Notes from Field and Study 



371 



This time I saw more plainly the white 

 outer tail-feathers, three on either side of 

 a dark band in the middle, and the fan- 

 like opening and shutting of the tail, as 

 the beautiful creature made his little fly- 

 catcher-like darts in and out among the 

 leaves. 



I was sure enough then to telephone to 

 the Brookline Library, where the Brook- 

 line Bird Club has the use of a part of the 

 bulletin board, that a male Hooded 

 Warbler had been seen in the Garden near 

 the corner of Beacon and Charles streets. 



When I met my acquaintance at noon, 

 she was a little incredulous; for, though 

 my description seemed to apply, she was 

 sure that the Hooded Warbler never came 

 here. 



While we were hunting for it, Mr. For- 

 bush, the State Ornithologist entered the 

 Garden, and courteously inquired of my 

 companion whether she had seen anything 

 new and interesting. She told him what I 

 had seen, and just then the bird popped 

 into sight. Mr. Forbush pronounced him 

 an old male Hooded Warbler, and said 

 that it was seldom one saw such perfect 

 plumage at this season of the year. 



I spread the news as far as I could 

 among my bird-loving acquaintances, as 

 I wanted everybody who was interested 

 to have this unusual opportunity. Friends 

 saw him on Saturday and on Sunday in 

 the same location, and I saw him again 

 this noon (Monday) while a fine mist was 

 falling. 



Several people have seen him, but, so 

 far as I know, I was the first to discover 

 him, and the only one who has heard him 

 sing. — (Miss) Edith McLellan Hale, 

 Brookline, Mass. 



A Late Goldfinch 



On October 6, 19 13, while in the field 

 observing birds, I was surprised to see how 

 exceedingly close a certain Goldfinch in 

 the winter plumage allowed me to ap- 

 proach the thistle upon which it was 

 perched, uttering a continual series of 

 chirps, hisses, squeaks, and other calls 

 characteristic of the species. Not until I 



was almost within arm's reach did it make 

 any attempt to leave, and then fluttered 

 only a few feet farther on, to another 

 thistle. Looking about for the attraction to 

 this particular spot, I soon discovered a nest 

 in a young maple sapling about five feet 

 from the ground. And such a nest! Never 

 before have I seen the nest of any wild 

 bird in such filthy condition. Not only 

 the exterior of the nest, but the leaves of 

 the tree all the way to the ground, and 

 the ground itself directly under the nest, 

 were simply covered with hard, dry 

 excrement. More out of curiosity than 

 anything else, I bent the tree gently over 

 to examine the interior of the nest, when, 

 to my amazement, out fluttered a small 

 bird, which up to that time had crouched 

 concealed in the bottom of the nest. I 

 pursued the youngster, and upon taking 

 it up in my hand found it to be a nestling 

 Goldfinch, almost fully fledged but yet 

 unable to fly. Carrying it back, I exam- 

 ined the interior of the nest, and found it 

 in the same filthy condition as the exte- 

 rior. Placing the youngster in it, I looked 

 about for more of his kind, but none were 

 to be seen. Only the one bird had left the 

 nest and no others were found in the 

 vicinity. The one parent bird staid nearby 

 all the while chirping and scolding, but 

 the other was nowhere to be seen. Late 

 that evening, while passing the site on 

 my way home, the nestling was perched 

 upon the edge of the nest, while the parent 

 sat on a thistle nearby, chirping softly. 

 Early the following morning I visited the 

 spot with the intention of banding and 

 photographing the young, but alas! it 

 was gone. Neither parent nor young was 

 found, and, although no sign of violence 

 was in evidence, I cannot help but think 

 that some mishap befell the doubtless 

 semi-orphan of a late summer's hatching. 

 — Delos E. Culver, Philadelphia, Pa. 



A Broken Wing and a Friendship 



Letters received from time to time have 

 furnished the data upon which the follow- 

 ing account is based. 



In the spring of 1908, a female Robin 



