Some Nesting Habits of the Oregon Junco 



By MAY R. THAYER, Everett, Wash. 



THE Oregon Juncos are permanent residents of the Puget Sound region, 

 and have habitually nested about our home. It was not until the sum- 

 mer of 1Q08, however, that I had an opportunity of observing them 

 closely during a part of the nesting-season. In the spring of the same year, I 

 had tried to discover the nesting-place of the pair that frequented our lunch- 

 counter, but with no success. For their second nest, they very accommodatingly 

 selected a site within a stone's-throwof our door. Our first intimation that they 

 were building in our immediate vicinity came to us on June 8, when I noticed 

 the female picking up hairs that Donald, the collie, had scattered on the walk. 

 This told the tale of a nearly completed nest, and to discover its whereabouts 

 I kept my eye on the bird. She alighted on a low branch of a cedar tree in a 

 wide, sunny ravine, the slope of which began about a dozen feet from the house. 

 From the tree she dropped to the ground, out of sight below the brow of the 

 hill. I watched until she reappeared without her burden; then I knew that a 

 longed-for opportunity was at hand; that her nest was on the slope between the 

 tree and the house, and that it was only a matter of time when I should find it. 

 For two or three days, they busied themselves with the completion of the 

 nest. The actual construction of the nest seemed to fall to the share of the 

 female, while the male watched over her, encouraging her by his presence and 

 his music. They always came together for the dog hairs. Often he would perch 

 on a tall stump beside the walk, and watch her while she worked, singing with 

 the greatest energy. At other times, he would alight, still singing, on the walk 

 beside her, and would follow her about, with his tail spread wide to show its 

 white feathers. When she went to the nest, he always escorted her to the 

 cedar tree, where he waited for her. After each visit to the nest, the two 

 invariably took a little excursion through the evergreens in the ravine, she in 

 the lead from tree to tree, and he after her, stopping frequently to sing a few 

 strains. It seemed as if she purposely delayed her work to tease him, and his 

 joy, when she returned to her labors, was pretty to see. He would hover over 

 her with tail spread fan-like, and sing as if he would burst his little throat. 

 This love song is a succession of high notes in a monotonous trill or rattle, 

 not unlike the song of the Chipping Sparrow, but much fuller and sweeter, and 

 the strain is shorter. It is very different from the low warble of the early 

 mating season. 



The female has a dainty way of collecting the hairs, taking each one by the 

 middle, until she has a little brush protruding from each side of her bill. Only 

 once I saw the male make an attempt to help her. He picked up a piece of 

 dry grass, flew with it to the telephone wire, held it for a few seconds, then 

 dropped it, and went to singing as if glad to show there was one thing in which 

 he could excel. 



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