36 THE AUDUBON BULLETIN 



the shelf, flinging himself directly at any chickadee who may be in the 

 neighborhood — frequently curving off after a second one with his bit of nut 

 still in his bill. When he comes to the shelf and there are no chickadees 

 about, his manner is entirely different. He really acts like a contented little 

 chick, and is most deliberate. But the chief joy of his existence appears to 

 be teasing chickadees. 



This winter, also, for the first time in all these years, we have brown 

 creepers as guests for our food shelf. Strictly speaking they do not come 

 to the shelf, but carefully investigate the stalk of trumpet-creeper vine 

 where the nuthatch is very fond of storing choice bits. Occasionally the 

 creeper will alight on the porch floor, and he looks so funny in that un- 

 natural position — like an animated little rug, or bird-skin — he flattens him- 

 self out so. This very noon we saw him on the shelf for the first time. He 

 seemed much surprised to have come upon the source of supply and took a 

 bit of nut in his bill, but appeared to find it impossible to swallow it until 

 he flitted to the trumpet-vine stalk where he seemed to' consider himself in a 

 natural position, and swallowed it with great satisfaction. A blue- jay 

 comes to the shelf, too. He rarely fails to make sure that the "coast is quite 

 clear" by shouting lustily, first from a cedar tree, some little distance from 

 the house, gradually coming nearer, in the sumach, and at last, when no one 

 has appeared at the windows, softly and most quietly and lightly balancing 

 himself upon the shelf. Downies come to our suet sacks also. 



Muriel Lam pert. 



Chicago Area 



Almost every winter presents us with something of exceptional interest 

 in bird life, some rare northern visitors flooding our country in unusual 

 numbers. One year it may be the fierce Goshawks, another Crossbills or 

 Redpolls and so on down the list. The present season, 1919-20 will be 

 long remembered for its great flight of Bohemian Waxwings, one of the 

 most aristocratic and beautiful of birds. Few birds excel this stranger 

 from the north in beauty with its richly colored coat of exquisite texture, 

 long crest and scarlet wax-like wing tips. 



An unusual flight of these birds was observed by Mr. Colin Sanborn 

 and the writer on Nov. 30th, 1919, five miles north of Waukegan, Illinois, 

 on the Waukegan Flats, a region justly famous for its winter birds. The 

 wind was blowing a gale from the northwest, with snow squalls, the first 

 day of real winter weather, but our hopes ran high as waxwings had been 

 reported a day or two before. Nor were we disappointed, for soon after 

 daylight they appeared, flock after flock of them, whirling southward be- 

 fore the wind, following the same general course, a couple of hundred 

 yards from the Lake Michigan shore line. Along towards ten o'clock 

 some of the flocks would stop a few minutes to feed, swarming into some 

 small dead tree till it was full to overflowing with feathered beauties, 

 while hungry members of the flock fed on the berries of nearby junipers. 

 These flocks were the very spirit of restlessness, as is so often the case 

 with winter birds on a blustery day, in marked contrast to their behavior 

 on other occasions. 



One large flock swarmed down on to a stretch of bare ice, the last no 

 sooner arriving till the first were up and on their way. Altogether, on 



