HINTS TO AUDUBON WORKERS* 



FIFTY COMMON BIRDS AND HOW TO KNOW THEM. 



WHEN you begin to study the warb- 

 lers, you will probably come to 

 the conclusion that you know nothing about 

 birds, and can never learn. But if you be- 

 gin by recognizing their common traits, and 

 then study a few of the easiest ones and 

 those that nest in your locality, you will get 

 less discouraged, and, when the flocks come 

 back at the next migration, will be able to 

 master the peculiarities of a larger number. 



Most of them are very small — much less 

 than half the size of a robin — and are not 

 only short but slender. Active as the chick- 

 adee or kinglet, they are good examples of 

 perpetual motion, flitting about the trees 

 and undergrowth after insects without con- 

 sideration for the observer who is attempt- 

 ing to make out their markings. 



As a group, they are dashed with all the 

 colors of the rainbow, a flock of them look- 

 ing as if a painter had thrown his palette at 

 them. You can see no rhyme or reason in 

 the confusing combinations, and when you 

 find that their colors differ entirely accord- 

 ing to age and sex, you despair of ever 

 mastering them. 



Why they should be called warblers is a 

 puzzle, as a large percentage of them have 

 nothing worthy the name of a song, nothing 

 but a thin chatter, or a shrill piping trill. 



If you wish to form a negative concep- 

 tion of them, think of the coloring, song 

 and habits of the thrush. No contrast could 

 be more complete. 



The best places to look for them during 

 migration are young trees, sunny slopes, 

 and orchards. 



BLACKBURNIAN WARBLER; HEMLOCK WARB- 

 LER; ORANGE-THROATED WARBLER. 



The Blackburnian is one of the hand- 

 somest and most easily recognized of the 



♦Copyright, 1887, by Florence A. Merriam. 



warblers. His throat is a rich orange or 

 flame color, so brilliant that you can never 

 mistake him for any of the others. His 

 back is black, with yellowish markings. 

 His crown is black, but has an orange spot 

 in the center; the rest of his head, except 

 near his eye, being the same flaming orange 

 as his throat. His wings have white 

 patches, and his breast is whitish, tinged 

 with yellow. His sides are streaked with 

 black. The female and young are duller, 

 the black of their backs being mingled with 

 olive; while their throats are yellow, instead 

 of orange. 



Now and then you are fortunate enough 

 to get a near view of this exquisite bird, but 

 he has an aggravating fondness for the 

 highest branches of the tallest trees. You 

 can see that there is something up there, 

 but as you throw your head back against 

 your collar and strain through your opera 

 glass, you fancy it is some phantom bird 

 flitting about darkening the leaves. The 

 seconds wear into minutes, but you dare 

 not change your position. Your glasses 

 won't help you to see through the leaves, 

 but you feel sure that something will ap- 

 pear in a moment, over the edge of that 

 spray or on the end of that bare twig and it 

 won't do to miss it. So when your neck- 

 ache becomes intolerable you fix your eye 

 on the spot and step cautiously backward 

 till you can lean up against a tree. The 

 support disappoints you, your hand trem- 

 bles as much as ever, and your neck is 

 growing stiff. You make a final effort, take 

 your glass in both hands, and change your 

 focus, when suddenly you hear a low, fine 

 trill, that you recognize from being ac- 

 cented on the end like a redstart's, coming 

 from a branch several feet higher over your 

 head. Your neck refuses to bend an inch 



