ARKANSAS KINGBIRD 67 



Dr. O. A. Stevens writes to me: "These birds are anionjj; the early 

 risers. Durin<^ midsummer they are about the first to be heard in 

 the morning, before the first streaks of daylight have appeared. 

 Dead limbs of trees and telephone wires are favorite perches. They 

 seem to have essentially one note, and while they certainly do not 

 sing, they make as much noise as any of our common birds. While 

 sitting quietly they repeat at frequent intervals a single kip. Oc- 

 casionally this is varied with a two-syllable quer-ich, and frequently 

 a four-syllable, rapidly delivered combination, the first two notes 

 being the most accented. Then there is the familiar clatter of still 

 more rapid notes, delivered especially while two of the birds hover 

 in midair, apparently about to engage in mortal combat. The voice 

 has a very dili'erent quality from that of the eastern kingbird, lacking 

 the very shrill, high-pitched character of the latter." 



Claude T. Barnes tells me that they make "while awing or while 

 resting, harsh, discordant notes like her-er-ip-ker-er-ip^ the number 

 of repetitions apparently depending upon the whim of the moment." 



W. Leon Dawson (1923) makes the amusing suggestion that "the 

 love song is, curiously, a sneeze. For the early notes are ridiculously 

 like the frantic protests of a prospective victim of cachination, fol- 

 lowed by an emphatic and triumphant relief : 

 an 2i an B, 



art an 



ail kuchez iwick^ an kuchei iwick/^- 



Enemies. — These kingbirds and their eggs and young are doubtless 

 preyed upon by the ordinary mammalian and avian predators that 

 attack other small birds, but they are valiant and often successful 

 in driving their enemies away from their homes. Dr. Koberts (1932) 

 tells of the vigilance of a pair of these birdi> in defending their 

 nestlings. The watchful parent "paid no apparent attention to other 

 birds that might enter the tree, but when a red squirrel appeared a 

 hundred feet away it made directly for it, attacking it vigorously 

 and forcing it to leave the neighborhood." 



Lt. McCauley (1877) tells an interesting story of how a "tree- 

 mouse" camped in the lining of a nest and devoured the contents 

 of the eggs ; he says : 



"The rascally little mouse had made himself completely at home. 

 Burrowing in the buffalo- wool, he had as warm and cosy a retreat as 

 mouse ever dreamt of or wished for. When hungry, he quietly 

 reached up, and his meal was ready and warm. It was purely a case 

 of 'free lunch' in nature. He had eaten all the eggs but two, his 

 retreat being full of fine pieces of egg-shells. Of those remaining, 

 he had sucked out nearly all the contents of one, and upon the other 

 he had also begun; a hole had been gnawed in the side of it, and the 

 embryo, which had been well advanced, was lifeless." 



