Notes from Field and Study 



425 



feathered friends attracted to the neigh- 

 borhood of my windows. And, most cur- 

 ious of all, to me, is the frequency with 

 which Jay feeds Jay Why, in the dead 

 of winter, or early in the spring (April 7 

 and 17, to be exact in two cases), should 

 one Jay give another Jay a sunflower seed, 

 the latter being apparently as well able to 

 help himself (or herself) from the table as 

 the former? Or why should one fly off to 

 a lower branch in the hedge to be promptly 

 approached, as if by prearrangement, by 

 another to which he gives some morsel 

 taken from the shelf? I cannot tell; I only 

 know it is done. Sometimes the recipient 

 immediately eats the tidbit; sometimes it 

 takes it between its feet to crack it open. 

 And, again, when the camera has caught 

 from three to five Jays feeding together, 

 why there should be times when there 

 seem to be two laws, well-observed: "One 

 at a time, please," and "The line forms on 

 this side?" That is, one Jay feeds for 

 from thirty to forty seconds and then flies 

 off; immediately it is succeeded by a 

 second that has been perched just above 

 the shelf; when this one has finished a 

 third comes down and takes its place; and 

 this may go on for as long as twenty min- 

 utes — a veritable bread-line. That other 

 birds should keep off when the Jays are 

 feeding is not to be wondered at; and yet 

 it is not a universal rule — the Jays do not 

 seem always to inspire terror. One summer 

 day a Jay hastily left its bath when a 

 Robin came to drink; one May 23 a single 

 female Rose-breasted Grosbeak success- 

 fully kept three Jays (apparently not 

 young ones) from coming on to the shelf, 

 and her belligerent spirit continued when 

 a male and female of her own species later 

 appeared; but she soon relented and the 

 three fed in peace together. For June 4 

 my journal records: "Male Cowbird suc- 

 cessfully and repeatedly drives off, and 

 keeps off, Jay from shelf; then, proud of 

 his powers, he also drives off a male Rose- 

 breasted Grosbeak." The Doves proved 

 equally successful in keeping the Jays 

 away, and the young ones, in July, even 

 followed their parents' example. (What a 

 difference between a family of noisy, cry- 



ing, whining. Jays, I looking too old to be 

 fed, and a family of silent Doves, looking 

 too young to feed themselves!) To revert 

 to the Jays, I find that the Grackles are 

 not afraid of them at any time, and that 

 the Jays prefer to vacate when a Grackle 

 appears. In fact, most birds leave the 

 shelf when the metallic-headed, evil-eyed 

 Blackbirds come to eat, save the Cowbird, 

 to whom color resemblance may perchance 

 allow an entree. And the White-breasted 

 Nuthatch, who almost runs between their 

 legs in his clumsy little way of trying to 

 walk horizontally after ceaselessly running 

 vertically, up or down, is unafraid in the 

 presence of these swarthy and larger 

 birds. And shall I ever forget the comical 

 expression on the face of a Nuthatch which 

 flew on to the shelf when a Junco was feed- 

 ing. The hyemalis promptly dropped to a 

 lower branch, and the little Nuthatch 

 turned and looked at him, as if to say, 

 "You were not afraid of me, were you?" 

 and then went about his business of eating. 



Some time in 191 5 a young Grackle 

 appeared one day (when the shelf was at 

 my window) with a sore foot. A little 

 later a second one appeared with the same 

 afflict on. Later in the summer one of 

 them had entirely lost the foot; the other 

 seemed unaltered, and the foot seemed 

 'withered' and was never used. They were 

 both frequent feeders until November. 

 In 1916 the one with the 'withered' foot 

 returned and was here all summer. It kept 

 constantly by itself, and in October (after 

 I returned from a month's absence) I wrote 

 of it: "It has grown quite white on the 

 shoulders and upper back, and looks like 

 a patriarch." This year I have not seen it. 



And so one could go on almost endlessly. 

 What a red-letter day when two sprightly 

 little Ruby-crowned Kinglets (whose song 

 had been so often heard earlier) decided to 

 try my restaurant. What a banisher of 

 spring-fever the sight and sound of Tow- 

 hee and Fox Sparrow scratching among the 

 dead leaves. What music to the ears the 

 first-heard Peahody song of the White- 

 throat, even though when first heard it is 

 never completed. How unusual to see a 

 Downy suddenly leave the suet on the tree- 



