Notes from Field and Study 



109 



finally flew to a spruce tree on the other 

 side of the house, where for about five 

 minutes they gave every opportunity to 

 study them at close range. 



The large white patches on the wings 

 and white tips on the dark tail feathers 

 were very prominent. 



The yellow forehead with black crown, 

 the heavy bill, and the body of a soft 

 yellow color, black wings and tail, made 

 identification very easy. 



I presume these little strangers will be 

 heard from in other parts of Connecticut. 

 — Mary Hazen Arnold. 



[The context shows that this observa- 

 tion was made in Connecticut, but the 

 observer does not give her address. — Ed.] 



Martin Problems 



I should like those readers of Bird- 

 Lore who have accurately observed the 

 habits of the Purple Martin to tell me if 

 my experience of the past summer is a 

 common one and what it means. For 

 several years I have had a Martin house 

 of ten rooms, only one room of which has 

 ever been occupied and that always the 

 west attic. This year (1915) on May 22, 

 after visiting a short time several times a 

 day for a week, three Martins, one male 

 and two females, finally located in the 

 house. June i the birds began carrying 

 nesting material into both west and east 

 attic rooms. The male seemed to work in 

 the west room only, and one day was 

 seen taking in green cherry leaves from a 

 nearby tree. Only one male bird was 

 ever seen about the house, so I con- 

 cluded that this was a polygamous family. 



The east room was not easy of observa- 

 tion, so I could not be sure of all that took 

 place there, but know that it was occu- 

 pied by a female all summer and that a 

 nest was built. The male seemed to sleep 

 in the west room, both birds going in at 

 dusk. When incubation began, the male 

 occupied one of the south rooms. July 7, 

 a young Martin was found dead under the 

 house on the west side. 



He was very tiny, and could not have 

 been more than a day old at most. His 



neck was as thin as a darning needle but 

 his stomach was as large as a hickory nut, 

 and just as hard. Thinking the bird 

 abnormal, I opened the stomach only to 

 find everything right, the abdomen being 

 big and hard because of the great number 

 of bugs and flies it contained. July 16 I 

 went out of the city, so did not see the 

 young leave the house. For several 

 days previous to this, a baby Martin was 

 constantly at the door, and I believe there 

 was only one young bird. 



My last year's family consisted of only 

 two young birds, but one of which lived 

 to fly from the house. 



Neither eggs nor birds were found in the 

 east room. Now, was this a polygamous 

 family, or was it one pair of Martins and 

 a non-mating female? Might it not have 

 been my family of last year? I will appre- 

 ciate answers from readers of Bird-Lore. 

 — (Mrs.) May S. Banner, Canton, Ohio. 



A Bold Winter Wren 



On November 7, 1908, 1 had been stand- 

 ing for some time motionless, watching 

 the antics of a Winter Wren which was 

 foraging in a brush-heap piled against a 

 fence. The Wren was very much occupied 

 and paid no attention to me, as I stood 

 about ten feet away. I had on a brown 

 suit, and was certainly not a very con- 

 spicuous object. Suddenly the Wren 

 appeared in a corner of the fence with a 

 long morsel, the larva of some insect, in 

 his bill. Evidently this a tid-bit which 

 should be eaten leisurely for enjoyment. 

 At any rate, after peering about he caught 

 a glimpse of me standing conveniently 

 near. And much to my surprise, with no 

 hesitation, he flew straight at me and 

 alighted on the side of my coat. I could 

 feel his movements through the cloth. 

 He clung there several seconds. But, in 

 my attempt to get a better look at him, 

 I doubtless moved. For without a sound 

 or show of alarm he flew back to the fence 

 and finished his morsel. I do not think 

 the Wren implied that I was a stick, but 

 he certainly believed me to be a tree! — 

 Edward J. F. Marx, Boston, Pa. 



