62 Vol. XX 



THE SALT MARSH YELLOWTHROATS OF SAN FRANCISCO 

 By GEORGE W. SCHUSSLER 



TO THOSE who go afield from San Francisco during the first glorious days 

 in early spring when the warmth shimmers low over the land and the birds 

 are bursting into song, the open country surrounding the Laguna de la 

 Merced in the southwestern section of the city yields a peculiar charm; for it is 

 here, within scarcely an hour's ride of the metropolis, that one may find "a 

 pleasure in the pathless woods", or pausing by the willow-bordered lakes, listen 

 to the cackling of innumerable coots, to the whirring of ducks, and occasionally, 

 on never-to-be-forgotten days, to the wild far away shouting of the loon. And 

 here, too, mingling with the hosts of singing linnets, gold-finches and song spar- 

 rows, or flitting about the fresh-water ponds may be found that interesting feath- 

 ered anomaly, the Salt Marsh Yellowthroat (Geothlypis 1 tricltas sinuosa) * 



The term "Salt Marsh" which has been applied to these birds is highly mis- 

 leading and I cannot too heartily endorse the suggestion made by Messrs. Raj^ 

 and Carrriger that in future this sub-species be known as the San Francisco 

 Yellowthroat. Its distribution was given in The Condor, hi, page 65, as ■ ' about 

 the salt marshes of San Francisco Bay and vicinity ; ' ' yet not only is it found 

 much more commonly in the neighborhood of fresh water throughout most of 

 this region, but even in areas directly adjacent to the lower bay where salty flats 

 largely predominate it shows marked preference for the reaches of non-saline 

 streams. Indeed on numerous excursions along the brackish sloughs near San 

 Mateo 1 have found this yellowthroat to be exceedingly scarce, though upon ap- 

 proaching that portion of fresh- water seepage land lying a few miles to the west- 

 ward, it again becomes decidedly common and nests there abundantly. 



About Lake Merced it is evenly distributed and is resident the year around, 

 although much less in evidence during the winter months. In the short dark 

 days of December a walk about the dreary swampland of the old rancho will 

 often disclose the small olive-drab figure of sinuosa flitting out of sight far in ad- 

 vance of your approach, while the wind bears down to you its solitary chack of 

 protest and suspicion. At this season these birds are more often heard than seen. 

 They apparently forsake in greater part the boggy meadows where they dwelt 

 in summer and keep to the seclusion of the high tules standing in deep water; 

 but with the gradual approach of spring their incursions into the shorter grasses 

 and out among the willows become more and more frequent, until by early Feb- 

 ruary the yellow breasts and masked faces of a solitary pair may be met with, 

 like the outposts of an army, high up among the lupine bushes on the dry hill- 

 sides. The greater number, however, are content to remain close down beside the 

 lakes in the old willowy haunts of the previous year. At this period I have once 

 or twice heard them utter a short grating k-r-r-r-r-r in addition to their familiar 

 chack of distrust. 



It is usually not until some warm, sunny morning in late February that the 

 clear ringing wreech-ity, wreech-ity, wreech-ity, wreech-ity of the male is heard. 

 This song varies considerably with the season and individual, those in early 

 spring often sounding sadly out of tune, and some are even rendered in a con- 



*Specimens collected at Lake Merced, San Francisco County, by Mr. Henry W. Car- 

 rig-er, and by him deposited in the California Museum of Vertebrate Zoology, prove the 

 identity of the race as above indicated. — EDITORS. 



