THE SONG OF THE RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET. 
By Dr. Morris Gipss. 
‘‘A bird's song is the most beautiful music 
in the world.” These are the words of my 
friend, Stewart White, and he echoes the sen- 
timent at least of all refined lovers ot Nature. 
It is not necessary that a person should be an 
ornithologist in order that one may appreciate 
the melody from Nature’s conservatory. On 
the contrary, it happens lamentably often that 
individuals who aspire to a position of scienti- 
fic fame as writers on the subject of birds, are 
sadly deficient in the comprehension of many 
points of interest alike pleasurable to the es- 
thete and utilitarian. Comprehensively, then, 
the songs of birds are to be studied by orni- 
thologists and lovers of harmony in the wood- 
lands and fields, and to those having cultivated 
the ear much pleasure is derived from observa- 
tion and comparison of the various notes, even 
where the several performers are not identified. 
There is no study more pleasing to the 
stroller in our groves than to become ac- 
quainted with the voices of our feathered 
friends, not only in song, but in all moods and 
passions, represented by call notes indicative 
of love, excitement and fear. These call notes, 
as well as the songs, should be considered not 
only from the standpoint of musical superiority, 
but as well from the sentimentality emanating, 
as must result from associations with these 
delicate yet vivacious dwellers of our forests 
and fields. I can readily conceive that. associ- 
ations of a tender, refining nature, may be ab- 
sent in some persons, but to the observer, the 
one who enjoys the many pleasures of out-door 
life, the songs of birds are ever a fruitful source 
of pleasing retrospection of agreeable days in 
the woodland. 
One of the earliest songsters of merit which 
greet us in the latitude of New York City and 
well west on the parallel is the ruby-crowned 
kinglet. Coming as it does about April 20, 
often earlier, the medley of joyous notes are 
doubly welcome, and when heard on a cold, 
disagreeable day, the song seems to inspire 
one with hope in waiting for warmer days and 
fairer skies. 
The song of this dainty, sprightly-winged 
gem, is a sweet warble of great penetration, 
but it is still in no way coarse or stridulous in 
any of its notes, and so ecstatic is the clear, 
rippling melody, that one has to pause and 
with visible anxiety listen to its repetition, ifhe 
be a lover of music and vivacious, changeable 
warblings. Never a break or flaw in the song 
of this bird, and the first note of morning is as. 
clear and full as the last at sunset. 
These true musicians of Nature have no need 
of practice to fit their voices for a woodland 
concert, and, even when all sing in chorus, 
there is not a false note uttered, though there 
may be twenty species in this choir of varied 
singers. 
The ear of the true musician is from neces-- 
sity attracted by the quavering, varied netes,. 
as often as repeated by this sweet singer, and 
to my mind it takes a high rank for excellence 
among our many fine singing birds. The 
notes, as with most birds, are difficult to de- 
scribe, but can be expressed with the pen, so 
that one familiar with the refined song can 
recognize it at a glance, even from this poor 
imitation. It begins with a few low, half-artic- 
ulate notes, soft and melodious, rises to quite a 
pitch, and ends with a trembling, exquisitely- 
modulated warbling. It is unlike the song of 
any other bird of my acquaintance, and no- 
comparison that the writer can draw could pro- 
perly furnish a description of this elegant song-- 
ster’s ditty. In our inefficient way we may de- 
scribe the notes on paper, trusting for leniency 
on the part of readers, and assuring those who. 
are better educated in bird melodies than I that 
the interpretation is my best effort. The re- 
frain runs in this wise: Choz chot choi—qut 
gui gui—cheedledee chreedledee chreedledee. 
The notes begin and end abruptly, and often, 
when half finished, the song stops, and the 
active fellow gives voice to a few energetic 
staccato call notes. ° 
The ruby-crown does not stop with us, being” 
merely a transient in my State, and passing far 
to the north to nest. Of its nesting habits but 
very little is known, although the birds are 
abundant in their vernal and autumnal migra- 
tions. 
