THE TOWHEE; CHEWINK. 



(Pipilo erythrophthalmus.} 



BY LYNDS JONES. 



THE home ot my childhood and 

 early youth nestles in one of the 

 gems of woodland which are so 

 characteristic of the rolling 

 prairies of central Iowa. This hundred- 

 acre grove covers five main hills, with 

 their valleys and the lesser runs which 

 divide each of the five hills into two, 

 three, or four lesser hills. The hills 

 radiate in a semicircle to the north and 

 west from the height on which the old 

 home stands, rolling away to the creek 

 which bathes their feet. Here are 

 tall, heavy woods, without underbrush, 

 covering the north slopes; lower, more 

 open woods with patches of plum, and 

 wild crab apple trees, with some hazel 

 brush on all lower slopes of the hills; 

 and finally a liberal fringe of low, 

 brushy trees hawthorn, plum and crab 

 apple trees and dense hazel brush on 

 the uplands and on lower lands away 

 from the creek. This dense growth also 

 fringes the county road which extends 

 from end to end of the grove, and it 

 was from this roadside that towhee 

 first heralded his arrival from the south, 

 during the bright days of late March 

 or early April. Later, when the frost 

 had left the ground, and his mate was 

 growing anxious to be selecting a nest 

 ing-place, he might be seen' on the 

 topmost twig of one of the taller small 

 trees in every brushy place on every 

 hillside. I have sometimes wondered 

 if the towhee household did not have 

 some disagreement about the family 

 name, for the male, from his elevated 

 perch loudly calls towhee- e-e-e, while 

 his spouse on the ground below no less 

 vigorously reiterates che-wink. But 

 if danger seems to threaten his lord 

 ship quickly descends to join his mate 

 in earnest warning that this small bit 

 of earth belongs by right of discovery 

 to che-wink. How earnestly both 

 birds emphasize their claim by the 

 nervous fluff of the short, stiff wings 

 and the quick spreading of the long 

 tail, as if the large patches of white at 

 its end would startle the intruder away. 

 But the male bird does not always 



confine himself .to the iteration of the 

 name he seems to love so well. In 

 stead of the single first syllable there 

 may be two or even three, no two in 

 the same pitch. It has been a surprise 

 to me that persons unfamiliar with the 

 towhee's song do not realize that the 

 two parts proceed from the same bird. 

 To them the first part seems to re 

 semble some part of the wood thrush's 

 song and the last part the he-e-e-e 

 the rattle of downy woodpecker. My 

 ear persistently renders the whole 

 song, towhee-e-e-e, or towhe-hee-e-e-e-e^ 

 or towhe-he-e-e-e-e-e. Others render 

 it chuck burr pil la- will- a- will. But 

 towhee is not limited to this variety of 

 vocalization. Besides the abbrevia 

 tion of his che-wink alarm note to 

 swink, or even wink, and a chuck, 

 chuck, when the nest is threatened, he 

 sometimes sings a rarely beautiful 

 ditty which is totally unlike any of his 

 other performances. I have heard it 

 only shortly after his arrival from the 

 south, before his mate had joined him,, 

 and have tried in vain to describe it. 

 The bird moves slowly and sedately 

 about among the fallen leaves in a 

 soliloquy over the happenings of the 

 long journey just ended, with appar 

 ently no thought of the absent mate. 

 The manner of its utterance indicates 

 that this is the bird's private song, 

 egotistic if you please, while his tree- 

 top rendition is evidently his altruistic 

 performance. 



The ordinary song and call and 

 alarm notes are well rendered in the 

 local names bestowed upon the bird: 

 Towhee, chewink, joreet, joree, charee, 

 pink-pink, and wink-wink. His chest 

 nut-colored sides and lowly habits 

 have given him the names of ground 

 robin and swamp robin, and his red 

 iris, red-eyed towhee. 



Nesting begins about the first of 

 May in northern Ohio. The nest is 

 almost always placed on the ground, 

 often in a slight depression made by 

 the birds, rarely in a bush up to seven 

 feet from the ground. It is made of 



158 



