206 THE CONDOR Vol. XXII 
Some Nesting Habits of the Pied-billed Grebe.—There seems to be some uncer- 
tainty among authorities as to the sitting habits of the Pied-billed Grebe (Podilymbus 
podiceps). I was fortunate enough, on June 9, 1920, to surprise one of these birds on 
its nest in such a way as to prove, to my own satisfaction at least, that it was incubating 
its eggs in normal fashion. 
I was driving along the county road from Firebaugh to Merced, California, watch- 
ing the bordering tule patches closely, when I saw one of these grebes sitting. I stopped 
my machine and immediately the bird became suspicious, but did not move. Undoubtedly 
she had become used to automobiles passing. There was a small pond in the ditch by 
the roadside and in this the nest was floating. It was not more than twelve or fifteen 
feet from me and the black band across the bird’s bill was easily noticeable.’ 
My son and I watched her for several minutes, all of us remaining motionless. 
Then the boy left the car on the farther side without the grebe having) seen him. When 
he came around the end of the auto and she could see him she immediately slipped into 
the water. 
As she half rose preparatory to leaving, I could see her eggs, very clearly and 
distinctly. But the most interesting thing was to watch her cover them. Her body 
moved without a pause, yet the bird contrived to take three quick pecks at the sides of 
her nest, pulling the material in her bill under her body. The time consumed was about 
twice what a chicken would take to peck three mouthfuls from a feed bin; approximately 
two seconds, I estimate. In any event there was no perceptible time lost. She seemed 
to leave the nest as easily and as quickly as any other bird. But when we reached it, 
not a speck of any part of her six eggs was visible. 
Mr. Bent (page 42 of his “Life Histories of North American Diving Birds’) states 
that the young “cling tenaciously to the parent bird while she dives and brings them up 
again.” On June 25, 1919, I saw a Pied-billed Grebe with three young that could hardly 
have been more than 24 hours old. When I first noticed them the babies were sitting on 
the mother’s back, a very pretty sight. At my approach she dove and left them bobbing 
on the surface of the water like so many corks. She came up a few yards away and at 
once they all swam to her and climbed aboard. This process was repeated several times 
and not once was one of the babies dragged under at all. 
I must apologize for my use of the pronoun ‘“‘she’”. Of course I had no means of 
knowing the sex of the parent bird in either of the above cases.—GRIFFING BANCROFT, Said 
Diego, California, September 12, 1920. 
The Orange-crowned Warbler a Possible Winter Resident at Seattle, Washington. 
—Although until the past winter, 1919-20, there were only a few spring and fall records 
for the Orange-crowned Warbler (Vermivora celata) on the Puget Sound, it seems now 
as if the status of this species about Seattle may have to be decidedly changed. It was 
on December 26 that I secured the first specimen and in the next two months five others 
were seen, three of which were collected. All were invariably found feeding singly with 
restless wandering flocks of Kinglets and Chickadees, and being quiet and inconspicuous 
more were probably overlooked than were actually recorded. The dates on which they 
were seen were December 26, one bird, January 31, one bird, February 9, one bird, Febru- 
ary 13, two birds, and February 27, one bird. Whether this species has merely been 
overlooked, or whether this winter saw an unusual invasion of these birds, remains for 
the future to decide. Of the four birds taken, one was sent to the Biological Survey for 
identification and was returned marked as a separate subspecies of the Orange-crowned 
Warbler that as yet has not been recognized by the A. O. U., for which reason I have 
used the specific name. All of them are now in the collection of Mr. D. BE. Brown of 
Seattle-—Tnos. D. BurLeIcu, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, September 6, 1920. 
Notes on the Calliope Hummingbird.—The writer spent the week from June 18 
to 25 at Seven Oaks, in the San Bernardino Mountains, elevation 5200 feet. This proved 
to be just at the height of the mating season of the Calliope Hummers (Stellula calliope), 
which were feeding abundantly on a species of “paint-brush” that grew rankly in a 
small hillside cienaga just above the cabins. 
