THE OSPREY. 



101 



to the trunk of the cedar, was not to be despis- 

 ed for he nibbled and pulled and twisted and 

 punctured it for quite a little while. 



The Sapsucker was with us for a long- time 

 this fall but left when the first real cold snap 

 visited Washington, and this was the first I had 

 seen of him for a month. The trees of our 

 orchard, almost all, can attest to his presence 

 for scarcely one has escaped his trade mark of 

 closeU', regularly placed bands of holes — so well 

 illustrated in the accompanying cut. 



Washington's Birthday, a mild though some- 

 what cloudy daj', found us in quest of Fish 

 Crows. We rented a boat and spent the morn- 

 ing rowing about Eastern Branch between the 

 railroad and Anacostia Bridge. It is quite easy 

 to distinguish the voices of the two forms. It 

 is equally easy to tell the Fish Crow from the 

 common member, when it is fi^-ing over the 

 water, fishing. But it is quite a different mat- 

 ter to tell which bird is which when, gun in hand, 

 you tr}' to stalk them, a feat which is very hard 

 to perform, since both species are verj' wary 

 and suspicious. The efforts of the morning re- 

 sulted in two common crows bagged, and fish 

 crows still a thing of the future. 



The warm weather had melted all the snow 

 and the miniature lakes in the low fields were 

 more attractive to them than the much hunted 

 shores of the stream. 



The bounding brush was alive with Song, 

 White throated and Canadian Sparrows, and 

 now and then a community of Snow Birds. As 

 we lay quietly in a sheltered sunny place, many 

 of these forms gathered about us. Even a fiery 

 Cardinal and his mate came and stayed with us 

 for a while. Occasionally a Song Sparrow 

 would mount a twig, a little higher than the 

 Alders, and make an attempt at song. Now 

 and then the sun would come forth, full blast as 

 it were, and show up the fleeting specks of 

 snowy gulls in the distance. It was a day when 

 one loves to lounge, to stretch and toss in idle 

 watchfulness. A day when one instinctively 

 listens for the hum of bees, in the willow, and 

 looks to see them lift their caps from their 

 downy catkins and spread these to the sun. 



Sundaj', March 4, was another pleasant day 

 and found us astir. We paid a visit to a place, 

 once our favorite, when we lived in Southwest 

 Washington, the Potomac Flats. The Song 

 Sparrow has recalled his half forgotten strains 

 and repeats strophe after strophe, changing to 

 another when tired of the one, to-daj', to-daj% 



to-day, to-day. He forgets to say, you come, 

 but changes and adds, to me, to me, to me, to 

 me, trill. His repertoire of strophes is great and 

 frequently during mating seasons, he fuses 

 these into a regular song, repeating tours or 

 parts of them, just as the mood strikes him. 

 At such times we become truly aware of the 

 fact that "melodia" and Song Sparrow are 

 aptly connected with this minstrel in white and 

 brown. 



On the right side of the median ridge, about 

 a quarter of a mile east of the railroad track, we 

 find the remains of what last fall was a dense 

 tall thicket of rag-weed; here White-throated 

 and Fox Sparrows skip ahead of us, seeking the 

 shelter of the adjacent dense, low, willows 

 which cover a great portion of the flats. We 

 take a seat on one of the fallen poplars which 

 once was a member of the rows which extended 

 through the centre, and listen to the many 

 voices about us. We are evidently being dis- 

 cussed but being too unattractive they all re- 

 turn to their business. Mr. Fox Sparrow is 

 more than busy to-day, there are so manj' dead 

 leaves, packed in ever so many places, each one 

 of which must be kicked over before he can 

 continue his journey to the north. He resembles 

 the Towhee In this respect for he also is a great 

 kicker. The ground which has been worked by 

 a small community- of Fox Sparrows, appears 

 as if a flock of quails might have passed that 

 way. Now and then one ceases work, leaves 

 the ground for a while, and gives vent to a little 

 of the happiness engendered \>y the returning 

 spring in such sweet and powerful tones that 

 we at once proclaiin him a singer of a master 

 type. 



At 'een we visited Fort Stanton to watch the 

 Sun set. On our return we pass Bryons Pond, 

 a little body of water scarcely' a rod in diameter 

 but to-daj' more than full of life and interest; 

 for Pickerings Hyla (Hyla pickeringi) and 

 Chorophilus feriarum are revelling here in 

 noisy comradeship. Were it day time one might 

 expect to see a Red-head perched somewhere on 

 the fence, for the voice of Chorophilus certain- 

 ly resembles that species very closely. Hyla on 

 the other hand gave vent to quite a series of 

 sentences, all pitched in a high key, some of 

 which sounded too much like j^e-ap-yap, and 

 ae-ap, ape, to suit our fancj'. We therefore left 

 these night warblers to enjoy their musical 

 revel in peace. 



SOME TRIALS OF A FIELD COLLECTOR. 



By Eugene S. Rolfe, Minnewaukan, N. Dak. 



In his search for birds and their nests and 

 eggs, man3' interesting and amusing adventures 

 are experienced b^' a zealous collector. A few 

 selections from my own experience, maj' amuse 

 the readers of the Ospkev. Four episodes 

 follow. 



Sixty Mii^es for a Goose Nest. 



In the spring of 1899, fifty miles out in a region 

 heretofore unsettled except for widely separated 

 cattle or horse ranches, I met a bright acquaint- 

 ance who stated that a pair of Canada Geese 



were nesting in a big slough near his place, some 

 ten miles distant, and that if I would drive over 

 he would point out the nest. The next day I 

 made the drive over sand dunes, trackless prairie 

 and stony hills, but a hard rain and night 

 fell together before I could find the little primi- 

 tive ranch buildings hidden in an obscure ravine 

 and I was obliged to retrace my weary way to 

 camp. Nothing daunted, I made the trip again 

 next day, but found no one at home and, after 

 prospecting about without success among a 

 wealth of lakes, slougfhs and marshes, I was 



