THE SPURRED TOWHEE. 161 
the term “chaparral” further south. It is, therefore, narrowly confined to the 
vicinity of streams in the more open country, but it abounds along the foot- 
hills and follows up the deeper valleys of the Cascades nearly to the divide. 
Tow hee, as a name, is a manifest corruption of tow heé, or to-hw’, 
an imitative word, after the bird’s most familiar note. Chewink’ is an 
attempt along the same line, but Marié is what the bird seems to me to say. 
It is on this account alone that the bird is said to “mew” and is called 
SPURRED TOWHEE, MALE. 
“Catbird.” The true Catbird, however, always says Wa-d ry, and there is no 
cause for confusion. During excitement or alarm the Towhee’s note is 
always shortened and sharpened to Mrie, with a flirt and jet, and a flash of 
the eye. The song variously rendered as “Chee-terr, pilly, willy, willy,” 
“Chip, ah, tow-hee-ee” and “Yang, kit-er-er,” is delivered from the top of 
a bush or the low limb of a tree; and while monotonous and very simple, it 
retains the pleasing quality of that of the eastern bird. The singer will not 
stand for close inspection, for, as Jones says of its cousin*: “He is a ner- 
vous fellow, emphasizing his disturbance at your intrusion with a nervous 
a. Lynds Jones in Dawson’s “The Birds of Ohio,” p. 94. 
