Nesting of the Ruby -crowned Kinglet 53 



From the song I at once recognized a tiny bird which I had heard 

 singing high in a h've-oak last winter near Santa Barbara. How pleas- 

 ant to find him again in his chosen home! 



He was soon joined by his little mate, colored exactly like himself, but 

 lacking the flaming crown-ornament, and much quieter in her ways. 

 Often I saw them with insects, and thought they would surely carry them to 

 the nest, but I had long to wait before they quite overcame their timidity. 

 Finally they both flitted to a tree from which a branch covered with thick 

 twigs and tufts of pine needles hung down within about ten feet of the ground, 

 somewhat in the form of a basket. The female stayed there a long time, 

 with a big moth in her beak. This, however, did not at all interfere with 

 her articulation, for she continued to call "Help! help!" and "a-tittup! a- 

 tittup ! " ' as well as if her mouth was empty. Finally she made a quick and 

 noiseless dive into the hanging basket, and slipped away without the moth. 



There was the nest, well hidden among the twigs, which made the 

 greater part of the framework. Among these were loosely stuffed and 

 woven a great mass of green moss and dried grasses and seeds. The 

 outside dimensions were six by five inches. It could hardly be called 

 pensile, as it depended so much for support on the twigs. When taken 

 down after the little ones had no further use for it, it proved to be 

 warmly lined with a pint or more of feathers of all sorts. Among these 

 I recognized many of the Red-shafted Flicker, Blackbirds, Grouse, Purple 

 Finch and Blue Jays. I was glad to see that they had some trophies of 

 their enemy, for never a morning passed that the brave little father did 

 not have to attack and drive away one of these marauders, — not from 

 the immediate neighborhood of the nest, for he was never allowed to 

 get near it, but from the very edge of the glade. This tiny bird 

 effectually policed the whole bird city, and must have saved the other 

 birds much trouble. Surely he proved his right to the name of Kinglet. 



The spring was very late this year. Snow fell on the first of June, 

 so it was not surprising that the young were only just hatched on July 

 13. Day by day I watched the busy little parents, till they grew quite 

 familiar, though they were always anxious if I came nearer than within ten 

 yards of the nest tree. They were busy every minute feeding with tiny 

 flies, moths and small green caterpillars their numerous brood. I never 

 succeeded in counting them, for the nest was quite inaccessible, but 

 when I saw them, on July 21, dispersed among the pine saplings, I 

 did not wonder at the father's song, "Too many, too many, too 

 many!" Now that his brood had escaped the prowling Jay and chip- 

 munk, and had safely slipped out of their frail nest and divided the risk, 

 since all his eggs were no longer in one basket, the little man seemed 

 somewhat less anxious. He was less inclined to fight with all the world, 

 and carried his responsibilities somewhat more lightly. He still came close 



