Notes from Field and Study 



i6i 



pestering some Hawk or Owl, and when I 

 heard from the vicinity of the screaming 

 birds a low, guttural, growling note, re- 

 peated several times, I turned aside to find 

 out whether the Jays had not run upon a 

 rarity, but such was not the case. 



"Ten of the birds were sitting in a bare 

 tree. A few were mounting toward the top 

 of the tree by stiff upward leaps; the others, 

 well scattered high in the tree, sat quiet; 

 most of the company were screaming. 

 Every few seconds came the growling note, 

 a sound which suggested a 'snoring' frog, 

 the quick tapping of a Woodpecker, or the 

 exhaust from a distant motorcycle — 

 g-r-r-r-r. During the growl, and immedi- 

 ately after it, one or two birds, and perhaps 

 more, moved up and down as if the branch 

 on which they sat were swaying. There 

 was none of the teetering motion of a 

 Spotted Sandpiper; the whole bird rose 

 and sank as a man would move up and 

 down on his tiptoes. Soon the birds flew 

 off in a screaming company and were 

 joined by other Jays." 



In addition to the interest which 

 attaches to the strange behavior of these 

 birds, it is worth noticing that the actions 

 of the birds while uttering a note which is 

 apparently seldom employed, and which, 

 one would suppose, from its distinctive 

 character would have a special significance, 

 were, in the two instances cited, entirely 

 different. In one case a solitary bird gave 

 the call as a soliloquy; in the other case the 

 call was used at a different time of year 

 and on an occasion when the gregarious 

 tendency was unusually manifest. — Win- 

 SOR M. Tyler, M.D., Lexington, Mass. 



Blue Jay vs. Mouse 



On Feb. 2, 1918, the scream of a Blue 

 Jay rang out through the air, and, looking 

 toward the barn, I saw the bird swooping 

 down to the ground after something. I 

 was interested at once, and at first I could 

 not see what was running across the snow; 

 when it reached the barn, where it was 

 clear, I saw that it was a mouse. 



The Blue Jay boldly followed it right 

 into the barn, dodging in and out of the 



wagons and pecking at the mouse at every 

 chance it got. About this time the Blue 

 Jay's mate joined the chase, but she was 

 just a little too late. The mouse, nearly 

 beaten, hopped into a friendly hole and 

 escaped. For a little while the pair 

 watched the hole, and then gave it up. — 

 G. Gill, Sea CliJJ, N. V. 



Mouse and Blue Jay 



At 10 o'clock on the morning of Jan. 30, 

 1920, I was seated near a window when I 

 caught sight of a little gray mouse running 

 about on the short grass outside. He soon 

 began nibbling a sweet-gum ball (which 

 contains seed). In a few seconds he ran 

 to another and began nibbling that, but 

 his movements had revealed him to a Blue 

 Jay in the tree above. Down flew Mr. Jay 

 and gave mousie a quick stab with his bill. 

 Mousie jumped under a fallen sweet gum 

 leaf. On came the Jay, brushing aside the 

 leaf; quickly the mouse sought another, 

 and another, each time coming nearer my 

 office, evidently to take refuge under it. 

 The Jay followed, but when I moved 

 nearer the window in order to watch the 

 chase, Mr. Blue Jay was frightened and 

 flew back to his tree-top, while the mouse, 

 sensing a new danger, crouched immovable. 

 A Cardinal Grosbeak now joined the Jay. 

 and both flew down at the mouse. The 

 scene would have made a wonderful paint- 

 ing — the tiny gray ball of fur among the 

 russet leaves and burs, the vivid scarlet 

 Cardinal and handsome blue and black 

 Jay, both alert and with crests raised. 

 Poor little mousie 1 I rapped on the pane, 

 away flew the fighters, and their would-be 

 victim vanished. — -Lizzie N. Douglas, 

 Barns, W . Feliciana Co., La. 



Twenty-one Warblers in a Day 



In looking over my back copies of Bird- 

 Lore I noticed in Vol. XIX, No. 4, the 

 article by S. A. Eliot, of Pittsfield, Mass., 

 entitled 'Seventeen Warblers in a Single 

 Tree.' During the spring migration of 1919 

 the writer had a similar experience which 

 may be of interest to Birp-Lore's readers, 



