16 PROCEEDINGS OP THE 



became unbearable upon deck we retreated to the cabin, which 

 was rigged mosquito-proof, and climbed into our bunks, while 

 outside the Night-hawks skimmed about and the Whip-poor- 

 wills still sang. In that evening chorus there had been one bird- 

 song missing — there were no Wood Thrushes. I had never be- 

 fore failed to find them in such a locality. They are found 

 about Union Lake, but below ^lillville they were absent. 



The following morning (June 7th) we were greeted with the 

 usual bird chorus enjoyed by early risers in similar localities 

 about Philadelphia, with three marked differences, no Wood 

 Thrush, no Swamp Sparrow (similar marshes along the Dela- 

 ware would be full of them), and the whistle of the Bobwhite 

 played a major part in it. I have never seen so many Bob- 

 whites in so small an area, but I later found that they were not 

 so plenty on the adjoining farms, which was no doubt due to 

 my host's strict game laws. All day of June 7th was spent 

 upon the farm, with the exception of a short walk to Buckshu- 

 tem Pond, in the hopes of finding a Wood Thrush there ; but 

 although I would consider it an ideal Wood Thrush country 

 none were found. I have never seen so much with so little 

 effort as I did that June day on that little hundred-acre farm. 

 Birds were everywhere, and surprises in wait at every turn. 

 The ground here is low, the highest spot on the place being 

 scarcely twenty feet above sea level. They never suffer drought. 

 Indeed, it is necessary to have the fields ditched to carry off the 

 excess water supply. Song and Field Sparrows were found 

 everywhere; Vesper Sparrows were common about the cultivated 

 fields; Chipping Sparrows haunted the orchard and shade trees 

 about the house; Yellow -winged Sparrows were found in a grassy 

 field just over the line on an adjoining farm, and Henslow's 

 Sparrows abounded in the low meadow land near the river. 



One of the features that contributed toward the making of this 

 red-letter day was the finding of a nest of the Henslow Sparrow. 

 Of course I had more or less hopes of finding a nest, but when 

 I recalled the unsuccessful expeditions of D. V. O. C. members 

 on a like quest, it seemed almost like wisliing for the moon. 

 So it was with little hope of actually finding a nest that I started 

 across a field where several Henslows were singing. I had got- 



