THE YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRD. 59 
No. 21. 
YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRD. 
A. O. U. No. 497. Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus (Bonap.). 
Description.—Adult male: Head, neck all around, and breast orange yel- 
low; lores and feathers skirting eyes and bill, black; a double white patch on 
folded wing formed by greater and lesser coverts, but interrupted by black of 
bastard wing; usally a little yellow about vent and on tibie; the remaining 
plumage black, dull or subdued, and turning brown on wing-tips and tail. Female: 
Dark brown; line over eye, throat, and upper breast dull yellow. Length 10.00- 
II.00 (254-279.4) ; wing 5.30-5.60 (134.6-142.2); tail 4.00-4.50 (101.6-114.3) ; 
bill .go (22) ; tarsus 1.25 (31.8). Female smaller, length 8.00-9.50 (203.2-241.3). 
Recognition Marks.—Robin size; yellow head and breast; white wing- 
patches. 
Nesting.—Nest: a bulky but usually neat fabric of dried grasses, reeds or 
cat-tails lashed to growing ones; 5-7 inches in diameter outside by 5-8 deep; inside 
deeply cupped. Eggs: 3-6, grayish green spotted or clouded with reddish brown, 
rarely scrawled as in Agelaius; elongate ovate in shape. Av. size, 1.10 X.75 
(27.9x 19). Season: May or June; one brood. 
General Range.—Western North America from Wisconsin, Illinois and 
Texas to the Pacific Coast, and from British Columbia and the Saskatchewan 
River southward to the Valley of Mexico. Accidental in Middle and Atiantic 
States. 
Range in Washington.—Of local distribution in eastern Washington chiefly 
east of the Columbia River. Rare or casual west of the Cascades. Summer 
resident. 
Authorities.—[‘“Yellow-headed Blackbird,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 
(1885), 22.] Bendire, Life Hist. N. A. Birds, Vol. II. 1895, p. 447. Ss'. J. 
Specimens.— Prov. C. P. 
OH, well for the untried nerves that the Yellow-headed Blackbird sings 
by day, when the sun is shining brightly, and there are no supporting 
signs of a convulsion of Nature! Verily, if love affected us all in similar 
fashion, the world would be a merry mad-house. The Yellow-head is an 
extraordinary person—you are prepared for that once you catch sight of his 
resplendent gold-upon-black livery—but his avowal of the tender passion 
is a revelation of incongruity. Grasping a reed firmly in both fists, he leans 
forward, and, after premonitory gulps and gasps, succeeds in pressing out a 
wail of despairing agony which would do credit to a dying catamount. When 
you have recovered from the first shock, you strain the eyes in astonishment 
that a mere bird, and a bird in love at that, should give rise to such a cata- 
clysmic sound. But he can do it again, and his neighbor across the way can 
do as well—or worse. When your nerves have somewhat recovered, modesty 
