186 U.S. NATIONAL MUSEUM BULLETIN 23 7 tart i 



Winter. — Alexander F. Skutch has sent us an excellent account of 

 the winter habits of the dickcissel in Costa Rica. It is presented in 

 its entirety, although a brief excerpt has already been given in the 

 section on food. "Dickcissels reach Guatemala by the last week of 

 August and Costa Rica by the beginning of September. During the 

 winter months they are distributed widely over Central America, 

 particularly in the lowlands of the Pacific side and in the interior up 

 to about 5,000 feet. They live in close flocks of few to many indi- 

 viduals, and are frequently abundant in regions where rice is grown. 

 I have enjo3^ed only transient encounters with them except in 1939, 

 when I dwelt near San Isidro del General at about 2,200 feet above 

 sea level. The little rustic cabin that I had rented for 6 months 

 stood on a rise of ground in a bushy pasture facing the meandering 

 Quebrada de las Vueltas, whose sluggish current was shaded by low 

 trees and shrubs. Beyond the stream was a level field of rice several 

 acres in extent. I first saw dickcissels in some bushes close to the 

 house early in the morning of January 26, the day when the farmer 

 began to harvest his rice. Later in the morning I watched one of 

 these birds eating grain at the edge of the field, as doubtless other 

 members of the flock were doing deeper in the stand of rice where I 

 could not see them. Despite the removal of the standing grain, the 

 flock of dickcissels continued to frequent vicinity for the next 2 

 months, possibly finding fallen grains amidst the stubble. 



"As early as my first meeting with the dickcissels on January 26, I 

 heard them deliver brief, hurried snatches of song, punctuated by 

 their rather harsh, 'thick' monosyllabic call note. All through 

 February I continued to hear their calls at sunrise, and often, too, 

 shortest wisps of song. On February 27 I watched a male who 

 perched on a dry weed stalk at the edge of the stubblefield, and sang 

 a whisper-song so low that I might not have credited my ears, had I 

 not at the same time watched the vibrations of his throat through my 

 fieldglasses. In March this songfulness increased. Every morning, 

 as the sun floated up above the wooded crest of the eastern ridge and 

 sent its first cool beams through the chill gray mist which during the 

 night had settled over the valley, the dickcissels gathered in the bushes 

 that lined the banks of the river in front of my cabin, and on the tall 

 weeds and shrubs in the adjoining pasture. Here the males, often 

 several resting in the same bush, sang with zeal that increased as the 

 season advanced and the date of their northward departure drew 

 nigh. I have never met the dickcissel on his nesting-ground and know 

 not what gifts of minstrelsy he may there display, but here his music 

 was of most inferior quality — a sort of animated chirping, rising and 

 falling, and punctuated frequently by sharper, detached chips. This 

 homely performance was continued for minutes together; and often 



