4 THE NIDOLOGIST 
was much less. The position of the eggs was un- 
usual but was probably accidental. The eggs were 
in two rows, three in one row while the fourth had 
a row all to itself, with the small end facing the 
middle egg of the other row. Icarefully wrapped 
the eggs and placed them in atin can. Wrapping 
the nest I cautiously climbed down the tree with 
the nest and eggs. Placing them on the ground I 
picked up my gun to collect the female. She 
flew 75 yards to another tree and began to pick 
insects from the leaves. I then shot her, thereby 
making identity perfectly sure. The nest is a 
much more substantial structure than that of any 
Black-headed Grosbeak I have collected. It is 
composed of three materials. The foundation is 
of twigs broken from the tree. Upon this is 
placed the nest proper—of long moss-like rootlets 
of a very dark color and very small size. Inside 
this is the lining of light-colored rootlets and a 
couple of dry pine needles. 
The inside diameter is about three inches and 
the outside is fourand one-half inches’) The eggs 
are of a light greenish-blue ground color, spotted 
and blotched with dark brown and black. They 
measure .g6x.66, .g1x.64 and .88x.63 inches. This 
set of eggs was taken at an elevation of 4,700 feet 
in E] Deradc county, Cal., three miles from the 
American River. I saw eight or ten birds at 
this elevation during four days stay. At 3,700 
feet, ten or fifteen were seen the first week in 
June, two or three being in an apple orchard near 
an empty house. A pair was scen and shot near 
Lake Tahoe in some willow trees by a small 
stream. They seemed to stay in the tall thick 
pines the greater part of the day, though in the 
mornings they would visit the tops of the black 
oak trees for food. 
Berryessa, Cal. RoLLO H. BECK. 
pieced before the Cooper Orn. Club, September, 
1896. ) 
+ oe 
The Pileated Woodpecker. 
BY C. H. MORRELL, 
ONG AGO, in this part of the state,the 
great pines, the original tenants of the 
soil, disappeared before the axe of the 
pioneer, and now only a few gray, weather- 
beaten stumps are left, a lingering remem- 
brance of the ‘‘forest primeval’’ which gave 
to Maine the title, the ‘‘Pine Tree State.’’ 
Following the pines came the forests of 
birch, beech, maple, spruce and hemlock, 
and now these, too, have been cut down 
until they stand in isolated blocks or are 
connected by growths of young trees and 
bushy pastures. 
The clearing of the land drove back to 
less thickly settled localities many birds 
which were once abundant, and now such 
birdsas the Canada Grouse, Cauada Jay and 
Hudsonian Chickadee are unknown, while 
birds of a more southerly range, as the 
Crested Flycatcher and the Meadowlark, 
have become common or occasional summer 
residents. 
In the secluded portions of these rem- 
nants of the forest a few Pileated Wood- 
peckers remain. Wild, surpassing even 
the Crow in wariness, they are rarely seen 
and still more rarely observed. My ac- 
quaintance with this bird had been limited 
to an occasional glimpse in the woods, and 
to the examination of one or two mounted 
specinens secured by much labor and 
valued accordingly. ‘That I should ever 
chance upon a nest of this species was a 
thought beyond my most sangine expecta- 
tions, but we are told ‘‘it’s the unexpected 
that happens,’’ and so it was with this. 
May 16, 1895, I was returning from a 
long and unsuccessful tramp through one 
of the large blocks of woodland, and had 
reached the outer portion of it—a small 
patch of large trees free from under-brush, 
partially separated from the main growth 
by cuttings—when I noticed a small beech 
stub with a large hole about thirty feet 
from the ground, which had the appearance 
of having been recently made. I had 
walked but a little way toward the stub 
when there appeared at the entrance of the 
cavity the black-and-white striped and 
scarlet-crested head of a Pileated Wood- 
pecker. 
“Just digging her hole,”’ was my mental 
comment, and I hastened to leave without 
further investigation. After arriving home 
I proceeded to examine all the books and 
papers I had accessible, hoping to learn 
something as to the probable time when 
fresh eggs might be expected. 
Isoon realized that such statements as 
“first of May to middle of June,’’ while 
undoubtedly correct, were not as satisfac- 
tory as would appear at first glance. As 
for the papers, there were Pileated Wood- 
peckers in Florida and Ohio, but apparently 
there wasz’t one within five hundred miles 
of Maine. Left thus to my own resources, 
I decided that they ought to lay about the 
same time as other Woodpeckers, or late in 
May. 
On the 28th I visited thenest. A rap on 
the trunk brought the bird to the entrance, 
and as I struck my spurs preparatory to 
ascending, she left the nest, flying directly 
out of sight without uttering a sound. As 
I neared the entrance a slight ‘‘screeing” 
noise from the cavity caused a sudden drop 
in my expectations, and on introducing a 
little mirror, always carried for such occa- 
sions, 2 glance showed my worst fears real- 
ized, the chicks were even then struggling 
