126 University of Calif ornia Publications in Zoology [Vol. 30 



those records were specifically discredited. The only other published 

 accounts bearing upon this subject that I have seen are by Bishop 

 (1900, p. 85), who describes an unfinished nest found in White Pass; 

 and by Osgood (1904, p. 75), who casually mentions "several" nests 

 found at Ibanina Bay, Alaska Peninsula, the latter part of June, 

 containing from four to six eggs each. 



I, myself, had been twice before on the nesting grounds of the 

 golden-crowned sparrow, and the fact that I had failed to find nests 

 then spurred me on to renewed efforts on this third opportunity. In 

 British Columbia this bird is a summer visitant at high altitudes, nest- 

 ing above the limit of upright timber. In the Atlin region it is so 

 closely restricted to the heights that I did not see even a migrant in 

 the lowlands. 



On May 29 we made our first climb above timber line, to the top of 

 Monarch Mountain, some 4500 feet altitude, about three miles south 

 of Atlin. The golden-crowned sparrows had arrived and were singing 

 from the tops of the balsam thickets, but no nest building was detected. 

 This mountain top, as it proved, was peculiarly adapted to the needs 

 of this species. At least there were more of the birds here within a 

 relatively limited area than we saw anywhere else. Long stretches of 

 rolling hilltops, grass-covered for the most part, were interspersed with 

 scattered thickets of prostrate or stunted balsam, and with larger areas 

 of trailing birch. This birch was in most places not over knee high 

 and easily walked over. Little lakelets occupied some of the hollows, 

 and from them small streams flowed part way down the mountain. 

 Lakes and streams both were almost or entirely dry before the summer 

 was over. ^ 



On June 19 we returned to this same summit, to make a thorough 

 search for nests. A general notion that these would be in the balsams, 

 as the most effective cover in sight, led us first to direct our attention 

 to these thickets, the more so as they formed the singing perches of the 

 male birds. Half an hour's search brought no results other than the 

 discovery of old robin nests, so the balsams were abandoned for the 

 time. A little later, as I was traversing a dry, open ridge, ploughing 

 through a mat of birch, a sparrow darted out some eight or ten feet 

 away, not to fly, but to scuttle, mouse-like, along the ground under 

 the sparse, sprawling branches. A brief search disclosed the nest (see 

 pi. 7, fig. 6) . A ledge of rock protruded a few inches from the ground 

 in the center of the thicket, and the nest was sunk against this shelter, 

 fairly well concealed by the vegetation above. There were five eggs. 



