The Brown Towhees 



coveted hour of slumber. The feud seemed implacable; and I witnessed 

 an attack an hour later, all to the accompaniment of admiring, or pro- 

 testing, squeaks. 



This pugnacity of the Brown Towhee has led to one strange length. 

 Other birds there are who will fight their shadows in the window panes — 

 Goldfinches, Linnets and Mockingbirds; but their passion is short-lived. 

 The Towhee adopts "shadow boxing" as a profession. It becomes a 

 religion, a something dearer-than-meat-and-drink, an obsession. The 

 occurrence is common enough, but the best report of it is, perhaps, that 

 given by Mr. Donald R. Dickey, 1 whose friend, General Penney, of 

 Nordhoff, was besieged by one of these pugilistic visitors. The trouble 

 in this instance began in the 

 late winter (of 1913-14) when 

 the mating season had scarce- 

 ly begun. "Perched on the 

 sill, the bird would eye his re- 

 flection, and then set sys- 

 tematically to work to kill 

 that supposed rival, with all 

 the ire and intolerance of a 

 rutting mouse. The tactics 

 varied somewhat, but on the 

 whole the bird firmly be- 

 lieved that victory lay in the 

 frequency of his attacks, 

 rather than in their violence, 

 so that the blows of his beak 

 rained on the pane with all 

 the persistence of water drip- 

 ping on a tin porch roof after 

 an Eastern thaw. Each blow 

 was, of course, met squarely 

 by the shadowed beak of his 

 opponent; each retreat was 

 mimicked by the shadow; 

 each unusually furious on- 

 slaught was countered in 

 equal force. Sometimes they 

 rested as though by mutual 

 consent — the bird and his 

 sparring partner — but pres- 

 ently SOme turn Of the bird's Taken in San Diego Photo by Donald R. Dickey 



"SOME OF THEIR NESTS— ARE MODELS OF BEAUTY" 



407 



1 "The Shadow Boxing of Pipilo," The Condor, Vol. XVIII., 1916, p. 9, 



