Notes from Field and Study 



209 



ing November, traces of red began to 

 appear about the base of the Red-heads' 

 throats and the bluish black wing coverts 

 of maturity commenced to show. The 

 birds are still slowly but surely assuming 

 their adult plumage. I have only once 

 seen them together, and for this reason 

 for some time thought that there was only 

 one, until one day I heard them answering 

 each other. They usually work on opposite 

 sides of the lawn, about two hundred 

 yards apart, but whether they ever 

 exchange territory I do not know. Neither 

 do I know if they keep apart through 

 inherited custom or because one is a bully 

 and will not tolerate the close proximity 

 of his partner. I have put suet in a num- 

 ber of trees that the Redheads frequent, 

 but have yet to see them touch it. It will 

 be interesting to find out if they can be 

 persuaded to winter here. — Maunsell 

 ScHiEFFELiN Crosby, Rkitiebeck, N. Y., 

 December 9, 1914. 



Red-headed Woodpecker Wintering in 

 Connecticut 



The Red-headed Woodpecker, so long a 

 rarity here in western Connecticut, has 

 again visited us. For two years now he 

 has been seen by a faithful few, and this 

 year one has stayed all winter thus far, 

 being seen first in November. He seems 

 to be spending his time in a small piece of 

 woods, with many big trees, quite near 

 the city and many houses. He is most 

 accommodating, for every person whom 

 we have sent to see him has not failed to 

 find him either carefully investigating the 

 top of some dead tree, or quietly watching 

 the traffic below. He seems very stolid 

 this time of year. — Bessie L. Crane, 

 Walerbiiry, Conn., Feb. 10, 1915. 



Notes on the Starling at Hartford, Conn. 



Although a bird student for many years, 

 the first Starling seen was not recognized. 

 This was on February 13, 191 1, at which 

 time there were only a few of these birds 

 in this vicinity, and, in fact, the daily 

 newspapers commented at considerable 



length on the appearance here of the 

 English Starling. Since the above date, 

 many have learned with regret that the 

 Starling is here, and very much here at 

 that, as race suicide seems not to have 

 pervaded his code of living. He is even 

 more prolific than the English Sparrow, 

 seems to have as good a hold on life, and 

 is possessed of more ingenuity in getting 

 a living, in that he will travel far to get 

 his meals when it is necessary. In the 

 winter of 191 2 the Starlings sought 

 shelter in many of the towers and spires 

 of the city, and seemed especially im- 

 pressed with the lofty twin towers of St. 

 Joseph's Cathedral. At that time there 

 was ample space for the two or three 

 hundred birds roosting there, and their 

 chatter could always be heard well into 

 the night. Their kind has multiplied 

 almost beyond belief, and last winter the 

 number roosting in these towers alone 

 was conservatively estimated at ten 

 thousand. They would come in just 

 before nightfall and rest in a grove of 

 trees opposite the cathedral, filling many 

 of the trees in such numbers that no tree 

 tops could be seen — only Starlings by the 

 hundreds. So many Starlings in the 

 towers soon became a problem, not only 

 to the priests but also to the worshipers at 

 the cathedral, and what was to be done 

 no one seemed to know. There were no 

 bells in the towers, nobody ever went up 

 into them, and none seemed to have the 

 heart to screen the latticed openings, and 

 so the birds held full sway. This past 

 winter the Starling menace has assumed 

 greater proportions than ever before, but 

 so far as St. Joseph's is concerned the 

 birds are the ones to worry and not the 

 people. In the early fall I watched, on 

 several occasions just at dusk, flocks 

 composed of Starlings, Red- winged Black- 

 birds, Crackles, and Cowbirds — number- 

 ing probably more than twenty-five 

 thousand birds — as they circled time and 

 again before dropping for the night into a 

 pine grove some two acres in extent. This 

 took place regularly every day, until 

 finally only the Starlings remained, 

 because of the migration of the other birds. 



