CAPE MAY WARBLER 131 



other times, we find them among our orchards, even coming into towns 

 where they occupy themselves catching insects among the foliage and 

 about the blossoms of all kinds of fruit and shade trees." 



Brewster 4 states that about Cambridge the Cape May is "one of 

 the very rarest of Warblers which visit us with any degree of regular- 

 ity, especially if we also consider ( 1 ) that it is one of the most strik- 

 ingly colored and easily identified of them all; (2) that it is a rather 

 loud and very persistent singer; and (3) that, when with us, it is given 

 to frequenting isolated trees near houses." 



The last-named habit is confirmed by Gerald Thayer's observa- 

 tions at Scarborough, in the lower Hudson Valley, where he writes 

 that migrant Cape Mays "haunted a few big Norway spruces on our 

 home lawn for two or three days, acting about like Blackburnians, 

 but sticking strangely close to one or two special trees." 



We know comparatively little about the Cape May on its nesting 

 grounds. Maynard 8 writes that in northwestern Maine "they lived 

 in the tops of the high coniferous trees." It was in this region, in 

 1871, that H. B. Bailey first found a nest, which was, however, des- 

 troyed before the set was completed, and J. W. Banks, as recorded by 

 Chamberlain 1 , appears to have first secured the Cape May's nest and 

 eggs. 



Mr. Chamberlain 1 writes, "The birds seen at Edmundton [New 

 Brunswick] were invariably on the topmost branches of the tallest 

 evergreens (usually spruces) growing in the neighborhood. * * * 

 As the birds were constantly singing, their general whereabouts was 

 easily discovered, but no small amount of patient searching was 

 required to catch sight of them." Subsequently, however, as quoted 

 beyond, the bird was found to nest in a low cedar. 



The reported breeding of this species in Jamaica and San 

 Domingo remains unconfirmed. 



Song. — "Two, at least, of the Cape May's songs, as I heard them 

 freely uttered by three or four migrant males on the east bank of the 

 Hudson River in the spring of 1900, are of a thin and penetrating tone, 

 much like the Black and White Warbler's. Nor does the resemblance 

 stop there: the whole utterance, in tone, phrasing, and accentuation, 

 strongly suggests the Black and White's shorter song; and in their 

 most kindred variations the two might be hard to distinguish. Hence 

 the rule, if you hear a queer-sounding Black and White, in spring, 

 or in the North Woods, by all means look him up. On the other 

 hand, the Cape May's singing is near akin to the Blackpoll's, — very 

 near to some forms of it. But the notes are shorter, a little louder, less 



