42 



THE NIDIOLOGIST 



heard everywhere, and many small birds 

 also, and a young Oregon Ruuflfed Grouse, 

 almost half grown, was flushed. So shel" 

 terecl was it about here that the season was 

 fully ten days ahead of that of Stevens 

 Prairie, for salmon-berries were ripe, and 

 some had fallen. The scenery is imposing 

 here, some of the mountains becoming pre- 

 cipitous. 



[concluded next month.] 



The Whcatear in Michigan, 



OCTOBER 4, 1894, was not one of those 

 golden nut-brown days that bring 

 gladness to the heart of the field 

 naturalist, but, on the contrary, was one of 

 those chill}^ autumn days so characteristic 

 of Michigan. Dark, leaden clouds overcast 

 the sky, which now and then was pierced 

 by the pale, sickly light of the sun, and to 

 add to the discomfort a cold wind, that 

 seemed to pierce one's very bones, was 

 ])lowing from the north-east. 



The day had been set apart for sometime 

 for a tramp afield with dog and gun. The 

 old dog had given many an anxious whine 

 and many a bark as he viewed the master's 

 preparations for the day's outing. The 

 promi.sed trip was "Henry Creek," the 

 "Warbler Woods," the "Swale on the 

 Dexter Road," and the "Three Sister 

 Lakes, " all lying from four to six miles 

 west of the city. "Scolopax" will remem- 

 ber this section well. The bottom lands of 

 the creek were passed, the Warbler Woods 

 had been done, lunch had been eaten, and 

 the vSwale was reached; here it had been 

 the intention to rest both dog and man, as 

 each was feeling the severity of the tramp. 

 The lonesome day had produced evil effects. 

 Sad memories of past days had crowded my 

 brain all day long, and thechanged appear- 

 ance of the vSwale caused a more home-sick 

 feeling than I care to enjoy. This spot, 

 where in May the King Rail had given up 

 her treasures in the way of a fine .set of 

 eggs and lost her own life in the cause of 



science, where the Sora Rails had patrolled 

 the rushes all da}' long, and the Red-wing 

 Blackbird had piped his "okalee," was 

 now dry mud, deeply imprinted with the 

 hoof-marks of cattle. No grass or rushes, 

 only a few stunted cat-tails and bushes de- 

 void of leaves were to be seen. The old 

 dog looked at me with an anxious whine, as 

 if to say, "No Woodcock here; let's go 

 on." We had a good mile's walk to reach 

 the larger of the lakes, where I expected to 

 meet what had really taken me out — "Tit- 

 larks" — active, busy little friends of mine 

 that I like to interview for a short time 

 ever}- Spring and Fall. Jiinco Jiiemalis had 

 come down from the north, and was every- 

 where! Little bands of Yellow-rumped 

 Warblers had passed me now and then all 

 through the day. I had met a few Black- 

 poll Warblers in the Warbler Woods; while 

 on the creek bottom hundreds of Rusty 

 Blackbirds were feeding, except when dis- 

 turbed by the Marsh Hawks. 



As we moved through the wood the 

 Crows flew hurriedly overhead, and the 

 Blue Jays scolded from the gnarled and 

 sturdy oaks. The lakes were reached, the 

 north shore worked, and still no Titlarks; 

 but as we rounded the east end we sudden- 

 ly found ourselves in the midst of a flock of 

 at least four hundred of our little friends. 

 We were enjoying this visit when suddenly 

 there appeared a new form, clad in a more 

 yellowish garb than its companions, with 

 upper tail coverts and l)asal half of tail 

 white. The little "Parker" springs to my 

 shoulder, a sharp report, and ere the wind 

 has driven the smoke awa}- the old dog lays 

 in my hand — what! A bird new to me; 

 yes, after twenty-six years of active field 

 work Michigan has again given me a 

 treasure. Oh, Michigan, you grand old 

 State, I thank you! Oh, little wanderer, 

 where didst thou come from? 



From Greenland, the rocky shores of 

 Labrador, the Hudson Bay country, or the 

 Yukon region, the home of the Snowy Owl 

 and the Ptarmigan? You will never answer 



