WESTERN BIRDS Tanager 



broods the eggs but I have seen the male come to the 

 nest and feed her. She also leaves the nest and forages 

 in the tree-tops. 



One summer when I camped in the Sierra Madre 

 Mountains, I was awakened every morning by the song 

 of the Tanager. They are migrants, only, in the valleys 

 but sometimes they sing. Always when I hear them I 

 am reminded of the solitude of the mountains, the big 

 trees, and the rushing water. 



The song is sung deliberately, two notes, a pause, then 

 two more, there being usually three of these groups with 

 a single note for the end. Pret-ty cher-rie, cher-rie, 

 cher the bird sings in accents far sweeter than one can 

 describe. As in the case of the Scarlet Tanager, one 

 can see a resemblance to the song of the Grosbeak and 

 the Robin, although one need never mistake one for the 

 other. The call note is a pee-tic and tu-weep, quite dif- 

 ferent from the call of the scarlet cousin. 



These gorgeous birds pass through Los Angeles and 

 vicinity in April or May, and they nearly always pay me 

 a call. The mulberry tree was the camping ground of 

 three splendid males this last spring and they sang as 

 they foraged. The bird table, loaded with bread, suet, 

 and oranges also attracted them. There were no females 

 about and I believe that the males come on ahead. 



One of these males fell into my keeping on the second 

 of May, having been picked up in the early morning. 

 One wing was injured so that it could not fly. When 

 placed in my bird bungalow it hopped about on the 

 perch and was not particularly shy. It ate halved 

 oranges and mulberries and a food that most birds like 

 and thrive on — the yolk of a hard-boiled egg and a 

 small mealy potato mashed together, with a pinch of 

 red pepper. For two weeks we had to keep him in 

 captivity and then his wing was well and he flew away 

 to his canyon home. 



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