282 MEMOIRS OF THE NUTTALL ORNITHOLOGICAL CLUB. 



each, may always be found in winter in the Cambridge Region. At this season 

 I used to see them in our garden and also in many other parts of Cambridge, 

 but most numerously and frequently by far in the country immediately to the 

 westward of Mount Auburn. I doubt if this once favored resort is now regularly 

 frequented by them in winter, and I have long since ceased to note them in the 

 city of Cambridge excepting during migration. In the Arlington-Belmont-Wal- 

 tham district, however, they continue to occur at several localities from December 

 to March. When the weather is cold and windy they spend most of their time 

 in evergreen woods and thickets, but during mild, calm days they often venture 

 out into fields and orchards. At the height of the migrations in November and 

 March they are found practically everywhere, but oftenest and in the greatest 

 numbers about weedy fields, in apple and pear orchards, and along brush-grown 

 lanes and roadsides. So very abundant are they at times, that I have known 

 upwards of one hundred birds to be started in a single field, and several hundreds 

 to be seen during a morning walk or drive. In early spring the males sing 

 freely, giving the simple, monotonous trill that they use in summer, and, in 

 addition, a variety of low notes which are seldom or never heard during the 

 breeding season. Some of these are thin and insignificant, and others harsh or 

 chattering, but very many are liquid and decidedly musical. When a number of 

 Juncos are mingling their voices in this medley singing the effect is very pleas- 

 ing. 



During February, 1895, Juncos suffered greatly from cold and starvation 

 at their winter haunts in the Middle and Southern States, and since then they 

 have not revisited Massachusetts in anything like their former numbers. 



168. Junco montanus Ridgw. 

 Montana Junco. 



Casual visitor in early spring ; only one instance of occurrence. 



On March 25, 1874, while crossing the corner of a field in Watertown, not 

 far to the westward of Mount Auburn, I started a large flock of Juncos from a 

 patch of weeds. They took refuge among some bushes which fringed an old 

 stone wall and, as I advanced, flitted on ahead after the manner of most Sparrows 

 when pursued. Happening to want a specimen, I selected a bird which perched 

 for a moment on the top of the wall, and shot it. On picking it up I was struck 

 by the exceptionally dark coloring of its head and the unusual depth and extent 



