432 Hawkins, Sexual Selection and Bird Song. [get 



bird, which were autumn and winter songsters. Olive Thome 

 Miller tells of a Gray-checked Thrush in captivity which sang all 

 winter. " All through the long winter this charming thrush, with 

 his two neighbors delighted the house with his peculiar and match- 

 less music, and endeared himself by his gentle and lovely disposi- 

 tion. No harsh sound was ever heard from him, there was no 

 intrusion upon the rights of others, and no vulgar quarrels dis- 

 turbed his serene soul." (In Nesting Time, pp. 168-169.) The 

 voice of the Crow is as vigorous in January as in June and while I 

 write these lines, in February, a Blue Jay is screaming from a tree 

 in a neighbor's yard as though April had come. The Chickadee 

 sends out his cheery song the coldest day in winter with almost as 

 much vim as he does in the nesting time. The metallic notes of 

 the Flicker ring over the hill sides through the coldest months with 

 a vigor becoming the hardy bird. Indeed, the man who goes forth 

 into the New England hills in winter, especially if the sun happens 

 to be shining brightly, must be impressed by the number of bird 

 notes he will hear during the day. I went forth one day in Janu- 

 ary when the earth was encased in ice, over which was a thin layer 

 of fluffy snow. A strong wind was blowing, whipping the bare 

 branches of the trees. The thermometer was low and the air 

 stinging, surely as unfavorable a day as one could find for birds. 

 What was my delight to find a large flock of Robins and another 

 of Goldfinches. The latter were as active and cheerful as though 

 it had been a day in May. Defying the wind, they were in the 

 tree tops, swinging on the tips of the branches, sometimes hanging 

 up side down, hunting eagerly for food. And from the tops of the 

 trees their sweet, unobtrusive notes dropped down like bubbles of 

 melody floating leisurely through the air. They were such a 

 friendly company, no one showing jealousy because another had 

 been more fortunate in finding food. Their concert of song was 

 a free expression of their genial disposition, some birds uttering 

 only single notes while others rolled out three or four syllables. I 

 never heard a more hearty Goldfinch chorus in the spring than they 

 uttered on this cold January day, except it was not quite so loud 

 as in April. The Robins showed more effect of the cold weather, 

 sitting on a branch with their feathers fluffed out, as though to 

 increase the size of their feather coat, but with all their discomfort 



