Relation of Summer Birds to Western Adirondack Forest 457 



This sparrow was active in the open parts of the Bog, where were 

 only a few living trees, the most of the vegetation being small second- 

 growth and heath shrubs springing from a sphagnum carpet. It 

 was the strange outburst of song, uttered only occasionally, and 

 usually when the male came from the nest and alighted in the lower 

 branches of a larger tree, that aroused my attention to the fact that 

 I had to deal with something not a Song Sparrow, and its identifi- 

 action quickly followed. Lincoln's Sparrow is much shyer and 

 warier than the Song Sparrow, and keeps at a distance from obser- 

 vation; moreover, it utilizes the lower portions of the trees more than 

 the Song Sparrow, and seems not to be a bird of the bushes nor 

 of the shoreline shrubbery, as the Song Sparrow is, though its 

 foraging for food is chiefly in low shrubs. 



The singing of the Lincoln's Sparrow is very different from any of 

 the Song Sparrow's performances. The general song' consists of 

 three parts or series of notes. At first it sounded like a strange 

 warbler song ; later I classed it as a wren-like performance intro- 

 duced by several sparrow notes and ending with a jingle like a 

 Meadowlark's or Towhee's. The three sets of movements will serve 

 to distinguish the singing of Lincoln's Sparrow from that of the 

 Song Sparrow or the White-throat when all these birds are inhab- 

 iting the same bog. 



The actions and calls of these three sparrows when disturbed in 

 nesting or feeding their young are also very distinctive and different. 

 The White-throat and the Song Sparrow will chirp anxiously near 

 the nest or at the disturber when danger threatens the nest or young, 

 but the Lincoln's Sparrow will skulk silently and secretively in the 

 neighborhood, making little outcry and furtively watching the course 

 of events. The W'hite-throated Sparrow utters a nervous clink 

 marked by a metallic quality, and the Song Sparrow manifests its 

 alarm by a scolding tsckick in an explosive tone ; but the Lincoln 

 Sparrow hides behind a convenient clump of saplings and keeps 

 quiet, leaving its young to do the squalling. Once this summer I 

 chanced to be in the Bog when three fledglings of the Lincoln's 

 Sparrow left the nest, and I was at once attracted to the spot by 

 their harsh cries. Nfo adults were visible when I reached the place, 

 and the young squalled persistently as they perched low among the 

 shrub stems waiting for the adults to visit them with food. It was 

 in a spot where alders clustered, and the insect pests of the swamp 

 hovered around me, but I determined to watch the proceedings for 

 a while. For many minutes I waited, wiping off mosquitoes and 

 "punkies" and other hungry minutiae, but during the time I heard 

 nothing of the parent birds. Frequently one or another of the 

 youngsters would slip out of my sight for a moment, and then I 

 could hear a chirping of satisfaction from the young one not in view, 

 and I knew one of the adults had slipped in and fed the bird with- 

 out my noticing it. The three youngsters would scatter just enough 

 to prevent my seeing them all at one time, and then in spite of my 

 vigilance I would miss seeing the parent feed one or another of 



