Notes from Field and Study 



373 



roasting-pan was a little, old, black affair, 

 which her friend had filled with water and 

 placed under a tree where any hot bird 

 might take a cool bath. In the pan was 

 an Oriole splashing about, a Cardinal 

 perched on the edge was waiting his turn, 

 and a Catbird on the other side was 

 inquisitively eyeing them both. 



Had an artist been painting the picture, 

 she said, he would most likely have 

 arranged the gray Catbird to come 

 between the orange-colored Oriole, and 

 the scarlet Cardinal; but nature had 

 stained the wet orange feathers of the 

 Oriole red, brightened them with a flash 

 of sunlight, and produced a pan of flam- 

 ing hot birds. — Lucy B. Stone, Columbus, 

 Ohio. 



Notes on the Robin 



A pair of Robins in May, this year, 

 nested on my bedroom window-sill. The 

 first egg lay uncovered night and day for 

 four full days, and cool ones. Three of 

 four hatched. The first bird came out of 

 shell on Sunday, May 25. At 1 p.m., 

 that day, I saw all four eggs unbroken. 

 About 3 p.m., I heard the female leave 

 the nest 'clucking,' and found the young- 

 ster. At 4 p.m., that is not more than 

 three hours at most after emerging from 

 the shell, I saw the young bird raise its 

 head and open its mouth upon hearing the 

 mother-cluck of the female. — P. M. 

 Foshay, Montclair, N. J. 



A Tanager in Washington County, 

 Maine 



On the afternoon of May 21, my brother 

 saw a Scarlet Tanager in an apple tree 

 near the house. 



We watched it through the field-glass 

 for a time, gradually approaching the 

 trees until we could see it perfectly with- 

 out the glass. It flew from one to another 

 of the apple boughs and once or twice into 

 another tree, but did not seem to be at all 

 frightened, as it remained in the trees near 

 us until we went away. Next morning it 

 was in my cousin's apple trees, and all 

 during that day it remained about the 



neighboring houses. This was the first 

 time that any of us had seen this beautiful 

 bird, and we have all been watching for it 

 since, hoping that it had a mate and 

 would nest here; but it has evidently gone 

 elsehwere. — -Winifred Holway Palmer, 

 Machias, Maine. 



A Friendly Chickadee 



Although I had fed the Chickadees in 

 winter for several years, none of them were 

 tame enough to feed from the hand until 

 the spring of 1906. A pair were nesting in 

 one of my bird-boxes, and, as I was 

 standing near the nest, one of the birds 

 came toward me. I threw a piece of nut 

 to it, which it picked up and ate. Then 

 I held a piece on my finger-tips, and it 

 came almost without hesitation and car- 

 ried it off; this was repeated several times. 

 Two days later he would perch on my 

 finger and take a nut from between my 

 teeth, or would sit on a branch and let me 

 touch him while he was eating a nut. 

 'Chickadee' was a perfect gentleman; he 

 would always give his mate the first piece 

 of nut and then come to me for another 

 for himself. I tried several times to get 

 her to feed from my hand, but she would 

 not come near, until the day the young 

 left the nest, when, after a good deal of 

 coaxing, she came several times. 



The nest was built of green moss, lined 

 with soft cow-hair. I looked at it one day, 

 after I was sure it must contain eggs, and 

 found the sides of the nest torn to pieces 

 and no sign of eggs; nor were the birds in 

 sight. My thought directly was that some- 

 thing had destroyed the eggs. I began to 

 examine the nesting material, when I was 

 surprised to find nine eggs, about two 

 inches under the surface. On later observa- 

 tion, I decided that this must be female's 

 way of protecting her eggs when she was 

 away. Thirteen eggs were laid in this nest, 

 three layers deep, which was an unusual 

 number. Though they were hatched suc- 

 cessfully, only three young left the nest 

 alive. It had rained for about three days, 

 and old 'Chickadee' came to me fre- 

 quently, looking very small and miserable 



