JOURNAL OF MAINE ORNITHOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



19 



circumstances are often times quite as 

 interesting as bare facts — if they are 

 not to you. you have listened long 

 enough. In June, '96, Mrs. Mead told 

 me one evening that she thought she 

 must have heard a Bob White calling 

 in the pasture back of our house that 

 morning. Although she had never 

 heard the note before, it was so plainly 

 whistled that she called out a Colorado 

 lady who was visiting at our near 

 neighbor's. Tliis lady unhesitatingly 

 pronounced the author to be the verit- 

 able "Bob," not knowing but he was as 

 common in Maine as in the West. 



A few days later a farmer living 

 about twt) miles away called at my 

 shop to inquire if "Quail" were ever 

 found in our State. I told him I be- 

 lieved N. C. Brown had Cumberland 

 Co. records. "Well, years ago," he 

 said, "I used to be in Massachusetts a 

 g)reat deal and I worked one season on 

 a farm in Illinois, so that I got well 

 acquainted with them. Now the other 

 day while my son and I were at work 

 in the field we heard one pipe up as 

 clear as life 'Bob White,' 'Bob White!' 

 My son went over to where the sound 

 came from and flushed a bird, which 

 from his description must have been 

 a sure enough quail." One morning 

 (the 18th of June, 1897), I was sitting 

 on the piazza at home telling "ghost 

 stories" to Bro. Spinney, who was vis- 

 iting me, when loud, clear and unmis- 

 takable came the whistle of Bob 

 White down in the pasture near the 

 lake. "There," said Mrs. Mead, "is the 

 same bird call I heard last summer." 

 Although We heard the call over and 

 over we were unable to discover the 

 bird. But better fortune was in store 

 for us later. The morning of July 6th 

 We were again greeted by the ringing 

 notes from the same locality. I went 

 in search of the bird but it became 

 suddenly silent, and my time being lim- 

 ited I gave up the chase. An hour later 

 I looked up from my work to see my 



little girl coming on the run. I knew 

 there was a bird in the case or else 

 our house was afire and I hurried to 

 meet her. "We have found Bob 

 White," she cried, "and if you want to 

 see him come down in the pasture. 

 Mama is watching him and he looks 

 just like his picture." We found Mrs. 

 Mead armed with the field glasses and 

 looking disappointed. "Since you 

 came in sight he has hopped down 

 from that oak stump where I have had 

 the best chance to watch him strut and 

 preen himself." ''Bob White," "Bob 

 White," in mellow whistles came the 

 call from the lake-side, and creeping 

 up I flushed a brown ball of feathers, 

 that with the whir of wings that al- 

 ways makes a sportsman's nerves tin- 

 gle, mounted upward to a dead limb 

 of a near-by pine and gave me an ex- 

 cellent opportunity to study it. There 

 wasn't a scintilla of doubt as to the 

 identity. I have shot them in Massa- 

 chusetts and the Southern States and 

 I might have shot this one, but I 

 wouldn't have done it for a mess of 

 pottage, even if it hadn't been "agin 

 the law." Later in the day it was in a 

 field in front of our house and several 

 persons had a good opportunity to 

 watch it. Farmers living within a half 

 mile of our village on either side had 

 their attention called to the noisy vis- 

 itor within the next few days. Many of 

 them recognized the note but one in- 

 sisted that he had heard a "wild par- 

 rot." 



JAMES CARROLL MEAD. 

 No. Bridgton, Me. 



NOTES ON THE WARBLERS OF AN- 

 DROSCOGGIN COUNTY. 



BLACK AND WHITE WARBLER. 



This species is a fairly common sum- 

 mer resident, although their nest is 

 hard to find. In the last eight years 

 that I have noted its arrival, April 30, 

 1896, is the earliest and May 14, 1898, 



