September 



1891.] 



AND OOLOGIST. 



137 



ory my far distant liome and many a ramble iu 

 tlie widely different woods of Ontario. But 

 tliougli the song notes of this tenant of the 

 wild woods of '• the land of the setting sun " 

 closely resembles those of our Eastern Winter 

 Wren, there was in it this distinguishing dif- 

 ference, — it rose not so high and was more 

 scattered. It was as thougli tlie stream of a 

 tiny fountain, thougli issuing out and upward 

 in a column, failed to reach its intended ele- 

 vation and fell backward in scattering spray. 

 Two days afterw.ards I took a ramble to wh.at 

 is there known as " the Langly Prairie." a fine 

 agricultural settlement about six miles east 

 of Port Kells, and some miles south of the old 

 Fort Langly village on the Eraser River. The 

 first two miles, after leaving the clearing at 

 " tlie port, " was by a narrow road, cut and oc- 

 casionally crosswayed, through the most dense 

 and gloomy forest that I had yet seen. Be- 

 yond the roadw.iy it was almost impossible to 

 penetrate this wood, so thick stood the timber 

 and log-strewn the ground, and so tall were the 

 trees, and dense the foliage tliat the rays of 

 the sun could not in places reacli the surface of 

 the earth even at mid-day. For a time I felt 

 somewhat uneasy as I liad been told that I 

 might meet a bear, a wild cat, or even a 

 panther, and I carried only a walking stick. 

 But as I progressed onward, the rays of the 

 advancing sun filtering through tl*e deep foli- 

 age, in a measure dispelled the gloom of the 

 morning hours, wliile the streamlets rippling 

 their w.iy by the sides, or across the road, to- 

 gether with the varied call and song notes of 

 many birds, most of them new to me, lent an 

 agreeable cheerfulness to the otherwise awful 

 solitude. But of the different species of the 

 Columbian avifauna whose presence and vocal 

 etforts affected this wilderness none attracted, 

 and retained for the time, my attention more 

 than the Western Winter Wren. Here on 

 each side of the roadway numbers of them 

 were in full song, but tliough at times some of 

 them were only a few yards distant, yet owing 

 to the thickness of the foliage and lai'geness of 

 the leaves, their persons for the most part 

 were invisible. When a glimpse could be ob- 

 tained of the bird itself you see a little brown- 

 ish-colored creature with a turned-up tail, full 

 of life and song, whose whole body quivers 

 with emotion in the emission of its music, and 

 who seems so conscious of its own importance 

 in the economy of nature that it declines to 

 be interviewed by human kind, and when 

 closely approached immediately seeks the 

 deepest concealment. 



For a time I stood and listened to the plea.s- 

 ing performances of these musicians of the 

 western wilds, and left with the impression 

 that there was in their serenades as much 

 manifestation of jealous rivalry as expressions 

 I of love aud joyousness. 



Iu describing the localities where the subject 

 of discourse has its haunts and home, the stu- 

 dent of ornithology requires to be somew hat 

 particular — especially if the field is new — 

 for thereby the reader conceives more correct 

 ideas of the life history of the species by 

 wliose presence and voices the scenery is 

 affected. This species appears to be met with 

 in various regions west of the main chain of 

 the Rocky ilouutains, but I infer that like our 

 Winter Wren it is of rather local distribution, 

 inhabiting chiefly the densest woods in the 

 more level valleys, and does not much affect 

 the higher and more rocky mountain 

 regions, though occasionally met with in 

 glens and caiions amidst the most varied 

 mountain scenery. 



When at Victoria, in Vancouver Island, I 

 interviewed Mr. John Fannin, curator of the 

 Government Museum, by whom I was shown 

 through the collection of that institution. 

 That gentleman, in addition to other informa- 

 tion relating to the natural history of British 

 Columbia, informed me that he had in the col- 

 lection a specimen of the nest and eggs of the 

 Western Winter \Vren that had been collected 

 on that island, and were previously unknown 

 to science, but there was no notable dif- 

 ference between tliem aud those of their 

 eastern representatives. 



On May 22d, a little in the afternoon, on my 

 return from the Pacific coast, I again reached 

 "The Glacier," a station iu the heart of the 

 Selkirk Mountains, the surroundings of which 

 present to the gaze of the interested tourist 

 one of the most awe-inspiring scenes in nature. 

 Winter had not yet left this mountain dell, 

 snow in the shade was still deep, but as the 

 day was warm and the train made a short 

 stoppage, I with most of the other travellers 

 took a tour around the premises, and while 

 some geological specimens were picked up and 

 another look taken at the poor young captive 

 cinnamon bear and up at the steep mountains, 

 I paused a few moments to ascertain if there 

 was any evidence of bird life in the vicinity, 

 but I saw no creature in feathered garb and 

 no note of a bird fell upon my ear save 

 that, from among the thick firs that clothed 

 one spur of the mountain side, behind the 

 hotel, came the joyous, twittering song notes 



