The Arizona Hooded Oriole 



bashful cousin, the Bullock Oriole. Indeed, our modest hero fairly 

 skulks in the shadow cast by his more brilliant but not more beautiful 

 kinsman. The writer once camped for a month under a tree which 

 eventually cradled nests of both these species. Yet in that time I never 

 heard a note which did not upon investigation trace to bullocki, nor see 

 a distinctive movement of nelsoni, save of the female at her nest. In view 

 of this experience, I mistrust some of the observations already in print, 

 and offer meager notes of my own with the utmost diffidence. The 

 biographer of Icterus cucullatus nelsoni is still in training. 



The Arizona Hooded Oriole begins to arrive in California late in 

 March. I say "begins to arrive" because I think it altogether probable 

 that there are two streams or stocks of migrants, one arriving early and 

 nesting in April and July, the other nesting only once, in late May or 

 early June. Santa Barbara seems to be the usual limit of northern 

 migration; but I once saw a pair east of Paso Robles (April 22, 1912); 

 and Bendire gives it 1 , upon what authority I do not know, from Auburn, 

 in Placer County. Late September, or earliest October, witnesses the 

 departure of this species from the State. 



Although coming of a family famous for tuneful good cheer, the 

 Arizona Hooded Oriole gives a poor account of himself as a songster. 

 This does not seem to be so much for lack of ability as for lack of impulse. 

 He is not of the noisy kind. When he does condescend to sing, it will be 

 briefly, at daybreak or thereabouts. His vocal efforts are exceedingly 

 variable both as to length and quality, now a weak rasping phrase, now a 

 succession of sputtering squeaks, half musical and half wooden, and now 

 a wild medley wherein are imbedded notes of a liquid purity. At its 

 best it reminds one, just distantly, of Bobolink's. Tsweetsee burr ho 

 wick divoer, rendered in sprightly fashion, will give one a notion of its 

 dashing inconsistency. But these singing phrases are exceedingly rare. 

 And lest I be thought to exaggerate through lack of opportunity to observe, 

 I may say that a pair of these birds has nested regularly in the yard of my 

 next door neighbor since we came to California. The nest can be found 

 at the appropriate season whenever we set out to look for it ; yet so silent, 

 so secretive, so utterly extra-mundane are the birds, we could forget their 

 existence, were it not for an occasional chirp (or, more exactly, chweet) 

 which is at least unmistakably Icterine. 



This very day (July 16, 1917), being reminded, I step over into 

 Neighbor Hoover's yard and search the nearest sycamore carefully. The 

 tree is in high leaf, and the foliage fairly dense. Ah, there it is, nearly 

 concealed in the drooping tip of one of the outermost branches, some 

 twenty feet above the ground. By the help of some ladies (over-solicitous 



'Life Histories, Vol. I., p. 475. 1895. 



9 1 



