June, 1883.] 



AND OOLOGIST. 



45 



from our cat a male Goldfinch with plum- 

 age yellowing fast. In the elms overhead 

 were Yellow-rumped Warblers, and high 

 above all a flock of sixtj^-three Canada 

 Geese were flying to the northeast. Have 

 observers noted any significance in the 

 size and abundance of the strings of geese 

 in their altitude, and in the position and 

 shape of the flying columns with refer- 

 ence to winds and safety ? In the suburbs 

 saw the first White-bellied Swallow. On 

 the scattered wayside trees Nuthatches, 

 Downies and Wacups were in great activi- 

 ty. In the old bird-books we used to read 

 that Wacups bred in the middle of April ; 

 but nowadays the great body of Wacup's 

 eggs are to be seen in June. Indeed, June 

 is pre-eminently the month for the oologist. 

 The eggs of all the species that breed 

 here can be taken then except a few Kap- 

 tores. I have even taken a second set of 

 Woodcock, and all the Buteos the first 

 month in Summer. The Hylas was hymn- 

 ing his delight at the warm clouds from 

 most of the marshes, and his noise was only 

 equalled by the Phoebe in fresh possession 

 of every bridge, shed, and cliff in the 

 country side. And this last fact has in- 

 stilled new activity to the Cowbirds, who 

 find among the Phoebes and Ground Birds 

 the first receptacles for their eggs. It is 

 common to find a Lazy-bird's egg in an 

 unfinished Pewee's nest, many times caus- 

 ing the owner to desert it. So on this 

 early stroll I saw two different sets of male 

 Cowbirds in fierce pursuit of the females 

 who seemed by no means coy. A trio of 

 Downies were also trying to show that a 

 possible pair beats three of a kind. The 

 courtship of the Downies was especially 

 interesting from the novel positions as- 

 sumed on the ground and in bushes. While 

 the males were fighting the female would 

 rest crosswise on a twig, in the attitude of 

 the Ruby-throat Hummer to the life. 



Every wooded hillside and timbered 

 swamp was ringing with the cry of the 

 Red-shouldered Hawks who are extremely 



noisy in early April or until the females are 

 incubating. In the garden of a long de- 

 serted house in the woods I stopped a mo- 

 ment to dig some artichokes, and while 

 enjoying their fresh earthy flavor a pair of 

 large Buteos came into my range of vision 

 in flagrante delictu. In some old English 

 bird miscellany I recollect reading that 

 this act among the Falconidse (then includ- 

 ing Hawks and Eagles) is consummated on 

 the wing in mid-air, at incredible heights ! 

 But here an apple tree was the lowly thea- 

 tre of action. The owl's eggs were secured 

 without difficulty, the male birds covering 

 the eggs and showing more solicitude 

 than the females had shown on former vis- 

 its. When the Barred Owl is startled 

 from its hole, it may at first fly against 

 limbs or other obstructions, but in a few 

 seconds its sight is keen enough. It gen- 

 erally alights on a tree a few rods away, 

 and then b}^ an odd jump and twist faces 

 about to look at the scene of danger before 

 again taking flight wholly out of range. 

 Returning from my walk the sun came out 

 hot from the clouds, the frogs stopped 

 their music, and the first black snake was 

 seen crawling from its den to note the 

 Spring arrivals and to be on time for his 

 share of eggs. — J. M. W., JVortcich, Ct. 



Coe's Strain of Owls. — W. W. Coe, 

 Portland, Conn., has again opened the sea- 

 son, but we will let him tell his own story, 

 for he does it so well even if he is a little 

 tantalizing. He writes: "At my right 

 hand, on the billiard table in a cigar box, 

 half full of cotton, I see two Great-horned 

 Owls' eggs — beauties — fresh— clean — taken 

 from an old Red-tailed Hawk's nest, in a 

 big chestnut sixty feet from the ground, 

 at 2.30 p. m. this day. Whoop-la ! Why 

 don't you get up some morning and open 

 the season? Let's see — my first record 

 is March % 1872 ; this last, March 4, 1883, 

 eleven years without a break. I engaged 

 another set from the old gal, to be ready 

 about the first of April. 



[How about the white owl? — Ed.] 



