The Hermit Thrushes 
The introduction of pepper trees into southern California has put 
the birds in our debt, and has brought them a little more into public 
notice. At Los Colibris (and f speak of our home acre only because it is 
typical) when the pepper trees were in heavy bearing, we have had as 
many as forty Hermit Thrushes wintering at a time. Some of these, at 
least, return every year and I am quite sure from certain mannerisms 
that one bird came four years in succession. Arriving as they do about 
the 20th of October, they depend chiefly upon an insect diet for a few 
days, but when a nippy morning comes, a month or so later, they tackle 
the pepper berries, and rather awkwardly at first. It is evidently new 
business for some of them, and they make hard work of it. One bird 
that I particularly observed would fly up to a bunch, hover a moment in 
midair, snatch a berry, and return to a more secure position. This he 
did repeatedly, without once endeavoring to alight on the berry cyme 
itself, or trying to find a place where he might eat his fill unmolested. 
Another dashed up and fell to eating the berries as they lay strewn upon 
the ground. He fed very daintily, taking care in each instance to discard 
the red husk, but he seemed rather pleased than otherwise with my 
attention, for he hopped nearer and nearer until he stood within seven 
feet. He attended strictly to business though, and had eaten, I should 
say, 16 or 18 berries; whereupon, considering meditatively, and deciding 
that he had enough aboard for once, he flashed away. 
One of our garden faucets drips incessantly and this is the favorite 
drinking place of the Hermit. A bird will light on the faucet and, stoop¬ 
ing over, will pluck the drops one by one as they fall. One morning I 
saw five birds at a time either waiting their turn or else making suggestive 
dives at the fellow who seemed to be tarrying too long at the faucet. 
And it was ten to one the fellow who was having his “innings” defended 
himself with spirited snapping of his beak. 
Besides the frequent low chuck, or choop choop, with which the bird 
notes advance or intrusion, one hears a harsh murry of protest or alarm, 
the same with which the Sierran birds rebuke those who meddle with 
their nests. On several occasions, also, I have heard a sharp piercing 
key'ring note of alarm. One such I traced to a bird who was standing 
disconsolate and complaining, for no apparent reason, while her mate 
fed on the pepper berries near by. I recall having heard this sound, 
also, in the mountains at a time when the Thrush’s nest was threatened. 
But those sounds are of earth and forgettable. Not so the high requiem 
which is Heaven’s own. 
A Hermit Thrush’s Minute: Santa Barbara, Jan. 2, 1920. I had 
been gazing abstractedly out of the north window of my study. This 
placid brown ghost appeared on the ground just outside the wire fence 
