BIRDS OF THE CAMBRIDGE REGION. 



29 



Chimney Swift. Heard twittering over Prescott Street, at the corner of 

 Dana and Harvard Streets, and over Harvard Street east of Inman Street. 



Baltimore Oriole. No birds seen or heard, but a fresh-looking nest noted 

 in an elm near the corner of Harvard and Hancock Streets. 



Warbling Vireo. A male heard singing at the corner of Dana and Har- 

 vard Streets, another at the corner of Inman and Harvard Streets, and a third 

 at the corner of Fayette and Cambridge Streets. 



Yellow Warbler. Two birds seen on Prescott Street, two males heard 

 singing near the corner of Dana and Harvard Streets, a third heard on Han- 

 cock Street, a fourth at the corner of Fayette and Cambridge Streets, and a 

 fifth at the corner of Baldwin and Cambridge Streets. 



Redstart. A male singing on Prescott Street, another on Maple Street, 

 a third at the corner of Harvard and Hancock Streets. 



Robin. Eight birds in fully mature plumage seen on Dana, Harvard, 

 Maple and Hancock Streets, and on Broadway. 



Although it would be idle to claim that all the species which frequented the 

 Dana Hill district in the early summer of 1901 are named in this list, it prob- 

 ably includes most of them. We found House Sparrows abundant everywhere, 

 of course, while east of Inman Street they were so numerous that the din of 

 their shrill voices was at times almost deafening. 



Back Bay Basin. 



Within the memory of persons still living Boston was confined to what was 

 essentially a hilly island. Indeed its only original connection with the mainland 

 was that afforded by Dorchester Neck, a narrow strip of land, so low as to be 

 sometimes flooded by exceptionally high tides. To the north and west, in the 

 direction of Cambridge and Brookline, stretched the Back Bay, a broad and beau- 

 tiful sheet of water, shallow for the most part, and bordered in places by salt 

 marshes. Here the Boston sportsmen of fifty or sixty years ago enjoyed excellent 

 shooting, for the Bay was then frequented by a great number and variety of water- 

 fowl and waders. Not long afterward the city began to overspread its natural 

 limits and to extend westward, converting water into land. By 1870 nearly all 

 those portions of the Bay lying towards Brookline and Roxbury had been filled. 

 Its only remaining portion, that separating Boston from Cambridge, into which 

 Charles River empties just below Brookline Bridge, has been since considerably 

 reduced in area by filling, and its once gracefully curving shore lines have been 



