72 



JOURNAL OF MAINE ORNITHOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



larger end, often forming a wreath 

 about the larger end, and in size 

 average about .78-. 56. After the 

 young leave the nest they feed about 

 the shores of the ponds and in wet 

 swampy places and in the latter part 

 of August and early in September 

 they begin their southern movement. 

 While they are a bird with an attract- 

 ive song, and in May they feed more 

 or less about the foliage of trees for 

 insect food, they are a bird not com- 

 monly seen by the new beginner, yet 

 when one discovers the bird or has it 

 pointed out, and once hears its bright 

 and extremely pleasing song, it is an 

 easy bird to distinguish about the 

 shores of ponds or along the banks 

 of rivers, as the frequent flit of its 

 tail is a rather sure characteristic to 

 distinguish it by. I have had no op- 

 portunity to examine the contents of 

 its stomach, yet it feeds on some in- 

 sect life found about the foliage of 

 the trees near the water and feeds 

 leisurely along the wet places in 

 swamps along the shore, on water in- 

 sects and some vegetable matter 

 found in such places. It may be seen 

 walking along at the waters edge, 

 leisurely feeding, hopping up on a 

 stick or stone, flitting its tail in a 

 jerky manner then resuming its 

 search for food. 



[To be Continued J 



WHERE BIRDS ARE COMPANIONS. 



(Read at the 8th annual meetinc; of the Maine 

 Ornith. Society at Gardiner, Nov. agth, 1904.) 



Those who have visited the off 

 shore light stations on our coast in 

 summer, see them at their best. It is 

 then that the flora of such places with 

 the animated forms it supports, lends 

 to the scene activity which at a later 

 season of the year would have to be 

 found under very different conditions. 



If we would appreciate the feath- 

 ered residents of our state, I know of 

 no conditions that illustrate so well 

 the barrenness of earth without them, 

 as do one of those isolated islands on 

 our coast. The first of December 

 finds the migration south of our 

 feathered friends nearly ended, as it 

 is then only represented by a few 

 song sparrows, juncos, now and then 

 a belated warbler or thrush, and the 

 hardier sea birds of our coast. 



Three months have changed the 



scene from one of life and beautiful 

 colors, to one of silence and dreari- 

 ness. The struggling note of the sa- 

 vanna sparrow, the sharp cry of the 

 kingbird as it pursues some intruder, 

 or the twitterings of the spotted 

 sandpiper as it tries to lead some en- 

 emy from the locality of its nest, 

 have been exchanged for the boom- 

 ing and swashing of the sea upon the 

 shore, varied now and then by the 

 harsh discordant cry of some angry 

 gull as it chases some more fortunate 

 companion of its species, to steal 

 from it the coveted morsel carried in 

 its beak. Earlier in the season, only 

 the barrenness of the larger rocks and 

 ledges were to be seen, while later 

 hundreds of smaller ones seem to rear 

 their weathered heads above the 

 dead and withered foliage of a de- 

 parted summer. 



Now and then the stillness is brok- 

 en, by a shore lark as it passes over- 

 head, or a small flock of snowflakes 

 as for a few moments they alight, and 

 then hurriedly resume their flight 

 toward the main land Clear days 

 are followed by numbers of cloudy 

 ones, accompanied with rain, fog, or 

 snow. Sometimes, but not often, a 

 snowy owl is seen, its white plumage 

 in vivid contrast with the ledge upon 

 which it rests, or again a cormorant 

 as it dives around the island for its 

 fare of flsh, which it can secure only 

 in that way. There are days of 

 dreamy quietness when there is not 

 wind enough to ripple the bosom of 

 old ocean, and the angry booming of 

 the sea is exchanged for a gentle 

 swash upon the shore. Nothing 

 breaks the stillness but the gentle 

 flapping of sails and the creaking of 

 booms of some vessel, as it slowly 

 drifts along to some harbor or port. 



Early in the day may be noticed the 

 restlessness of the sea birds as they 

 pass back and forth before our range 

 of vision, and fishermen, if there, 

 would be heard to say "This is a 

 weather breeder, we shall get some- 

 thing to pay for this day, see how 

 uneasy the birds are," and it seldom 

 fails before twelve hours have passed 

 that we do not have a storm. Usually 

 at that time of year the activity of 

 the birds is ended by eleven o'clock, 

 but on such a day as mentioned, it 

 lasts until late afternoon. The eider 

 ducks may be seen passing both east 

 and west in flocks of from six or more 



