Notes From Field and Study 



281 



After the Snow Buntings became familiar 

 they frequently perched in the trees: some- 

 times, as shown in the picture, in a small 

 maple near the house, whence they would 

 drop, a few at a time, to their feeding 

 place, sometimes on the apple trees or on a 

 large elm farther away in the pasture. 

 There I have seen one or two hundred at a 

 time, making the trees look fairly white. 



Another pretty sight was a flock sitting 

 on the telegraph wire, after the manner of 

 Barn Swallows. 



These birds, with our Chickadees, Downy 

 Woodpeckers, Juncos, Blue Jays, Tree 





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SNOW -BUNTINGS PERCHING 



Sparrows, White-breasted Nuthatches, and 

 sometimes a Meadowlark, give us a variety 

 of winter visitors. 



One beautiful morning last February 

 when, with "no cloud above, no earth 

 below," as a Snow Bunting sat on the low 

 fence and poured out his beautiful song as 

 sweetly as a Thrush in June, I thought that 

 even a New England winter is not without 

 compensations for the bird lover. — Jennie 

 C. Ball, Oaki'ille, Conn. 



Los Angeles Bird Visitors 



It was a glorious winter's morning, and I 

 sat at my window breathing in the pure air. 



From the end of the garden hose a little 

 stream of water trickled, making a shallow 

 pool about two feet long, and here the birds 

 were taking their morning baths. Hop- 

 ping about were several of those handsome 

 little fellows — the White-crowned Sparrows. 

 There was room for several to bathe at once, 

 but not all could get in who wished, and 

 those not in the water sometimes showed 

 their impatience by making a scolding noise, 

 which did not, however, scare or hurry their 

 comrades. 



The joll3^ handsome House Finches — 

 commonly called Linnets — were also of the 

 party, bathing side by side with the Spar- 

 rows, but occasionally making an unfriendly 

 dive at them. 



Two dear little Arkansas Goldfinches 

 came flying down to the little pool and 

 with many a friendly, good-natured "Peep, 

 peep?" — "May we bathe, too?" hopped in 

 and began their ablutions. 



The White-crowns had kept up a con- 

 tinuous flying in and out of the water, new 

 bathers taking the places of those who were 

 fortunate enough to find the pool first. 

 A Brown Towhee came hopping along with 

 her sociable " Chip, Chip," and, finding a 

 deserted corner of the little pool, jumped in 

 and ducked and splashed to her heart's 

 content, then flew upon the fence and made 

 her toilet — not a long process, as she con- 

 tented herself with wetting her breast. 



When the pool was about deserted, a 

 " tsip, tsip," and a flutter of many plump, 

 hurrying little feathered mites, proclaimed 

 that a flock of California Bush-tits had 

 come for their daily feast of scales and 

 small insects. Lighting in one of my pep- 

 per trees, I was delighted to see that some 

 of the busybodies had discovered the water. 

 Down they flew, until there were five of them 

 splashing at one time, making a pretty 

 picture. More of them hopped about on 

 the ground, and would undoubtedly have 

 gone in had not the Sparrows driven them 

 awa\'. 



While the bathing went on beneath my 

 window, I glanced out at the vacant lot 

 beyond me. There a small flock of Audu- 

 bon's Warblers were hopping about on the 

 ground or swinging from a tempting weed. 



