14 THE CONDOR Vol. XXI 
though one surmises the storm of the first of the month as the occasion of tem- 
porary desertion and consequent disaster. One of the eggs, moreover, has an an- 
cient puncture, like a bill stab. The bird returned immediately after my first in- 
vestigation, as she did also after I had taken the eggs. Quite daffy, you see! 
The heart wood of the stump proved to be so rotten that I could do nothing with 
it but tear it away, but I did save two neighboring chunks by way of loeal at- 
mosphere. Nest composed chiefly of the blackbeard lichen (Alectoria fremontr) 
with a little ornamentation, upon the skirts, of the yellow-green lichen (Hverma 
vulpina). After I had removed the nest, both birds sat: about, within twenty 
yards or so, and gave vent to the tiniest notes of complaint. 
V148/4-16 Townsend Solitaire, Hardscramble Camp (alt. 8000); July 
16: A Townsend Solitaire sings from a dead limb near the summit of a tall fir 
tree, not less than 150 feet above the ground. The song is broken and fragment- 
ary, and is rendered in a matter-of-fact, passionless way which harmonizes well 
enough with the sedate bearing of the bird. Although it was a hot day, I could 
fancy that the sentry sang with redoubled vigor as he saw me poking and prying 
about old stumps and upturned roots. The joke is on me, and he knows it. 
July 12: We have been regaled from time to time by Solitaire music pro- | 
ceeding from a point about 300 yards southwest of camp. Bert went down on 
Sunday, July 9, and was treated to a fluttering performance on the part of the 
male. He hunted diligently, but without result, while the male watched him sil- 
ently from an elevated station. We returned to the charge together on Monday, 
but since we looked only for a stump nest we were unsuccessful. Hunting alone 
that afternoon in another locality, Bert found a nest, n/3, (to be reported later) 
under the base of a tree. With this clew Bert returned to the present prospect 
vesterday, determined to succeed. The male bird gave him no better hght than 
before, so he set to work systematically to investigate the base of every tree in 
the neighborhood. At the end of two hours he flushed the bird from the down- 
hill, or protected, side of a big Shasta fir, at least a hundred yards from the ori- 
ginal station. The bird flushed and fluttered away like a gray ghost, and as sil- 
ently. About 50 yards away Bert found what looked like a decoy nest, or aban- 
doned claim, under the curving base of a tree. There was an abundance of fir 
twigs heaped about, and the rough outlines of a hollow, but no lining, save one 
chunk of blackbeard moss. 
Today we are ‘‘trying her out’’ with a view to getting a picture of the sitting 
bird on her nest. She flushed very quickly at first, and required fifteen minutes 
and many feints to return. She flushed again as I leveled the Graflex at her, 
but she is back after a five minute interval. After another turn at settling and 
flushing, we watched the bird feint and settle. Almost immediately the male 
vird, whose presence we had not previously suspected, flew down to see that his 
inate was well placed, then instantly took himself off. 
I succeed in snapping at 11 feet this time, but have a very poor show with 
the Ross lens. However, the light improves, as well as the disposition of my lady, 
and, to my amazement, I am able to get her with the Heliar, 8 ft., 7 ft., 6 £t.— 
all this not without many flushings and feintings. Finally, the sun shines full 
upon the critical spot,—d ft., 4 ft., 314 ft—glorious! until the last plate is used 
up. Then I try the Premo with tripod. This bothers the birdie. She ventures 
yack but is ill at ease and pops off again at the slightest excuse. It looks too 
much like a trap, especially when I come back to ‘‘work’’ it. A tube would have 
been the thing, but I am without one this year. Finally, in despair, I lie down by 
