55 



THE YELLOW RED-POLL WOOD- WARBLER. 



4- Sylvicola petechia, Lath. 



PLATE XC— Males and Young. 



I most willingly acknowledge the error under which I laboured many 

 years, in believing that this species and the Sylvia palmarum of Bonaparte, 

 are distinct from each other. To the sound judgment of my good friend 

 John Bachman, I am indebted for convincing me that the figure given by 

 the Prince of Musignano is that of our present bird, at a different period of 

 life, and therefore with different plumage. While at Charleston, in the 

 winter and spring of 1833—4, I became convinced of my error, after examin- 

 ing a great number of specimens, in different states of plumage. All these 

 individuals had the same habits, and uttered the same notes. I may here 

 remark, that the true Sylvia palmarum has not yet been met with in the 

 United States. 



The Yellow Red-poll Warbler is extremely abundant in the Southern 

 States, from the beginning of November to the first of April, when it 

 migrates northward. It is one of the most common birds in the Floridas 

 during winter, especially along the coasts, where they are fond of the 

 orchards and natural woods of orange trees. In Georgia and South Carolina, 

 they are also very abundant, and are to be seen gambolling, in company with 

 the Yellow-rumped Warbler, on the trees that ornament the streets of the 

 cities and villages, or those of the planter's yard. They approach the piazzas 

 and enter the gardens, in search of insects, on which they feed principally on 

 the wing, now and then securing some by moving slowly along the branches. 

 It never removes from one spot to another, without uttering a sharp twit, 

 and vibrating its tail in the manner of the Wagtails of Europe, though less 

 frequently. I never saw this species in Pennsylvania in summer, although 

 occasionally in the month of May it is to be seen for a few days. It is very 

 rare in Maine; but I found it abundant in Newfoundland and Labrador, 

 where I seldom passed a day without searching for its nest, although I am 

 sorry to say, in vain. In the month of August the old birds were feeding 

 their young all around us, and preparing to return to milder winter quarters. 



Nothing can be more gladdening to the traveller, when passing through 

 the uninhabited woods of East Florida, than the wild orange groves which 

 he sometimes meets with. As I approached them, the rich perfume of the 



