BERKELEY IN MAY 



glimpse, would lead us to suspect. Bullock's oriole, that gay 

 wanderer from the tropics, is sounding his loud, clear song from 

 the tree tops ; the black-headed grosbeak is making music to the 

 best of his ability in the orchard and grove, and lo ! the thrush 

 is in the full glory of his song. 



The plumage of the male oriole is, in the main, black and 

 orange with conspicuous bars of white on the wing. The 

 back, top of head and throat-patch are black, leaving the rest 

 of the body varying from yellow to intense orange and red. 

 He is a beautiful bird, as from the top of a maple or elm he 

 sounds his loud, wild, yet sweet call, to cheer the more mod- 

 estly attired mate, who from her basket cradle high up in the 

 weeping willow broods over her treasures and dreams of the 

 happy family that will soon be hers — alas, for how brief a 

 time! 



The black-headed grosbeak is a far less graceful bird than 

 the exquisite oriole. As the full-plumaged male flaps through 

 the air, his conspicuous markings of white, black and yellow 

 appear to me somewhat overdone and flashy. From his heavy 

 beak down he seems rather gross, although I do not find him 

 any the less interesting on this account. His song, too, is not 

 wild, spontaneous and buoyant like the oriole's, although loud 

 and sweet, but seems rather perfunctory and monotonous in its 

 range. Even his nest will not stand comparison with the deli- 

 cate, deftly woven, pensile basket of the oriole, for it is loosely 

 built of sticks — so loosely built, in fact, that the eggs may fre- 

 quently be seen through the bottom from the ground. The 

 four eggs are of a dull, greenish-blue color, heavily spotted with 

 brown. In spite of his unwieldy appearance and uninspiring 

 song, I should feel a sad lack in our summer days should this 



1951 



