THE COLUMBIAN RED-WING. ; 55 
as willow and the like; lining of fine grasses of uniform size. Eggs: 4-7, usually 
4, light blue to dull grayish blue, scrawled, blotched or clouded with dark purple, 
purplish brown or black, chiefly about the large end. Av. size 1.04 x .70 (26.4 x 
17.8). Season: last week in April, June; two broods. 
General Range.—Western United States in the interior north to eastern 
British Columbia, restricted by Rocky Mountains and Cascades in northern por- 
tion of range but reaching coast in San Diego and Los Angeles Counties in 
California and breeding as far east as western Texas, southward to northern 
Chihuahua and northern Lower California; displaced in Lower Colorado Valley 
and southern Arizona by A. p. sonoriensis ; south in winter to southern Texas, etc. 
Range in Washington.—Found in all suitable localities east of the Cascades. 
Migrations.—Irregularly resident but numbers always greatly augmented 
about March rst. 
Authorities.—4gelaius phaniceus Vieil., Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac. 
R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II. 1860, 207. Allen, Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club, VI. 1881, 128. 
D212. SS) O82.) 
Specimens.—U. of W. C. P. 
A MEADOWLARK may pipe from a sunny pasture slope in early 
February, and a Merrill Song Sparrow may rehearse his cheerful message 
in midwinter, but it takes the chorus of returning Blackbirds to bring boister- 
ous tidings of awakening spring. What a world of jubilation there is in 
their voluble whistlings and chirpings and gurglings, a wild medley of 
March which strikes terror to the faltering heart of winter. A sudden 
hush falls upon the company as the bird-man draws near the tree in which 
they are swarming; but a dusky maiden pouts, “Who cares?” and they all 
fall to again, hammer and tongs, timbrel, pipes, and hautboy. Brewer's 
Blackbirds and Cowbirds occasionally make common cause with Red-wings 
in the northern migrations, but it is always the last-named who preponderate, 
and it is they who are most vivacious, most resplendent, and most nearly 
musical. The Red-wing’s mellow kongquerce or occasional tipsy whoop-er- 
way-up is the life of the party. 
Almost before we know it our friends, to the number of a dozen pairs 
or more, have taken up their residence in a cat-tail swamp—nowhere else, 
if you please, unless driven to it—and here, about the third week in April, 
a dozen baskets of matchless weave are swung, or lodged midway of the 
growing plants. Your distant approach is commented upon from the tops 
of bordering willows by keyrings and other notes. At close range the lordly 
male, he of the brilliant epaulets and the proper military swagger, shakes 
out his fine clothes and says, Kongqueree, in a voice wherein anxiety is quite 
outweighed by vanity and proffered good-fellowship withal. But if you 
push roughly thru the outlying sedges, anxiety obtains the mastery. There 
is a hubbub in the marsh. Bustling, frowsy females appear and scold you 
roundly. The lazy gallants are all fathers now, and they join direful threats 
