Green, Greenish Gray, Olive, and Yellowish Olive Birds 



fibre well knit together and cosily lined with feathers, which must 

 be a grateful addition to the babies, where they are reared in 

 evergreens in cold, northern woods. 



Golden-crowned Kinglet 



(Regulus satrapa) Kinglet family 



Called also: GOLDEN-CROWNED GOLDCREST ; FIERY- 

 CROWNED WREN 



Length 4 to 4.25 inches. About two inches smaller than the 

 English sparrow. 



Male Upper parts grayish olive-green ; wings and tail dusky, 

 margined with olive-green. Underneath soiled whitish. 

 Centre of crown bright orange, bordered by yellow and en- 

 closed by black line. Cheeks gray ; a whitish line over the 

 eye. 



Female Similar, but centre of crown lemon-yellow and more 

 grayish underneath. 



Range North America generally. Breeds from northern United 

 States northward. Winters chiefly from North Carolina to 

 Central America, but many remain north all the year. 



Migrations September. April. Chiefly a winter resident south 

 of Canada. 



If this cheery little winter neighbor would keep quiet long 

 enough, we might have a glimpse of the golden crest that dis- 

 tinguishes him from his equally lively cousin, the ruby-crowned ; 

 but he is so constantly flitting about the ends of the twigs, peer- 

 ing at the bark for hidden insects, twinkling his wings and flut- 

 tering among the evergreens with more nervous restlessness than 

 a vireo, that you may know him well before you have a glimpse 

 of his tri-colored crown. 



When the autumn foliage is all aglow with yellow and flame 

 this tiny sprite comes out of the north, where neither nesting nor 

 moulting could rob him of his cheerful spirits. Except the hum- 

 ming-bird and the winter wren, he is the smallest bird we have. 

 And yet, somewhere stored up in his diminutive body, is warmth 

 enough to withstand zero weather. With evident enjoyment of 

 the cold, he calls out a shrill, wiry %ee, %ee, ^ee, that rings merrily 

 from the pines and spruces when our fingers are too numb to 

 hold the opera-glasses in an attempt to follow his restless flittings 



