The Ruby-crowned, Kinglets 
spot where stood some solitary tree or expectant sylvan company. Along 
the river bank all was still. There were no signs of spring, save for the 
modest springing violet and the pious buckeye, shaking its late-prisoned 
fronds to the morning air, and tardily setting in order its manifold array 
of Easter candles. The 
oak trees were gray and 
hushed, and the swamp 
elms held their peace 
until the fortunes of the 
morning should be 
decided. Suddenly 
from down the river 
path there came a tiny 
burst of angel music, 
the peerless song of the 
Ruby-crown. Pure, 
ethereal, without hint of 
earthly dross or sadness 
came those limpid well¬ 
ing notes, the sweetest 
and the gladdest ever 
sung—at least by those 
who have not suffered. 
It was not, indeed, the 
greeting of the earth to 
the risen Lord, but rather the annunciation of the glorious fact by heaven’s 
own appointed herald. 
And on another yesterday, in old Santa Barbara, as I was jogging 
along behind the old mare (before the ruthless automobile was de rigeur) 
a Ruby-crowned Kinglet flashed down upon the road which had been 
recently sprinkled, and began nibbling daintily at some unguessable 
morsel of insect life which he had spied. Moreover, the little rajah let 
us pass him within three feet; and, believe me, the gleam of his resplendent 
jewel, authentic Burmese, from its mud setting smote a chord of wonder. 
The little king was not at all aware of his condescension, nor of the 
hazard of crown jewels, but it did affect one queerly to see such a ruby 
flung down by the roadside. Have a care, little Gemcrest! Some urchin 
sparrow will be coveting your splendor. 
The Ruby-crowned Kinglet has something of the nervousness and 
vivacity of the typical wren. It moves restlessly from twig to twig, 
flirting its wings with a motion too quick for the eyes to follow, and 
frequently uttering a titter of alarm, chit-tit or chit-it-it. On occasions 
803 
Taken in Pasadena Photo by Dickey 
WESTERN RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET 
