280 BULLETIN UNIVERSITY OF MONTANA 



song sparrow reversed, for it begins with the candenza, and ends with the 

 two, three, or four accented notes. At the southern end of Flathead lake 

 the western vesper sparrow is prominently abundant, and if it should 

 chance to be your fate, as it once was mine, to spend a Saturday and 

 Sunday at Poison waiting for the steamer, you will have ample opportunity 

 to become acquainted with the musical powers of this gifted songster. 



What limit shall we place to our definition of bird music? As we 

 sit in the Station grounds, we hear overhead and about us the sibilant 

 calls of the pine siskins, as they sport from treetop to tree in their social 

 movements. It is music to the ears of the bird lover, at least, if it will 

 not pass muster among the classic performances of the thrushes, tanagers, 

 and grosbeaks. The pine siskin has no song, but its calls fill a large place 

 in the avian chorus hereabout. One of its calls is a plaintiff "pee pee," 

 the same as that uttered by the goldfinch as it swings in its billowy flight 

 in the sunshine of late summer. 



When we brave the tangle of the thick arbor-vitae swamps that crowd 

 some portions of the banks of our splashing streams, we may hear the 

 singing of the winter wren. Indeed, we may hear it on the banks of the 

 Swan river, within fifty yards of the south end of the bridge near us. It 

 is a peculiar song, but it is real music, a gush of hurried, spirited semi- 

 demi-quavers, every note of which is emphasized by a movement of the 

 tail of the nervous little performer. On the rocky ridges of the "Big 

 Burn" east of the Station, the western house wren sings its roundelays, 

 with which you are doubtless rather familiar. In the swamps at the head 

 of Swan lake, we have the tule wren, the western representative of the 

 long-billed marsh wren. The singing of the three foregoing species has 

 a dcided generic resemblance, but the performance of each is character- 

 istic and worthy of special note in an extended study of Flathead bird 

 music. 



There are many voices which enter into the composite product of bird 

 music of this region, that can not have even a passing mention in a paper 

 of this length. One of our most common songsters, the olive-backed 

 thrush, has not been noticed because of our inability to describe its sing- 

 ing in any adequate terms. It is not a fine song, and is in no wise 

 worthy of comparison with that of its eastern relative the wood thrush, 

 but during our sojourn at the Station we hear it in numbers, and should 

 cultivate an ear for it. In the latter summer the evening grosbeak calls 

 with its loud chick-like chirp as it passes among the treetops in its daily 

 activities. Among the evergreens of the rock ledges we can identify the 

 grasshopper-like chirps of the kinglets, and in the lower woods the long- 

 tailed chickadee has an occasional word to say. Nuthatch and creeper 

 visit the Station grounds and announce their persence by their feeble 

 calls. The swallows twitter a-wing near our boarding-house. Our 

 enumeration of the bird-voices must close. I.et us remember the words 

 of the Great Teacher "He that hath an ear, let him hear," and though our 

 present application of the saying may somewhat pervert its meaning, let 

 us cultivate the faculty of hearing Nature's voice through the calls and 

 songs of the children of the air. 



