40 



A Gnatcatchers Strategy. 



while that expresses the mellowness of the 

 note on some days better than yank, they 

 are both descriptive, but though different 

 notes may predominate in given months, I 

 heard this morning — January i8 — from a 

 flock of nuthatches, every one of their notes 

 I have ever heard at any time of year. 



The nuthatch nests in holes in trees or 

 stumps, and its lightly spotted eggs, six or 

 eight in number, are laid on soft felty lining 



I am often surprised by discovering the 

 nuthatch at work in places where I despair 

 of finding any birds. One day in Decem- 

 ber when I went out the snow-covered 

 woods seemed to have fallen into the silent 

 slumber of a child. Not a breath came to 

 blow the white cap from the vireo's nest, or 

 scatter the heaped-up snow resting like 

 foam on the slender twigs. The snow that 

 had drifted up the side of the tree trunks 

 clung as it had fallen. In silence the 

 branches arched under their freight ; the 

 rich ochraceous beech leaves hung in 



masses under the snow — not a leaf rustled. 

 Overhead the twigs outlined in snow 

 made exquisite filigree against the pale blue 

 sky. But suddenly, as the forest seemed 

 to be holding its breath, the yank of the 

 nuthatch came first from one tree and then 

 another. A family of them were looking 

 for their dinner in the white woods. When 

 the snow covered the upper side of a 

 branch, they ran along upside-down on the 

 under side ; when the south side of a tree 

 trunk was white they ran, head down, on 

 the north side; and there, too, was the little 

 drummer — a downy woodpecker, flickering 

 from tree to tree — even here, the merry 

 band was finding a place for itself in nature. 

 As I passed on, fainter and fainter came 

 the note of the nuthatch. I looked back 

 through the woods; the blue sky was veiled 

 by snow clouds, but behind them shone the 

 southern sun, pervading them with that 

 wondrous radiance of white light that only 

 a winter sky can show. 



Florence A. Merriam. 



A GNATCATCHER'S STRATEGY. 



ALMOST every young naturalist knows 

 what a pretty home the little blue- 

 gray gnatcatcher {PoUoptila ccEriilea, Linn.) 

 constructs. Each pair, after mating, seek 

 some tree with a grayish bark, usually an 

 oak, maple or apple, and finding a horizon- 

 tal limb or convenient fork, they begin their 

 nest, building it principally from hair and 

 the fine fibres of various plants which they 

 weave very closely and compactly together. 

 Finally they cover the whole with a coat of 

 lichens, fastening them on with the finest 

 of wool or the silk of spiders' webs. This 

 lichen covering serves the useful purpose 

 of a mask, rendering the color of the nest 

 almost exactly that of the bark of the tree 

 on which it is built, thus hiding it from the 

 keen eye of the young oologist walking be- 



neath, or the keener eye of the crow or 

 hawk flying above. But there is one eye 

 sharp enough to detect it. For no matter 

 how deep and daik the ravine in which a 

 nest is hidden away ; no matter what aid 

 of nature has been called into use in ren- 

 dering it inconspicuous to the view of other 

 animals, necessity seems to lend a preterna- 

 tural sharpness to the vision of the female 

 cowbird, enabling her to discover, whenever 

 needed, a safe place of deposit for an Qgg, 

 destined to become at no distant day an 

 orphan which will be a heavy burden to its 

 foster parents. 



The nest of the blue-gray gnatcatcher 

 when completed, is usually very small, and 

 is cylindrical in form, not hemispherical, 

 like that of most other birds. One which 



