Every-Day Study of Birds for Busy People, Including a 

 Method of Recording Observations 



BY W. H. C. PYNCHON 



Instructor in Natural History, Trinity College 



OW often you hear somebody say, "I would like 

 very much to know something about birds, but I 

 don't have time to make a study of them." It 

 is to these would-be ornithologists that this little 

 paper of suggestion is addressed by one who, 

 during a great part of the year, has very little 

 time to spare, but who, nevertheless, has made the acquaintance 

 of a good many of our feathered friends. 



I live in the city of Hartford, Conn., and my home is about a 

 mile from Trinity College, where I have charge of the work in 

 Natural History. Of course I have the summer vacation and a 

 good many hours during the term which I can devote to the study 

 of birds, but it is not of these times that I wish to speak, but of 

 my busy days. I generally walk between my house and the col- 

 lege, through a part of the year at least. My way lies through 

 old Zion Hill Cemetery, and if I choose to allow a few minutes 

 more time, I can go through one or two new parks which are in 

 almost my direct route. The college itself stands on a trap ridge, 

 with open fields on three sides, those to the west being largely 

 raeadowland. As a result of all this, I am able to see a good many 

 birds as I go back and forth and to acquire a bowing acquaintance 

 with many of them at a very small outlay of time. 



All winter long I hear the call of the Crows across the low- 

 lands. All winter long Chickadees and occasional Kinglets spend 

 their sunny days along the southern edge of the old cemetery. In 

 early and late winter the Juncos flit from bush to bush, and after 

 heavy snows the Meadowlarks come in, seeking food. To the high 

 firs of the cemetery come the first Crow Blackbirds, and, a little 

 later, the meadows west of the college are ringing with the notes 

 of the Song Sparrow. So the birds come, one after another, to this 

 single mile within the city limits till all the summer visitors are 

 here. Slowly they leave in the autumn, till Zion Hill is again 

 surrendered to the Crow, the Nuthatch, the Chickadee and the 

 Downy Woodpecker. 



When I first kept a daily record of the birds, I began it with 

 the determination to spend upon it no time that belonged to my 

 work^ — simply to make it an incidental in my every-day occupa- 



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