May, 1917 BIRDS OF THE HUMID COAST 97 



sical hoit, whoitc, tra-la-la-la-ree, on opposite sides of the green acre at one 

 time, one of them perched on the tip of a stake beside me quite unafraid, when 

 a Robin spied a prowling cat and made such an outcry that, much to my disap- 

 pointment the concert stopped abruptly. Before family cares became too en- 

 grossing, the lovely Thrush songs might be heard at almost any time of day, 

 sung perhaps within hearing of happy brown mothers brooding their nests in 

 the bordering groves. While the sweet song seemed best suited to the open 

 clearings and fragrant fern fields, at its deepest moments — in the quiet evening 

 hours and at the nest — it went well with the richly shadowed hemlocks, with the 

 sound of the wind through the spruces, and the cool strong air from over the 

 sea. 



One of the trails through the fern fields led to a fence where Goldilocks 

 went mornings for a pail of milk that hung from a rail, went protected by her 

 two dogs, for across the fence down a dark trail through the forest a black 

 bear had gone not long before — had gone ambling by the Pileated's stub on 

 through the dark woods to a small w T ood garden where pink Canterbury bells 

 nearly twice a bear's height bordered the trail, and then up across a monster 

 fallen log that blocked the way and was easier to surmount with four feet than 

 two — fearsome trail — no wonder the little milk maid's heart beat hard and she 

 kept her protectors close at hand ! 



Just beyond the fence where the milk pail hung above the bracken, stood 

 one of the white mottled alders with its multiplicity of slender branches and 

 cocoon-like cushions of greenish brown moss then being shipped out in bales to 

 California florists. The light green leafy alder top was one of the favorite 

 hunting grounds of a "Western Flycatcher, but only occasional glimpses could 

 be caught of twitching shoulders or other fragmentary parts of avian anatomy 

 as he flitted about in the thick sunny tree top. Once I did get a really good 

 view of his olivaceous back as he sat on a branch singing a weak disjointed 

 song that after all was rather pleasing and was apparently eminently satisfac- 

 tory to himself. See-wick-ee-wick-ee, see-ivick-ee-ivick, it ran, varied by e-pa- 

 seb, pa-sub, a jerk of the tail following the terminal seb or sub. After singing 

 his song over and over till partly perhaps from its association with the sunny 

 tree top, it began to sound very sweet in my ears, he fell back on his familiar 

 call of see-wick, willingly answering my poor imitations of his notes for a time, 

 and then flying on into the alders and conifers by the brook, where he was lost 

 sight of in the dense thicket. 



Another small Flycatcher, presumably trailli, was seen several times on a 

 small dead tree in the middle of a neighboring clearing with the sun shining 

 full on his white breast, contentedly calling pre-ep' -pah-deer, pre-ep'-ah-deer, 

 his notes punctuated by jerks of the tail. 



In the top of a young hemlock near our fence line, a Seattle Wren often 

 sang a bright clear musical song, or rather a variety of songs, for his flexible 

 voice made variety easy. The general form and rhythm sometimes suggested 

 the pill-a-will of the black Towhee, but the wrennish burr and quality were 

 characteristic. Sometimes it was bur'r'r will-ahwill, or bur'r'r willahivillahwill ; 

 again pur WW-will, will, will, will, will, will, pur' r'r -will, will, will, will, will, 

 will; or tu-ivee' wata, wata, ivata. Once the Wren gave a single short note and 

 then four notes strikingly loud and clear; and again four repetitions of the 

 same note with the fifth note dropped, Jie-he-he-he ha-ha-ha-hup. 



From the fence at the foot of our fern field a trail led through the bracken 



