The Ash-throated Flycatcher 
Distribution in California. —Common summer resident in Lower and Upper 
Sonoran life zones, save in the humid coastal strip and the northern tier of counties. 
Invades Transitional areas as the summer advances. Casual in winter in the Imperial 
Valley. Rare or casual on the Islands during migrations. 
Authorities.—Ganibel ( Myiobius c-rinitus ), Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., vol. 
111., 1847, p. 157 (Monterey; Santa Barbara); Bend-ire, Life Hist. N. Am. Birds, vol. 
11., 1895, p. 266, pi. 2, fig. 3 (eggs); Nelson, Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., vol. xvii., 1904, 
p. 33 (monogr.); Van Rossem, Condor, vol. xiii., 1911, p. 132 (Imperial Valley; winter); 
Beal, U. S. Dept. Agric., Biol. Surv. Bull., no. 44, 1912, p. 28 (food). 
THE ASH-THROATED FLYCATCHER is two birds—or, rather, 
two birds and a voice. The voice might belong to a third bird, or it 
might be altogether discarnate, for all one learns of its authorship and 
connections—at first. One of the birds migrates, openly, shamelessly, 
and abundantly—none more common. The other of him, or her (the 
cleavage does not occur along the line of sex difference), having arrived 
in the neighborhood of the spot called home, is henceforth a furtive 
creature, moving secretly through the treetops, or keeping to the under¬ 
shade of the grove, and bearing upon his (or her) conscience a tremendous 
load, viz., the guilty knowledge of that precise spot called a nest. Not 
wild horses shall draw the secret forth, nor may the sweet influences of 
heaven operate to rid the guilty mind of its load. 
The voice belongs altogether to the latter bird—or to none. It 
is chiefly a voice of suspicion,—harsh, elusive, accusing. Its notes 
are rich in 'Vs.” In fact r is about the only predictable quality of 
the double tone as it shall issue: Queerp — too-weerp — lookateer; though 
once I heard a bird, carefully marked beyond possibility of error,— 
a bird which said tu'hick or too'vick, in perfect Meadowlark fashion. 
Sometimes the r is a mere chirp or guttural croak, an intermittent escape 
of r-steam from a seething chestful of superheated rrr’s. If one does 
catch sight of the bird, standing almost motionless in the shadow, he 
may witness the transformation wrought by the effort of speech. The 
foreparts of the bird are jerked irresistibly forward. The sound spills 
out incontinently— kuteerp —and the tankard rights itself again by a 
compensatory bob of wings and tail. The bird seems to be actuated 
by an unseen wire; and if the observer catches the rhythm, he may play 
at pulling the wire himself. 
The bird of migration is only shameless because there are so many 
of him that he cannot hide. Or at least he cannot both hide and rustle 
breakfast. First birds arrive, southerly, during the last week in April. 
The breeding contingent immediately takes to cover in the sycamores 
and live oaks of the canyon bottoms and mesas, thenceforth to play 
ventriloquist or Raffles. But their fellows, intent on a more northerly 
