66 



THE OSPREY. 



to be the only bird in charg-e of this place, 

 unless we include the noisy crow and his hoarse 

 relative, the Fish crow, as occupants of the 

 park. Deep in the timber, a Flicker is sound- 

 ing" his hif^h note but no response rewards his 

 call. 



As we follow the footpath to the left, down 

 throug'h the forest, we see many crows, and a 

 few insulting remarks in crow lanj^uagfe draw 

 the wrath of a whole pack upon us. Rig-ht here 

 it is that we see for the first time a specimen of 

 the Black Vulture (Cal/iai-isfa afrafa) within our 

 territory. We are not the least in doubt, because 

 our onlj' other representative of the tribe is 

 present also, and gives us a chance to make a 

 comparison. 



When flying the Black Vulture seems smaller 

 but of broader wing. The posterior edge of the 

 spread wing and tail form an almost continuous 

 line, which is not the case in the Turkey Buz- 

 zard or Vulture (Caf/iaiics aura) whose caudal 

 appendage projects considerably. We continue 

 our march, noting naught but a moth which we 

 have frightened froin a twig, until we reach the 

 pine coppice. Here we fall in with one of those 

 motle}' roving crowds, which one frequentlj' 

 meets at this season. Such a band adds life 

 and beauty to the most cheerless of the drearj' 

 days, and makes the woods resound with joy 

 and gladness. 



A flock of Myrtle warblers — perhaps two 

 dozen — are sporting in the branches of the 

 young tulip trees which skirt the pines. The 

 metallic click click, click click, click click, 

 causes us to turn our heads in the direction of a 

 single Crossbill flying over. We are, however, 

 soon called back from our meditation by the 

 many voices which surround us. Tufted tits 

 and Chickadees vie in the expression of their 

 notes and a Brown creeper occasionally adds his 

 long drawn utterance as he works his spiral 

 course up some trunk. 



The White-bellied and Red-breasted Nuthatch 

 are also present, but the latter can not pro- 

 nounce the loud quank, quank, quank, as it 

 busily gleans the trunk and branches. Its voice 

 is weaker and sounds smothered. Kinglets, 

 ever busy, skip about the dense pine foliage and 

 lisp their lively zip zip, ze ze, as they flirt their 

 wings. 



At the base of the pine coppice we have an old 

 moat, a relic of the days when north and south 

 were at strife. This passes through an extremelj^ 

 small swampj' spot, where a silent Winter Wren 

 bobs out his solitarj^ existence. He is a cui'ious 

 bit of nature, as interesting as he is comic. 



On the outskirt of the timber near the little 

 creek, on its sovxthern border, we surprised a 

 small bunch of Purple finches feeding in the 

 the very top of a tall tulip tree. As we follow 

 the little rill in its downward course, we soon 

 get into a tangle of briers, tall weeds, brush, 

 willows, locust, etc., etc. Here we meet another 

 merry band, but this time of an entirely difter- 

 ent nature. It seems composed of hundreds of 

 individuals, including Song, White-throated, 

 Tree, Field and Chipping Sparrows, with a 

 sprinkling of pretty Juncos and several pairs of 

 our beautiful Red-birds. Thej^ are all more or 

 less silent, only sounding their call notes, or 



answering in the low under tone of the season. 

 We have crossed the track and have ap- 

 proached the river. Our eye scans the wide 

 expanse of water. The city with its many 

 prominent landmarks lies before us; the capitol, 

 the gilded dome of the library, and the arsenal 

 right opposite; to the left the monument, and 

 away ofl', on the hill beyond it, Arlington, the 

 final resting place of many a hero, where 



"On fame's etei-nal camping ground 



Their silent tents are spreud. 

 And glory guards with jealous round. 



The bivouac of the dead". 



Our e^'es catch sight of a few white flecks 

 floating through the clear sky. How they 

 glisten as they present a certain view to Old Sol. 

 then almost disappear. They are our beautiful 

 Bonaparte gulls, which remain with us as long 

 as the weather is moderate enough to keep the 

 river open. An occasional Herring gull can be 

 distiTiguished by its larger size and slower beat 

 of wing. One after another passes by us and 

 we note that most of them are young birds, 

 which have as yet to put on their pearly white 

 garb. Quite a distance from shore we note a 

 flock of dticks floating lightly on in the mirrory 

 surface, while three Grebes appear to be holding 

 a natatorial contest, in which diving appears 

 to be the chief number. 



Reluctantly we turn awaj' from a scene so 

 calm and beautiful. We regain the timber and 

 by another path advance to the top of the hill 

 which aftords a more elevated outlook upon the 

 river and the city. At last we return to our 

 starting point, regretting the approach of the 

 night shades which are already hovering to 

 wrap all this beauty in their mantel of somber 

 dusk. 



December 24. — Drizzle, drizzle and rain, inter- 

 changeable, seems to be the order of the day. 

 We had promised to proctire a spruce for a 

 Christmas tree, but as always, have failed to do so. 

 We therefore start out for a substitute -a pine — 

 Rubbers, leggings, mackintosh, and slouch hat 

 are donned. Pat, pat, pat we waddled along 

 the muddy i^oad on otir way to Fort Stanton 

 which we intended to leave minus a fine young 

 pine. 



As we saunter along through the pines we 

 suddenly fall in with a small flock of Juncos, 

 which seem to be not in the least disconcerted on 

 account of the rain, but appear to be holding a 

 Sunday meeting. They lend emphasis to their 

 remarks by the opening and closing of their tail, 

 thus exhibiting the white outer feathers of that 

 member. I wonder if Junco really knows how 

 the display of these bits of white set off his trim 

 form! A ntiinber of Crossbills are also present 

 and one even permits me to approach within 

 several feet of him. A little later, at a dift'erent 

 place, I heard one flying — crossbills always 

 sound their click click, click click, click click, 

 when on wing, and I placed mj' finger to my 

 lips and gavc'the customary squeek, which lures 

 so many of our birds; straightvvays he accepted 

 the invitation, changes his course and alights 

 in the pine above me. After looking for good 

 company in vain for a while, he resmnes his 

 journey. We note a few goldfinches in a similar 



