The Phainopepla 
monopolize it, as in the case of nest-building. 
There is frequent change of shifts at the nest, so 
that the birds are likely to betray their secret to 
an attentive observer at any hour of the day. 
The young are hatched upon the fourteenth 
day after the deposition of the last egg; and they 
would look much like blackberries a little under¬ 
ripe, if their appearance were not relieved by 
generous tufts of long white down. The edges 
of the mouth are bright yellow, but the lining 
proper is flesh-colored. The parents do not feed 
by regurgitation; but berries are carefully crushed 
and perhaps invested with parental mucous before 
being fed. The fledglings look a good deal like 
their mother when they are ready to fly. Accord¬ 
ing to Mrs. Harriet Williams Myers, who has 
made a careful study of this species, the birds 
first leave the nest in about nineteen days. They 
do not, however, leave it for keeps, as most birds 
do, but will make it headquarters for a day or so, 
as though loth to sever home ties. The parental 
solicitude is expressed by many flutterings to 
and fro, or by elongation of the form with maxi¬ 
mum erection of the crest. The bird sways to and 
fro, or shifts position with an exaggerated swing¬ 
ing or flirting of the tail, and utters often and 
earnestly that sonorous mew, which is its only means of vocal relief. 
But not all Phainopepla parents are so solicitous; and I suppose the 
instance which I am about to narrate is largely responsible for my deep- 
seated distrust of the species. The birds in question had made a nest 
at a moderate elevation in a live oak tree which overshadows our front 
porch. (They were quite as welcome to nest elsewhere if they feared 
intrusion.) We discreetly noted three eggs, and were careful to make 
only gentle advances, and to consider the seclusion prized by sitting birds. 
At a time when the babies were about one-third grown, we arranged a 
little photographic sitting, but took care, in view of the parental hesita¬ 
tions, not to touch or to molest the little birds in any way. The parents, 
who were both visible on a distant telephone wire, showed considerable 
agitation, but they would not venture within eighty feet of the scene. 
We retired seasonably and completely, but the old birds never came back. 
The next day it rained, and the little ones died of exposure and starvation. 
Although sensible of my own culpability in connection with this 
Taken in the Ojai Photo by D. R. Dickey 
VOICES OF HUNGER AND PROTEST 
