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From the Maine Coast 



The coniferous woods of Mount Desert 

 Island, and the smaller islands that lie 

 thickly about it, are alive with the flashing 

 wings and lisping songs of Warblers at 

 this time of year. The Black-throated 

 Green Warblers are especially common. 

 On sunny days they delight to perch in 

 the tops of spruce trees among the 

 thickly clustered cones, and sing with 

 obvious enjoyment a quaint song of 

 five notes which is phrased not unlike 

 part of the White-throated Sparrow's 

 song: Sweet, siveet, Canada. The first 

 two notes are in a drawling, reedy tone; 

 the last three clear and very rapid. 



I was walking today (June 19) along 

 the shingle beach in the seaward side of 

 one of the small islands off Seal Harbor. 

 A strip of grass land ended in a sandbank 

 above me, and fifty yards inland was a 

 thick spruce thicket. A stiff breeze blew 

 from the sea, lifting the whitecaps, and I 

 was watching the Herring Gulls wing 

 their steady flight out to their nesting 

 islands. Suddenly my attention was 

 caught by a small bird fluttering over the 

 seaweed that was pushed a little further 

 inward by each wave of the incoming tide. 

 A closer look showed it to be a female 

 Myrtle Warbler. She exhibited the most 

 extraordinary feats, in order to capture 

 the numerous flies that haunted the 

 seaweed, keep her balance against the 

 strong wind, and avoid wetting her 

 dainty person in the foam. After several 

 minutes of such effort, she flew into the 

 woods, but reappeared again after five 

 minutes' interval. She made this trip 

 three times before returning to the woods 

 for good. Even with my glass, I could see 

 no insects in her bill before she flew into 

 the woods, and a search of the thicket 

 (brief, it must be admitted) failed to 

 reveal the bird herself or a nest. Perhaps 

 she flew into the woods to rest from her 

 violent exertions by the waves. 



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It was a strange sight to see this dainty 

 bird (even though the Myrtle Warbler 

 is one of the hardiest members of the 

 family) fluttering over the wave-beaten 

 seaweed in the teeth of a strong wind 

 from the open sea. I should have expected 

 it of a Sandpiper. But perhaps the Myrtle 

 Warbler sought a change of scene and a 

 taste of sea-food. — Tertius van Dyke, 

 Seal Harbor, Maine. 



Bird Notes from Collins, N. Y. 



Prairie Horned Larks were numerous 

 all winter — at least 150 or 200 in a flock — 

 and many are here still. This is a 500- 

 acre farm, next door to woods and the 

 extensive Seneca Indian reservation, which 

 is an ideal place for bird-study. The 

 secretary of the Audubon Society of 

 Buffalo was very enthusiastic over it 

 during a recent visit. The neglected 

 pastures, thickets, tangles, and scrubby 

 undergrowth attract numerous birds — 

 notably Chestnut-sided Warblers, Indigo 

 Buntings, Chats, Catbirds, Thrashers, 

 Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Tanagers, 

 Towhees, etc. Killdeer are numerous. 

 Holboell's Grebe is seen at every spring 

 migration. 



This year was an exceptional one for 

 Warblers, which were a week earlier than 

 usual. The Blackburnian was very abun- 

 dant, also the Black-throated Blue, 

 Wilson's, and Magnolia. The following 

 Warblers are nesting here in abundance: 

 Black-throated Green, Parula, Hooded, 

 Redstart, Ovenbird, Black and White, 

 Maryland Yellow-throat, Yellow, and 

 Chestnut-sided. There is an occasional 

 Black-throated Blue and Chat and, ever 

 since June i, a male Mourning Warbler 

 has sung daily in the same tree at the 

 edge of a tangled undergrowth on a hill- 

 side. The Indian who lives near says he 

 was there last year also. He sings for 

 half an hour at a time in the top of a 

 hemlock, and I have had abundant 



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