The Varied Thrushes 
per tree or a sterile eucalyptus, instead of the darkling depths of an 
authentic fir. 
The Varied Thrush is known by a variety of names, none more 
persistent or fitting than that of “Winter Robin." It is a Robin in size, 
prevailing color, and general make-up; and it appears in the lowlands 
in large numbers only in the winter time, when the deep snows have 
driven it out of the hills. The Thrush is much more shy than the Robin, 
and although it moves about in straggling companies, and does not 
shun city parks, it keeps more to cover. It also feeds largely upon the 
ground, and when startled by a passer-by it flutters up sharply into the 
trees with a wing-sound whose quality may soon be recognized as dis¬ 
tinctive. At such times the bird makes off through the branches with 
a low chuck, or tsook, or else tries the air by low notes which are like 
the song, only very much more subdued. This is manifestly an attempt 
to keep in touch with companions, while at the same time attracting 
as little hostile attention as possible. This note is, therefore, barely 
audible, and has very little musical quality, aarue, or Mir. 
Of course the bulk of our winter population is furnished by Alaskan 
migrants, for the few who summer in the northwestern counties would 
scarcely be noticed in the myriad canyons of southern California; and 
the occupation of the Southland is so complete that a few spill over 
upon the Channel Islands. For the most part the October migrations 
occur silently and unnoticed; but Mr. Mailliard records, from Marin 
County, an instance 1 in which returning migrants—to the aggregate 
of tens of thousands, a regular bird wave, were seen. Upon arrival 
in the State these Thrushes fall at once upon the dropped acorns, and 
Beal found that mast constituted 76% of the bird’s food in November. 
This fondness for acorns is quite an unusual trait in the Thrush family 
and deserves further study. One instance 3 is on record where a bird 
lost its life because of a stout acorn shell which became so firmly wedged 
over its upper mandible that it could not be pried off. Like pussy with 
her head in the cream-pitcher, the poor bird had dashed its brains out 
in a frantic effort to escape. 
Another Thrush, more resourceful in the presence of danger, did effect 
a sensational escape. Aly father, the late Rev. William Edwy Dawson, 
tells the story: “The other day I surprised a Varied Thrush in the 
chicken yard. In great alarm the bird flew round and round the chicken- 
wire enclosure looking for an exit. Finding none, and forgetting in its 
haste the partly uncovered space overhead where it must have entered, 
the bird took the width of the yard for a running or rather flying start, 
and darted straight for an aperture on the other side. These holes are 
1 "Condor,” Vol. X., p. 118. 
2 "Condor,” Vol. X., p. 91. 
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