180 
ORNITHOLOGIST 
[Vol. 11-No. 12 


PARUS ATRICAPILLUS. 
Black-capped Chickadee. 
This northern Chickadee I have always found 
in greater or less abundance in Blount county, and 
on Great Smoky Mountain. It keeps well to the 
higher altitudes in the mountains, from which, 
however, it descends in winter. This species 
also intermingles with Parus carolinensis in a 
somewhat restricted manner, at its lower range. 
I agree with Mr. Brewster regarding the slight 
difference to be detected between specimens taken 
in these mountains and those from New England. 
Their brighter colours are perceptible at the 
merest glance. Their nesting, which was ob- 
served but twice, was in no wise different from 
those of the Northern States. 
PARUS CAROLINENSIS. 
Carolina Chickadee. 
This is the common Chickadee of this region, 
and is met with everywhere, from the valleys up 
to 4000 feet on the mountains, where it joins 
‘company with P. atricapillus, but its differing 
notes are at once distinguished from the former 
variety. It nests like all Chickadees, in cavities, 
but seldom excavates one, as will the Black- 
capped. They line their chosen hollow with 
rabbits hair and feathers, upon which they de- 
posit their eggs, from five to seven in number, 
which resemble closely those of its northern rela- 
tive, being on the whole a trifle larger and more 
evenly spotted. 
(To be Continued.) 
A Day on Edding Island. 


BY WALTER HOXIE, 

The 2d of October was our first cool, fall-like 
day. The sky, though overcast, did not promise 
rain and the wind was strong and gusty from the 
north. It was just the weather for sneaking 
about the ponds over on Edding, so I pocketed a 
few shells, Nos. 12,8 and BB, and paddled over 
to Horse landing. As I moored my boat a cloud 
of Little Blue Herons—old and young—rose from 
the sand flats between me and the first ridge of 
pines, but all were too wary to come within 
reach. But a Clapper Rail was not so fortunate 
for she lost her head at about ten paces. Though 
useless as a specimen she was welcomeas a lunch. 
So I made a short detour to an old stump where 
I always keep a stock of matches corked in a 
bottle, and having secured the means of making a 
fire I struck a blind trail through Parrot Ridge. 
This is a name which designates many localities 
hereabouts and was doubtless bestowed by the 
early settlers when the gaudy Parrakeets flocked 
in this region. 
Beyond Parrot Ridge is a wide stretch of tall 
rushes, which is a favorite haunt of the Short- 
billed Marsh Wren. I found several of their 
nests to-day, and this fact leads me to remark 
that the deserted nests seem to be much easier to 
find than those which are occupied. I spent a 
good part of a day in this locality during the 
breeding season without finding a single nest, but 
to-day I found three nests without searching 
at all. 
In Sheepshead Ridge I detected some Warblers. 
The thick palmetto and blackberry vines hin- 
dered me for some time and while crowding 
along after them I suddenly became aware that I 
was looking right into the eyes of a big buck. 
Only twelves in the gun, though, so the old fel- 
low needn’t have been in such a hurry to make 
off. I got my warbler, which proved to be a 
Red-poll. Crossing Cedar Cove I noticed quite a 
gathering of small birds in the tangled under- 
growth on the other side. One Downy, two 
Red-bellied and two Pileated Woodpeckers. 
Carolina Tits and White-eyed Towhees, quite a 
party; a Brown-headed Nuthatch and Pine 
Creeping Warbler on the same limb, and the first 
Catbird of the season. Just by the edge of the 
first pond I caught the outline of a bird perched 
ona dead limb. The attitude and breast seemed 
to be hawk-like, so he came to grief, but to my 
chagrin turned out to be a Brown Thrush. Mis- 
takes will happen. 
A Black and White Creeper, the first of the 
season, was my next victim, and as I was placing 
him in the cone a huge expanse of black and 
white wings glanced past an opening in the oaks 
and I saw a Wood Ibis swerving downward in 
graceful flight toward the Flag Pond. The Wood 
Ibis is one of our common summer visitors and 
is locally well known under the name of Gaunett. 
Very few adults are seen, but this fellow looked 
to me like an “old stager,” and I resolved to try 
and stalk him. So I deposited my hat at the 
foot of a big oak, charged both barrels with BB 
and waded cautiously out into the pond. Tall 
cat-tails and wild oats grew about all the little 
green pools, and a flock of Green-winged Teal 
paddled about in one of the deeper places. I 
was glad to see no aligators about, for they are 
company that I never desire, although large ex- 
perience in their haunts has convinced me that 
they are quite harmless. My Gaunet was no- 
where in sight, but as I paused and looked about 
me on a little muddy knoll, I saw by the nu- 
merous tracks and loose feathers that a large 
flock was about, and by a careful examination 
of their tracks I was convinced that they had 
risen from here and flown toward the lower end 
