handsomely marked than that of any other form. Length of adult male (skins) 5.98 (52); wing 3.85 (98); tail 2.59 (65.8); bill .44 (11.3); tarsus .82 (20.8).

Recognition Marks.—As in preceding; smaller, darker and more yellow than other local forms.

Nesting.—_Nest_ and _eggs_ as in preceding. _Season_: second week in May, second week in June; two broods.

General Range.—Breeding in Pacific Coast district of Oregon, Washington and British Columbia; “migrating to eastern Oregon and Washington, and northern California (Red Bluff; San Francisco)” (Ridgway).

Range in Washington.—Found breeding only on prairies west of Cascades, therefore chiefly confined to Pierce, Thurston and Chehalis Counties; said to winter on East-side.

Migrations.—_Spring_: last week in February; Tacoma, February 25, 1905, February 10, 1908.

Authorities.—_Eremophila cornuta_ Boie, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., IX. 1858, 404, 405. (T). C&S. L¹. Ra. B.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. B.

The prairies of Pierce, Thurston, and Chehalis Counties, so often referred to in these pages, are of comparatively recent formation—mere gravel beds leveled off by the action of a retreating sea—and so thoroly washed thru portions of their area as to be capable of supporting little else than a carpet of moss. The wanton recklessness of the Pacific Horned Larks, which inhabit these open stretches, is really but one degree removed from the modesty of their more fortunate kinfolk across the Cascades. It is modesty without opportunity; and that easily becomes shamelessness. For here the ground is of an uncompromising green, and the “cover,” afforded by slight depressions in the moss, is usually unworthy of the name.

The perfection of green barrenness was attained in the golf-links of South Tacoma, before they were surrendered to the demands of the growing city. Yet this was the very place where the Horned Larks appeared to the best advantage. Returning, as they did, about the 25th of February, in good seasons, they disported themselves like mad Pixies for a month or so, engaging in amorous pursuit and frequent song-flight; until in some way, late in April, domestic order began to emerge from the chaos of rival claims, and little homes dotted the prairie, where belted squires and red-jacketed ladies pursued the twinkling gutta-percha. The conflict of interests, avian and human, was sometimes disastrous to the birds. Mr. Bowles records three instances in which Larks were killed by flying golf balls; and another gentleman, himself a devotee of the game, tells me he once saw a bird struck dead in mid-air.

By the spring of 1906 matters had gone from bad to worse. The golf-links became a sort of common, despairingly resorted to by a few enthusiasts and a motley laity. The northwest portion of the section was staked out into lots, and the whole area was criss-crossed by roads and paths, whereby workmen, school-boys and delivery wagons hastened to and fro. Then it became the special pasture of a band of fifty cows, the lean kine of Pharaoh’s dream multiplied by seven; and to the terrors of two hundred heedless hoofs was later added a flock of sheep, being fattened for sacrifice at a neighboring slaughter-house. This common was also a favorite romping ground for children, while dogs simply went crazy upon it. I saw one rabid beast in a delirium of unfettered bliss do off about six miles in twice as many minutes, with a Horned Lark, flying low, as the invariable object of his chase. When to such conditions as these was added the scantiness of cover, one marveled indeed that the daffy Horned Lark still persisted upon his ancient heritage.

Yet on the 11th of April (the earliest record by far), in the barest of it, we marked a deep rounded cavity which Mr. Bowles declared belonged to the Streaked Horned Lark. Returning on the 27th, we found that the hole in the ground had become a bump instead. The bird, grown callous amid the impending evils, or else frankly intending to warn off trespassers, had filled the cavity full to overflowing, and had erected upon its site a monumental pile visible at a hundred yards. So zealous had the bird’s efforts been that the crest of the nest stuck up two and a half inches above the close-cropped landscape, and the bottom of the nest was above the ground. This creation was quite ten inches across, while it included upon its skirts bits of sod, cow-chips and pebbles,—a motley array, possibly designed to distract attention from the dun-colored eggs which the nest contained. The most lavish display of this sort of brumagem marked a runway of approach, offset by a corresponding depression upon the other side. The nest was composed chiefly of dried grasses and weed-stalks with soft dead leaves, and was lined, not very carefully, with grass, dried leaves, and a single white chicken-feather.[31]

Once the attention of the oölogist was directed to this structure, it rose from the plain like a pyramid of Cheops before his strained anxieties. It was torture to have to leave it for half an hour. How could that school-boy pass at twenty yards and not see it! Then, when I returned to reconnoiter, the dear cattle were just being turned loose for the morning, and they, forsooth, must straggle past it. At the end of another hour, unable longer to endure the suspense, I returned to perform the last offices. The band of sheep was out then, and they were drifting so perilously close, that I ran the last hundred yards to head them off, and none too soon. Yet that precious monument of simplicity held three eggs, unharmed until the advent of the man, who wrought the ruin surely, in the name of—Science(?). Consistency, thou art a jewel found in no egg-collector’s cabinet!