Notes on the Birds of February and March, 1902 



PRIZE ESSAY 



By VINCENT E. GORMAN (aged 14 years), Montclair, N. J. 



DURING the winter and spring of each year it is my custom to take 

 short trips, generally into the rural district west of Orange Mountain, 

 New Jersey, to look for birds. On these journeys I carry an opera - 

 glass and a note-book, in which I record the number and kind of birds that 

 1 see. 



My list for February, 1902, includes the Robin, Bluebird, Crow, Blue 

 Jay, Red-tailed and Marsh Hawks, White -breasted Nuthatch, Chickadee, 

 Downy Woodpecker, Golden - crowned Kinglet, Goldfinch, Junco, and 

 the English Song, Chipping and Tree Sparrows. 



I was rather disappointed not to find the Crossbill, Northern Shrike, 

 and other winter visitors, but the winter had been too mild, I think, for 

 them to venture so far south. 



My first Robin was seen on Lincoln's birthday, and a Bluebird showed 

 its patriotic colors a few days later. On February 20, a flock of Robins ap- 

 peared, on their northward journey. It seemed like spring to have these 

 neighbors back again, though the wind whistled past the telegraph wires 

 and the ground was covered with snow. 



Toward the end of March the Robins became more numerous. On one 

 morning, between six and seven o'clock, I counted no less than 527 of 

 them, all flying north. A few days previous to this I saw 336 Crows. 



This winter I learned that the Blue Jay is capable of making a number 

 of sounds other than its usual screams. While walking through the woods 

 one day I heard a noise similar to that produced by an unoiled grindstone. 

 I investigated, knowing that none of those implements were to be found in 

 that vicinity, and were surprised to find the squeaks made by a Blue Jay. 



The Goldfinches were scarcely recognizable in their winter dress, but 

 when I drew near I could detect the yellow showing through the brown 

 feathers. I was interested in watching a small flock which had head- 

 quarters in an old field. These birds could distinguish between the care- 

 less walk of a passer-by and the cautious manner of a bird student. When 

 I approached stealthily they would rise and swing merrily to the other side of 

 the pasture, calling ^^ ba-by! ba-byf^^ as if to ridicule my endeavor to reach 

 them. If, however, I changed my tactics, and walked rapidly past, with 

 no attempt at concealment, they remained perfectly still. 



A flock of Song Sparrows stayed through the winter, and seemed as 



(64) 



