434 BULLETIN 162, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM 



difficult to pick out individual songs. In a large colony the volume of sound 

 produced was so great that it carried readily for a distance of a mile and yet 

 the tone produced was so soft that it was not deafening when near at hand. 

 On the contrary the whole formed an undertone, continuous, and to my ear not 

 unpleasing, that did not intrude sharply on the senses, of so vague a nature 

 that faculties perceptive to sound soon became accustomed to it, so that through 

 constant repetition it might pass unnoted. Although it filled the air with the 

 same effect as that produced by the rushing of water, other sounds, the song 

 of a Redwing or a Lucy's Warbler, the cooing of a Mourning Dove or the stamp- 

 ing of a horse, were heard through it clearly even when such noises originated 

 at some distance. The effect as a whole was most remarkable and, once expe- 

 rienced, lingers long in memory. 



Major Bendire (1892) says: 



Their call notes are varied, much more so than those of any other species of 

 this family found with us ; they are sonorous, pleasing, and rather musical. On 

 this account the natives keep many of them as cage birds, calling them Paloma 

 cantador, Singing Dove. They soon become very gentle and reconciled to cap- 

 tivity, feeding readily out of one's hand and allowing themselves to be handled 

 without fear. 



One of their most characteristic call notes bears a close resemblance to the 

 first efforts of a young Cockerel when attempting to crow, and this call is fre- 

 quently uttered and in various keys. While thus engaged the performer usually 

 throws his wings upward and forward above the head and also spreads his tail 

 slightly. Some other notes may be translated into " cook for you," or "' cook 

 for two," " cook-kara-coo," besides a variety of calls, one of these a querulous 

 harsh one, resembles somewhat the syllables " chaa-haa." 



The commonest note, as I recorded it, might be written " who cooks 

 for you," and I notice that several others have so recorded it. Swarth 

 (1920) very aptly remarks that it is "given with rather insulting 

 emphasis." To my ear it sounds rather like a soft rendering of one 

 of the common notes of the barred owl. Its monotonous repetition 

 becomes rather tiresome, but it is an impressive performance, which 

 once heard can never be forgotten. Dawson (1923) says: 



In uttering this note the bird throws his head well forward and closes his 

 eyes ecstatically (thereby disclosing a livid blue eyelid), but he does not open 

 his beak. In defiance of all the masters, he sings through his nose. The effect 

 is charming, it must be admitted, but one can not help wondering what the 

 sound would be if only the bird would " sing out." Chanticleer's effort would 

 surely pale beside it. 



Fall.— Gilman (1911) writes: 



As soon as the young are grown both they and the parents congregate in 

 large flocks and fly from feeding ground to watering place, thus affording a 

 good chance at wing shooting. One evening in twenty minutes I counted over 

 700 fly past a bridge over a small irrigating canal. 



The gunner, in these birds, has a good test of his skill, as they fly very 

 rapidly with seemingly little effort, and the rate of speed is hard to estimate. 

 They will carry off a large load of shot, too, and all things considered are a 

 fine game bird. 



