20 



THE OSPREY. 



burned. The nest was composed of leaves and 

 some grass and a little moss, and had a complete 

 lining- of down. The eggs, b in numbei*, were 

 white, and wei"e more round than most duck eg^gs. 

 June 13, 1899, found me near the lake 

 again, but farther oft" in a thicket, watching- a 

 Cardinal whose nest I knew was near. To my 

 left was a tall bank where a lot of trees had 

 fallen, and which was overgrown with hazel 

 bushes. I heard a whistle of wings, iind looked 

 up just in time to see a Merganser settle down 

 near an old stump. I waited about five or ten 

 minutes, and then walked quieth' up to where I 

 saw her light. When about five feet from the 

 place, she jumped up with a quack, and started 

 for the lake. 



Now, I have several keys and other books, and 

 they all say the Hooded Merganser nests in 

 hollow trees and stumps, but this nest was on 

 the ground under the roots of the stump, in a 

 sort of a cave that was about fourteen inches 

 back under the stump. The nest was composed 

 of about the same material as the other, but did 

 not have as much down. There were only 4 eggs 

 in the nest so I left it until the 17th when I col- 

 lected them as only one more had been laid. On 

 blowing them, incubation was just preceptible. 

 The nest was in such a dark place that to photo- 

 graph it was impossible without over-exposing 

 the outside. The down made the eggs hard to 

 distinguish.* 



ROBIN RECITALS AND VARIATIONS. 

 Bv P. M. SiLi^oWAY, Roodhouse, Illinois. 



To my knowledge, the singing of the Robin 

 has never received sufticient attention as illus- 

 trative of the power of improvisation character- 

 istic of many of our songsters. Whenever I 

 listen to Robin music, I hear phases of execution 

 that I had not even imagined. One morning 

 last summer I heard the low, squeak}' falsetto of 

 a Robin, and soon I espied the performer upon a 

 fence across the road from me. Near him was a 

 female, evidently the inspiration of the im- 

 promptu. The song was fairly continuovis, j^et 

 so low and subdued were the measm-es that they 

 scarceh' reached my ear, and mj' 12-year old 

 boy, taking a lesson in nature study with me, 

 noticed the peculiar execution of the sotig- and 

 inquired, "What's the matter with that Robin? 

 What makes him sing so low"? 



Upon first hearing the song% I fancied that the 

 musician was far across the neighboring- mea- 

 dow; but the high pitch of the song and certain 

 movements of the lyrist set me right as to the 

 origin of the melody. In the fervor and passion 

 of the improviser, he frequently spread his tail 

 slightly, raising it from the drooping- position; 

 and crouching- somewhat on the rail, with 

 feathers in fluft'y disarrangement, he hopped 

 along his perch, either singing- as he hopped or 

 else beginning another series of flutings as he 

 shifted further from his lady-love. Every note 

 was uttered in the falsetto, and repeatedly the 

 ardent suiter squeaked his pianissimo madrigals. 



East June, my attention was attracted to a 

 Robin in poetic mood. It was in the forenoon, 

 and I was enjo^dng- the shade of a porch front- 

 ing the city street. The familiar carols were in 

 harmony with time and surrounding-s, and not 

 until I perceived their increasing nearness did I 

 give them special attention. The performer 

 was in contemplative mood, so far as that g-oes 

 with Robins, for after several repetitious of the 

 softened measures, he yielded to the spirit of 

 reverie and stopped the flow of melody. 



Soon another eloquent improvisation claimed 

 my attention. I beg-an to look for the .songster 

 vipon one of the convenient perches on fence or 

 housetop or in adjacent trees. Another nearer 

 performance directed my gaze to the gi'ound, 



and there was the feathered lyrist — the first 

 Robin that had sung- for me from such lowly 

 situation. Thus he continued to sing at inter- 

 vals while hopping over the ground, stopping 

 now and then to express something- of his happy 

 lot, and drawing nearer after each stanza as 

 thoug-h he sought to interest me in his emotional 

 recital. 



One April morning- I heard a Robin caroling- 

 in a low apple tree. The performer would utter 

 several measures or "trill-er-ees" in the regular 

 contralto of these songsters, and immediately 

 follow them with two or three similar measures 

 in the higher falsetto. He seemed to like the 

 latter style of execution more than the former, 

 for he frequently used the falsetto alone, thus 

 representing- a noticeable instance of preference 

 in the expression of his emotions. 



There is a question whether the birds are not 

 sometimes deceived in regard to the weather. 

 They are generally reputed to be very weather- 

 wise, but it is a matter of common observation 

 that early Robins and Bluebirds frequently have 

 occasion to regret their hardihood in venturing 

 into the open prairie regions at the first indica- 

 tions of vernal weather. Whether the birds are 

 misled into looking- for settled weather, or 

 whether their love of summer associations leads 

 them to brave the uncertainties of northern 

 spring-, is not clear. 



The actions of a lone Robin on a morning of 

 November last fall led me to reflect that the 

 birds sometimes really mistake the season. My 

 attention was drawn to a Robin song, and in 

 the summit of a leafless cottonwood the lone 

 lyrist was perched, more than half a block from 

 my point of view. His song" was not one of the 

 .loud, rejoiceful carols of a spring evening, but 

 it was wonderfully clear and sweet, vibrating- 

 through the genial frosty air of the November 

 morning. For main' minutes the songster 

 caroled his measures at intervals, interlarding a 

 few squeaks in approved Robin fashion; then, 

 with several squeaks of alarm, he dropped from 

 his perch and went coursing through the air. 

 Thus I g-ained a new feature to add to the char- 

 acterization of our intimate, that of singing 



*Mr. Rinker sent, with his article two photographs of the nests with permission to publish if we thought best but. 

 as he has indicated, the conditions were such as to prevent obtaining distinct pictures, and as those taken would not 

 have elucidated his article we do not present them.— Editor. 



