38 THE CONDOR Vol. XXII 
Brewer Blackbird, a goodly number of which species always winter around the ranches 
on the prairies. My series of winter Red-wing skins does not as yet show marked dif- 
ferences in measurements worthy of tabulation. However, a series of winter Robins is 
proving to have some interesting differences as compared with the summer residents. 
In view of Professor Henderson’s notes on the activities of Pinyon Jays (Cyano- 
cephalus cyanocephalus), I will say that on October 15, 1919, I saw a flock of about 
twenty-five passing over the Denver business district, in spite of the smoke and the city 
sounds, headed in a northeasterly direction. Then again at Elbert, Colorado, some fifty 
miles distant from Denver, and about the same distance from Pike’s Peak, I observed 
several small flocks of from half a dozen to a dozen, flying high in a northeasterly di- 
rection; time about noon. On the same day there were scattered flocks feeding on grain 
stacks in the valley around Elbert. They all seemed to remove to the pine ridges iu a 
southwesterly direction at night, which led me to think these latter were not engaged 
in the same movements as those seen earlier in the day. Occasionally they are seen in 
the summer around Elbert, but I am positive that they do not nest there. 
I might say further that Golden Hagles (Aquila chrysaetos) appear to be on the 
increase in the region of Elbert, and that this is not due to an increase in rabbits, which 
latter are not so numerous on account of the growing number of coyotes (bounties-havy- 
ing stopped because of the war). Trapping is growing in popularity again, and an as- 
tonishing number of eagles are being killed because of their absolute fearlessness of 
trap bait. Then, too, some of the country folk are killing them because of a popular 
belief in their destructiveness. Of five stomachs examined in 1917, one was empty, two 
contained evidences of cotton-tail, and two contained evidences of both cotton-tail and 
prairie-dog. Bald eagles are exceedingly scarce in Colorado. 
During the summer of 1918, at least a dozen pairs of Mockingbirds nested along 
three or four miles of a small stream near Elbert, and this year I heard not a single 
bird in my travels about the county.—RaALPH Hupparp, EHlbert, Colorado, November 10, 
1919. 
Birds Returning to Their Old Haunts.—At a late summer meeting of the Cooper 
Ornithological Club, in 1919, a discussion arose concerning the possibility of pairs of 
birds migrating separately and returning to the same spot to mate again the next sea- 
son. In a matter of this sort there is vast room for discussion, of which I do not intend 
to take advantage here, but will advance the proposition that if one of a pair of birds 
returns to the same spot in succeeding seasons there seems no reason to suppose that 
the other may not do so also, provided, of course, that it has not been prevented by 
some fortuitous circumstance. 
Two cases of the return of certain birds not only to general localities but actually 
to small, defined areas, have come to my notice during the past year (1919), and if one 
bird thus returns why may not its mate? Which opens up the possibility, if not the 
probability, of the two mating again. 
The first of these cases occurred at the Bohemian Grove, near Monte Rio, Sonoma 
County, California, where it is an annual habit with me to pass at least a couple of 
weeks in camp during the midsummer. While there in the summer of 1918 my curiosity 
was greatly aroused by a remarkable bird call often to be heard in the brush just out- 
side the main entrance to the grove proper, on land from which the large timber had 
long since been cut off. Several attempts to locate the bird had failed, and the pros- 
pect of identifying it in that hillside of thick bushes and small trees was anything but 
encouraging. However, continued study of the situation led me to discover that the 
sound came a little more frequently from one particular clump of redwood saplings not 
very far up on the hillside than from any other one spot. Hence one morning I scram- 
bled on hands and knees under the bushes to this clump and lay there motionless for 
a long time. 
Few birds came within the range of vision, but after a iong wait a Russet-backed 
Thrush (Hylocichla ustulata ustulata) appeared on a twig right over my head, not. 
over three or four yards away, and, to my amazement, uttered the call which had been 
so impossible to identify, and which was no more like the notes of a thrush than the 
mew of a cat is like the bark of a dog. This bird remained overhead for some minutes, 
frequently repeating its queer cry; but in several instances one or two of the first 
