The Yellowthroats 



Taken in Oregon 



Photo by H. T. Bohlman and W. L. Finley 

 AN ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION 



T. angustifolia) dwell. And for every cattail patch there is a pair of 

 Yellowthroats — more, if there is room. 



Given a cattail or tule patch as an assured base of operations, 

 Geothlypis will roam about adventurously enough. Rank grass, coarse 

 herbage, stunted bushes — these and the promise of insects will lure him 

 away several hundred yards, but always he sings, "My heart's in the 

 cattails." Yellowthroat is a restless, active, little body, and he is 

 among the first to come forward when you enter the swamp. His method 

 is hide-and-seek and the game would all be his, if he did not reveal his 

 presence from time to time by a harsh accusing note, a sort of Polish, 

 consonantal explosion, wzschthub, — a sound not unlike that made by a 

 guitar string when struck above the stop. If you attempt to follow 

 the bird, the game ends in disappointment. But if the observer pauses, 

 curiosity gets the better of the bird, and he is soon seen peering out from 

 a neighboring bush, roguery only half hidden by his highwayman's mask. 



The female, having no mask, keeps to the background, but she is 

 not less interested than her mate in the progress of events. When the 

 scout returns to report, there is often a curious outbreak of discussion, 

 in which the husband, as like as not, finds it necessary to defend his 

 opinion with a perfect torrent of wzschthubs. 



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