Notes from Field and Study 



311 



The materials for the nest were almost 

 entirely collected at a point 150 yards 

 distant from the nest (the city dumping- 

 ground,), and in plain view with my 

 glasses. This would make the total 

 journeying of the male about 14 miles, 

 while the female flew about 18 miles. The 

 day was fine, though windy. 



The, to me, rather extraordinary fact 

 is that by 9.30 a.m. of the following day 

 an egg was laid. The extreme rapidity 

 with which the nest was completed may 

 possibly be accounted for by the pressing 

 necessity of a receptacle for the egg. 



Some slight addition may have been 

 made to the nest before I saw it on the 

 second morning but, if so, it was too small 

 to be recognized by one. 



The nest with the egg weighed ioj^ 

 ounces. In it were subsequently hatched 

 and reared three young. — Berners B. 

 Kelly, Great Falls, Montana. 



Nocturnal Songsters 



On the evening of May 31, 1913, I was 

 quietly sitting on the porch of our house 

 at High Point, N. J., which is four miles 

 from Port Jervis, N. Y., the same dis- 

 tance from Milford, Pa., and two miles 

 from Colesville, N. J. I had been listen- 

 ing for some time to the call of the Whip- 

 poor-will and, as the bird was quite close 

 to me, I could plainly distinguish that 

 peculiar un-bird-like sound that precedes 

 the familiar "Whip-poor-will" note. 



I was suddenly surprised at 9.30 by 

 hearing the trill of a Chipping Sparrow, 

 which was quickly followed by two or 

 three notes from a Red-eyed Vireo. For 

 a while all was silent and I did not expect 

 to hear any more song, but at 9.45 not 

 only did the Chipping Sparrow sing twice 

 and the Red-eyed Vireo give a few notes, 

 but they were joined by the penetrating 

 note of the Ovenbird. 



I was very much interested in hearing 

 these three diurnal birds so late at night, 

 but no doubt one bird awakened the other, 

 as all three calls came from the same gen- 

 eral locality. Once before I had heard an 

 Ovenbird call at the same hour, as was 



also the case with the Chipping Sparrow, 

 for both the Song and Chipping Sparrows 

 frequently sing during the night, but 

 never before had I heard the Red-eyed 

 Vireo. Robins occasionally call, and I 

 have heard one as late as ten o'clock. 

 In most of these cases the night was one 

 which was brightly illuminated by moon- 

 light. — John Dryden Kuser, Bernards- 

 ville, N. J. 



The Song Period of the Brown Thrasher 



In the educational leaflet on the Brown 

 Thrasher, in the August number of Bird- 

 Lore, Mr. Pearson says of the bird: "In 

 common with many other singing birds, 

 the worry and reponsibility of domestic 

 life ... do not, to any notable extent, 

 lessen the force or frequency of his 

 singing." 



This statement will not hold true for 

 this locality (Somerset Co., Pa.). 



The birds arrive with us from April 4 

 to April 20, and are in nearly full song at 

 the time of arrival, although the song 

 does not attain its perfection until the 

 latter part of the month. This continues 

 without interruption until about May 20, 

 at which time the female is usually sitting. 



Thenceforth there is gradual diminu- 

 tion in both the volume and the frequency 

 of singing, so that by the first week in 

 June songs are rare and of brief duration, 

 and later than the fifteenth the bird is 

 practically silent, so far as song is con- 

 cerned. 



This is in decided contrast to the habits 

 of its relative, the Catbird, which remains 

 in full song throughout July and well into 

 August. 



During the past seven years, I have 

 found the above to be the case, with very 

 little variation from the dates given, and 

 have always regretted that the fine song 

 of this species may be heard for so brief a 

 period only. 



It would be interesting to learn if 

 observers from other localities have noted 

 the same brevity of song period, or if the 

 habits of the birds differ in different 

 localities.— Ansel B. Miller, Springs, Pa. 



