The Cassin Purple Finch 



been taken at San Jose (C. Barlow, Condor, II., 1900, p. 132) and Los Angeles (H. 

 Swarth, Condor, III., 1901, p. 66). 



Authorities. — Coues, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1866, p. 80; Cooper, J. G., 

 Orn. Calif., 1870, pp. 155-156 (voice); Townsend, Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., vol. x., 1887, p. 

 215 (on Mt. Shasta); Ray, Auk, vol. xx., 1903, p. 187 (nesting at Lake Tahoe) ; Grinnell, 

 Univ. Calif. Publ. Zool., 5, 1908, pp. 89-90 (habits and nesting in San Bernardino Mts.). 



ALTHOUGH possibly quite unknown to the stay-at-home element 

 of our populous coastal cities, the Cassin Purple Finch is, nevertheless, 

 among the best known and numerically most important birds of the State, 

 for he it is who is the authentic hillsman, the multitudinous mountaineer, 

 the genius loci of Sierra pine forests and of all timberline resorts. Roughly 

 speaking, cassini is the dry weather bird, the Eastsider, the "arid Transi- 

 tion" species, while purpurens is the Westsider, the humid Transition 

 form. Although the ranges of the two species inosculate according to a 

 very complex pattern traceable along the western slopes of the Sierras and 

 the southern ranges, they do not appreciably overlap. The ranges of 

 C. cassini and C. mexicanus, likewise, are mutually exclusive, by reason of 

 the greater elevation of the former; whereas the ranges of purpureus and 

 mexicanus have a wide coincidence. 



It is the camper-out of the high Sierras who sees the Cassin Purple 

 Finch at his best. The males are filling the forest with song throughout 

 the months of June and July; and the females are pouting, or else waiting 

 upon pouting children, throughout July and August. The word "pout- 

 ing" is advisedly chosen, for of all lady birds of my experience, the female 

 Cassin is, I believe, the least to be commended either for modesty or for 

 its presumed opposite, that neo-feminine virtue of self-reliance. In the 

 early days of courtship she may, indeed, be coy enough — the seasonal 

 promptings of nature are usually of tardier appearance in the female, but 

 once her consent is given, the female Cassin becomes either a wanton or a 

 clinging vine — or both. No sound is commoner, therefore, in the pine 

 forests of the upper levels than the coaxing note, oree-eh oree-eh, of the 

 female Cassin Purple Finch. It is delivered as often as not with quivering 

 wings, and unmistakably invites the attentions of the male, sometimes to 

 the visible embarrassment of that overworked, and consequently inatten- 

 tive, individual. Perhaps it is fair to call this oreeh a love note, but it is 

 delivered with the simpering insistence of a spoiled child. Ordered favors 

 come tardily, and the wells of spontaneity are easily troubled. 



When the mating season proper is over, and there are eggs to be 

 incubated, she teases her husband for food, oree-eh, oree-eh. He is doing 

 the best he can, poor soul! but she vexes him with reminders. "Yes, yes, 

 dear. Don't you see I'm doing the best I can? Oh, anon!" Perhaps we 

 do the lady an injustice, but we have seen what we have seen. 



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