Notes from Field and Study 



205 



job was done. It was a successful operation 

 though requiring, of course, a little after 

 treatment. Within a week, the bird was 

 apparently in normal condition; and, a 

 little later, was able to take care of 

 himself. 



I very much regret that I did not have 

 an opportunity to have the little patient 

 photographed, for I am sure that a good 

 picture would have been a remarkable one 

 and would have shown more than I have 

 been able to describe. 



I believe, too, that it might have served 

 a useful purpose. For a long while it has 

 been known — or, at least, believed — that 

 birds in their flight have aids other than 

 the use of their wings. Even the bones, we 

 are told, and possibly other parts, by some 

 involuntary action, are inflated with air. 



In this case, I am quite sure that the 

 skin was not torn from the flesh; but still a 

 good part of it — probably the covering of 

 as much as one-fourth of the surface of the 

 bird's body — was loose, and seemingly 

 capable of serving a purpose in forming a 

 kind of balloon. 



May it not be, after all, that just how 

 birds fly is one of the things concerning 

 which there is much yet to be learned? — 

 R. F. O'Neal, St. Louis, Mo. 



A Bit oi Siskin Courtship 



Oi;i April 29, 1909, in company with a 

 bird-loving friend, I came upon a large 

 flock of Pine Siskins in a raspberry patch. 

 Many of them were feeding on the seeds 

 of the chick-weed which grew luxuriantly 

 in the rich soil. Others were sunning them- 

 selves on the cross-bars of the trellises, 

 while the remainder of the flock had taken 

 possession of a blossoming alder tree, and 

 were filling the soft spring air with music. 

 No one who has heard only the call note 

 of these birds can realize how sweet and 

 mellow a Siskin chorus can be, though the 

 wheezy notes are freely interspersed 

 throughout. Through the chinks in the tall, 

 close fence that enclosed the field, we could 

 watch the flock without dinger of being 

 seen. Our attention was called to three 

 birds on a cross-bar about seven feet from 



where we stood. Two were close together 

 and the third a little apart, and all three 

 were opening and closing their bills, 

 stretching them wide as if yawning and 

 closing them with a snap. Before we had 

 time to consider what it might mean, the 

 two turned toward each other and touched 

 their bills in a most lover-like manner. 

 They were quiet a moment, then one opened 

 his bill wide again and they both flew away 

 followed by the third, leaving us in a bewil- 

 dered state of uncertainty and delight. It 

 was only after comparing observations 

 that we convinced ourselves that we had 

 had the privilege of witnessing an interest- 

 ing bit of courtship. — May R. Thayer, 

 Everett, Washington. 



A Vireo Tragedy 



On July 9, 1910, a dead Warbling Vireo 

 was found by some little boys while at 

 play. The bird was a victim of one of 

 those accidents that sometimes befall our 

 avian neighbors. Having caught one foot 

 in a long piece of coarse thread, it had 

 entangled the thread on a twig of an apple- 

 tree. Many twists and loops in the thread 

 gave evidence of the long struggle made by 

 the unfortunate little creature before it 

 succumbed. The accident may have 

 occured at nest-building time, for the 

 flesh was as hard and dry as that of a 

 mummy. — Althea R. Sherman, National, 

 Iowa. 



A Confiding Red-eyed Vireo 



Some years ago I spent a summer in 

 Maine, on a farm, and needing out-of-door 

 life, I began to study and notice birds, with 

 increasing enthusiasm. I would place 

 building materials in a little tree just out- 

 side the window, and watch from a couch 

 the different birds that took cotton, 

 feathers, strings, etc., thus often tracing 

 the nest. Chippies, Kingbirds, Phoebes, 

 Swallows, Robins, Orioles and Yellow 

 Warblers bore away their choice until 

 little was left. One day late in May, when 

 only a few scraps of cotton were remaining, 

 there appeared a small, greenish bird, 

 clinging to the lower side of the limb, col- 



