1908] Grinnell.—Biota of the San Bernardino Mountains. 79 
out a pair of gray flyeatchers. Computing from the area known 
by me to be inhabited by this species, I estimated that there were, 
at the beginning of each breeding season of 1905, 1906, and 1907, 
before young-of-the-year began to appear, not less than 3760 gray 
flyeatchers in the San Bernardino mountains. While they were 
confined to the less arid parts of the region, they were not par- 
ticularly attached to the immediate vicinity of water. I found 
them no less abundant far up the mountain side south of the 
upper Santa Ana, than in Fish creek canon. 
To enumerate stations of occurence, I found the species plen- 
tiful in the tamarack pine belt around Dry lake, 9000 to 9500 
feet altitude, and around Dollar lake, at the head of the South 
Fork; on the north slope of San Bernardino peak, 8500 to 9000 
feet altitude; in the black oak belt from Fish creek west across 
Hathaway Flat and down along the south wall of the upper Santa 
Ana to as low as 5500 feet, near our Cedar Cabin camp. At 
Bluff lake and in the same belt to the eastward for at least three 
miles they were abundant in July 1905 and up to the time we 
left the country, September 4. But further towards the desert 
they were scarce. I took one juvenal at the north edge of Bear 
lake, July 31. A number were observed and several taken on the 
north side of Sugarloaf, August 18 to 24, mostly young-of-the- 
year. And I noted three individuals at Saragossa springs, 7500 
feet, near Gold mountain, August 26. 
This flycatcher is a noisy bird. At daybreak, especially 
through June and July, its extended song was to be heard,—a 
querulous jumble of twitters, with rising and falling inflection 
here and there, which reminded me a bit of the sone of the black 
phoebe. But the gray flyeatcher’s song is different from that of 
any other bird I ever met with. Then there was an oft-repeated, 
resounding ‘‘ker-whit’, ker-whit’, whit’, whit’,’’ uttered at times 
by birds apparently foraging through the forest, so as to keep 
track of one another. Then there was a faint musical twitter of 
two or three syllables, repeated, given by a bird on leaving or 
approaching its nest. The commonest note, a sort of location 
note I should judge, was a soft low ‘‘pit,’’ reminding one of the 
Traill flycatcher, yet with a quality of its own. This is the note 
I first learned on making the acquaintance of the species, and it 
