292 



Bird - Lore 



beyond number. Now the last are more 

 scattered for nesting and more quiet. A 

 few Red-Eyes are likely to be found later 

 in the summer, but at the present date I 

 seldom hear one. 



Thrushes of all sorts are very few, even 

 during migrations; but I have seen a Veery 

 on two occasions, and last summer two 

 Wood Thrushes used to sing regularly 

 from a dense grove of pines in the center 

 of the village. This year I believe a pair 

 is nesting near by. 



The Baltimore Orioles are still singing 

 along the principal streets, and as their 

 favorite elms are very scarce, they seem 

 to prefer maples and the tall white locusts 

 for nest-trees. In some localities, Purple 

 Martins have nested for years in boxes 

 put up for them, but I have had no per- 

 sonal experience with them and reports 

 indicate that they are growing a little 

 scarce. House Wrens also are quite 

 ready to use suitable boxes. 



But the Blue Jays and Flickers here are 

 no more the wild birds of the woods that 

 I had formerly supposed them, than are 

 Song Sparrows! Flickers do not winter 

 here to my knowledge, but appeared 

 early in April, and two weeks later they 

 were to be heard and seen in every direc- 

 tion — on the ground, in trees, flying over 

 the fields, drumming, calling every note 

 they could remember (and that's quite a 

 variety!) and before long they began to 

 investigate old holes and start new ones. 

 Suitable wood seemed to be the only 

 necessity, for the hole might be freshly 

 drilled in some old dead favorite in the 

 woods with several black holes of past 

 years within a few feet, in the hollow of an 

 old apple tree, in the top of a telephone 

 pole beside the road, or — ^the best I have 

 yet seen — in an old stump only thirty- 

 five feet from the corner of a piazza. The 

 last, to be sure, is on the property of a 

 true bird-lover, far enough from the 

 village to be free of English Sparrows, 

 where the many trees contain boxes for 

 the Wrens and Martins and where, above 

 all, a water-pan is kept filled. Here the 

 Flickers come as well as others, not only 

 to drink but often to bathe, and delight 



their hostess by spattering the water to 

 the very edge of the porch. Yet the 

 Flickers had troubles, for once the stump 

 was cut down and had to be nailed back 

 in place, and a strip of tin fastened around 

 to discourage cats, for the hole is just 

 at a convenient height to look in. Yet 

 this is the fourth season they have used it. 



Blue Jays are plentiful all the year and 

 are ready to nest in the pines or big 

 arborvitffi hedges on one's lawn, or in the 

 woods, as the case may be. But now, of 

 course, they are far less noisy than earlier 

 in the spring. 



Chimney Swifts are plentiful, a number 

 of Barn Swallows and Whip-poor-wills are 

 in evidence, while on several occasions 

 I thought a Night Hawk called, but 

 never could find the bird. A few Doves 

 are about also, and almost any fine morn- 

 ing, soon after sunrise, their soft cooing 

 may be heard. All the spring Bluebirds 

 have been decidedly scarce, making me 

 wonder if the fast-increasing Starlings 

 are partly the cause. 



I have not mentioned the innumerable 

 Purple Crackles and Meadow Larks, nor 

 the Sparrows. Of the last, those nesting 

 are Chippy, Song, Field and Vesper, the 

 last less common now than in May; and 

 I saw a few Fox and White-throated 

 during migrations. Red Crossbills, which 

 were about at odd times during the winter, 

 surprised me on May 17 — a flock of eight! 



As the honeysuckle opens I hope each 

 day for the appearance of a pair of Hum- 

 mers, for last summer they nested on a 

 maple branch beside one of the main auto 

 streets, using dandelion puffs and the 

 usual covering of small pieces of lichen. 

 — Isabel McC. Lemmon, Brentwood, L. I. 



A Talented Song Sparrow 



Our little circle of bird-lovers were 

 enjoying the beauty of a June morning, 

 lounging under a maple, far enough 

 removed from the house to escape the 

 after-breakfast noises from the kitchen. 

 Indeed any noises would have seemed an 

 intrusion upon the mute speech of flower 

 and leaf, and meadow and scented air, 



