Nov., 1921 FALL MIGRATIONS: OF: FOX SPARROWS 181. 
mencement of our. vigil, as being a week earher than’the date of the’ big wave 
of 1919. 
That morning found us in readiness for any sized wave that might come 
along, but none came that day nor for a good many days thereafter. We 
found a few fox sparrows scattered through the brush, and tried by various 
means to watch them, as well as to secure specimens for identification, finally 
coming to the conclusion that the best method was to camp down near some 
of the far from numerous water holes and wait to see what might come to 
drink. We eleared the trash from under the thick brush so that we could see 
a few yards around about and kept still for hours at a time. 
Of those which we saw under these conditions, some certainly came there 
to bathe and drink, but a good many appeared only to be passing along, often 
chirping the characteristic fox sparrow note, so much like a similar note oi 
the junecos. Evidently the Yolla Bolly Fox Sparrow, which was almost the 
only form we saw for the first few days of our stay, was dropping down, just 
as at Glenbrook, from its comparatively near breeding grounds which extend 
from Mt. Sanhedrin, Snow Mountain, ete., up into the Yolla Bolly and Trinity 
ranges. Probably the birds we first saw were from Sanhedrin and the adja- 
cent mountains not much over 60 miles away, while the later ones came from 
the more northerly ranges. 
The only way to find out what subspecies were passing thorugh was te 
secure some specimens each day. Some days we would obtain only one or two 
apiece, while on others we would do a little better, but toward the end of the 
month there was a very decided increase in the numbers noted although noth- 
ing that could be described as a ‘‘wave’’ had materialized. It appeared as if 
the migration this year was just a sort of drifting process and it did not seem 
worth while for both of us to stay to watch this, so I decided to return to San 
Francisco, but to leave Littlejohn for a few days longer just in case something 
might happen. We had been breakfasting on cold bread and milk at daylight 
so as to reach the observation grounds as soon as it was light enough to see 
clearly. On the morning of September 30 I was all packed up to leave and 
was breakfasting at the civilized time of 7:30 when Littlejohn, who had gone 
out at our usual early hour, came in breathless to say that when he reached 
the grounds ‘‘the hillsides were alive with fox sparrows’’. 
According to his description they. were coming in bunches from the north, 
numbers settling in the brush or along the road for a few moments to seratch, 
while others appeared and passed beyond, the different bunches thus con- 
stantly overlapping as so often do blackbirds when feeding in flocks, those in 
the rear continually rising and flying ahead of the advance guard. 
Hurrying back in all haste to my quarters, unpacking and getting the 
necessary paraphernalia together, I made the best speed of which I was capa- 
ble up the grade to the spot, but arrived just in time to be too late. Not a 
Sparrow was in sight. The rest of the morning was passed in the hope of a 
second wave appearing but nothing of the kind happened. We secured a few 
scattering specimens, but that was all. 
Still in the hope of a repetition of the occurrence we remained here until 
October 5, and I was partially rewarded by the advent of at least a small wave 
which, insignificant as it was in size, gave me an opportunity to see what the 
actions of the individuals composing it were like. 
