THE TOWNSEND SPARROW. ee 151 
Coast; and that the varying conditions of rainfall and temperature, to which 
the birds have been subjected thruout the greater portion of the year, have 
given rise to five recognizable forms of the Townsend Sparrow. 
Probably all forms are migratory, but the northernmost member of the 
group, the Shumagin Fox Sparrow (P. t. wnalaschensis) has not been taken 
except in its summer home, the Alaska Peninsula, Unalaska, and the Shu- 
magins. The remaining four are known to retire in winter as far south as 
California; but whether they preserve the 2, 3, 4, 5, arrangement in winter, 
or whether the order is roughly reversed (as is true in the case of certain 
other species), so that number 2 goes farthest south, while number 5, less 
anxious as to the severities of winter, migrates, as it were, half-heartedly, 
and becomes for a time the northernmost form, we cannot tell. However 
this may be, Townsend’s Sparrow proper (P. 1. townsendi) appears to out- 
number any of the remoter forms during at least the spring migrations; and 
because it is our next neighbor on the north, should be entitled to more 
consideration than plain heathen birds. 
At no time does the absorptive power of our matchless Puget Sound 
cover appear to greater advantage than during the migration of the Fox 
Sparrows. However they may choose to move at night, by day they frequent 
the dense tangles of salal and salmon brush, or skulk about in cedar swamps. 
To search for them is useless, but if you are much out-of-doors the time 
will come, while you are footing it softly along some woodland path, that 
a demure brown bird will hop out in front of you and look unconcernedly 
for tid-bits before your very eyes. The bird is a little larger than a Song 
Sparrow, but you will require a second glance to note that the colors of the 
upperparts are smoothly blended, that the head lacks the vague stripiness 
of Melospiza, and that the underparts are spotted instead of streaked. Or, 
it may be, that you chance upon him as he is busily scratching among the 
fallen alder leaves. Scratching is hardly the word tho, for the bird leaps 
forward and executes an extravagant double kick backward, landing in- 
variably at the edge of the cleared space. Here, without a moment’s delay, 
he proceeds to glean busily, whereas you rather expected him to pause at 
the end of his stunt, like the acrobat, awaiting the conventional burst of 
applause. If you must needs pursue the path, he hops back into the thicket 
and you have seen, perhaps, your last Fox Sparrow for this year, altho his 
migrating kinsmen must number millions. 
