Jan. 5, 1888.] 



swept away by the high water of spring, and only shape- 

 less rafts of rubbish grounded here and there among the 

 rashes were left to show how industriously these little 

 water folk had builded but a few months ago. Their 

 homes were now in burrows in the banks, the occupancy 

 of which was seldom indicated in daytime but by the 

 roiling of the watery entrance, or the sluggish underwater 

 wake of a silent incomer or outgoer. 



Great blue herons sentineled the shallows, or fanned 

 their slow way from one to another, and now and then a 

 bittern made a startled ungainly flight from the densest 

 beds of rushes, while kingfishers scolded and clattered 

 along their jerky course, or hung over minnow-haunted 

 shoals as if suspended by invisible threads, which pres- 

 ently were severed and let them fall into the brown water 

 with a splashing upburst of spray. The scraggy tangles 

 of button bushes were noisy and flashing with innumer- 

 able nesting redwings, sunfish and perch were incessantly 

 snapping at the various insects resting on or hovering 

 about the water plants, and great fish surged through the 

 rushes in pursuit of prey or in swift retreat from the 

 boat. The marshes were busy with the life of their 

 thronging tenants in the happy summers of those days. 

 Alas, that they are so silent and deserted now! 

 , Over the tops of the rushes Sam caught occasional 

 glimpses of Antoine stealing along the shore in his nefa- 

 rious bullpout prodding, and mildly "dum'd him" in solil- 

 oquy ''for a wus'n half Injin." In the afternoon he 

 paddled to the mouth of the creek, and after looking at the 

 dancing waves of the sunlit bay clasped in the arms of 

 the green-clad June shores, and watching the majestic 

 sweep of an eagle wheeling above the cliffs, he beached 

 his canoe on the rushy shore of the landing and took his 

 fare of fish to camp, whither his companions soon came. 

 At nightfall they had their bountiful supper of fish, and 

 then as they smoked their pipes about the dying embers, 

 each told the story of his day's outing. 



" Rowland E . Robinson. 



ON THE PATERA. 



STARTING from the town of Santa Barbara, Cal., one 

 morning early, I found myself spuming over the 

 'hard adobe behind two wiry mustangs. Approaching 

 the desired goal, we heard the summons, "All out for the 

 ducks!"' and after tethering horses we got into boots and 

 coats, and, with guns on shoulders and retrievers at heel, 

 Ave started the day's shooting. Crouching in a small 

 ravine by the lake, we waited. Whizzing by comes a 

 r flock of teal and the silence is broken by two reports, fol- 

 lowed sharply by another from Grant, the native. Re- 

 [sult, three teal. "Fetch 'em here, Brant," and the ducks 

 are soon laid at our feet. The sun breaks through the 

 mist and discloses at the far end of the lake a white and 

 black mass of ducks. Grant ■ starts after them, soon a 

 puff of smoke stirs them up, and in a confused mass the 

 ducks circle over with whistling wings and now and then 

 a discordant quack. Ducks everywhere, over water, 

 under water and in the air; and then with a last turn 

 and quack they betake themselves to the waters of the 

 Pacific, leaving behind five to my gun and eight to 

 Grant's. One after another the fowl are laid at my feet 

 by the spaniel, whose every nerve is quivering with ex- 

 citement. Thirteen ducks, and plump ones too, conjure 

 up before my eyes the inviting picture of a snowy table 

 whose centerpiece is a savory redhead. 



Ducks wheel by singly and in pairs. Pluuip little 

 butterballs and spoonbills now and then beat the air with 

 their whistling wings. Unaccountable misses afford me 

 counteraction for brilliant shots; but nevertheless thirty- 

 five ducks will make a man feel greater in importance 

 than many another thing; and then comes the after pleas- 

 ure of talking over the events of the day's sport, with my 

 dog lying; at my feet and occasionally looking up when 

 he is called by name and praised for his obedience and 

 skill in bringing a duck out of the tules (those banes of a 

 retriever's life): amid the clouds of fragrant smoke arise 

 the images of many a lusty duck who had beaten his last 

 tattoo on the bosom of his mother water. B. E. B. 

 St. Lotas, Mo. 



UNUSUAL NESTING SITES.-II. 



[A paper read Dec. 5, 18S7, before the California Academy of 

 Sciences, by Walter E. Bryant.] 



THE entire material, with one exception, which com- 

 prises the present paper, has been received in brief 

 notes or dictations from Messrs. W. Otto Emerson, A. M. 

 Ingersoll and Ghas. W. Knox, leaving the part taken by 

 the author simply that of editor and compiler. The in- 

 itials following the cases cited are those of the observers, 

 to whom my thanks are due for communicating their 

 interesting field observations. 



Arkansas Flycatcher — Tyyaimus vertiealis. — A nest was 

 found built upon a fence-post more than half a mile from 

 the nearest tree. It was secured from observation on one 

 side by a board nailed to the post and projecting; above it. 

 I (A. M. I.) 



Black Phoebe— Sayorn is nigricans. — A pair built for 

 I two consecutive years in a well four feet below the stir- 

 face. The first year a second nest was built after the 

 first had been taken. ( W. O. E.) 



Baird's Flycatcher— Epidonax difficilis.—A nest was 

 built at the bottom of a hole five inches deep, made by a 

 red-shafted flicker in a live oak. (A. M. I.) 



Blue-fronted Jay — Cyanoeitta stelleri frontalis. — A 

 strange departure from the usual habits of jays was 

 r noticed in Placer county, Cal. , where they had persisted 

 in building within the snowsheds in spite of the noise 

 and smoke of passing trains. The destruction of their 

 nests by the men employed on the water train, which 

 makes two trips a week through the sheds during the 

 summer, sprinkling the woodwork and tearing down the 

 nests of jays and robins with a hook attached to a pole, 

 | seemed not to discourage them. So accustomed do the 

 jays become to the passing of trains, that they will often 

 remain on their nests undisturbed. 



In one season more than two hundred nests of jays and 

 robins were destroyed, so the trainmen say, between 

 Cisco and Summit, a distance of thirteen miles. Some 

 of the nests were but partially built, others contained eggs ; 

 these latter ones having probably been overlooked on 

 previous trips. 



. The nesting of the jays within the snowsheds is, so Mr. 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



Ingersoll supposes, to avoid the persecution of squirrels. 

 None, he thinks, however, succeed in rearing a brood, 

 for of more than thirty nests which he found, nearly all 

 were uncompleted. (A. M. I.) 



American Goldfinch — Spinas iristis. — In 1884 a grove 

 of young willows that had been occupied the previous 

 season by a colony of tricolor ed blackbirds was found 

 deserted by them.* Many of the blackbirds' nests still re- 

 mained, in forks of the willows from four to ten feet above 

 the marsh. Six of these old nests were in possession of 

 American goldfinches. The present tenants had loosely 

 filled the nest about half full of cat-tail down and had 

 formed only a slight hollow for the nest proper. Some 

 were found with eggs and in others there were "birds in 

 last year's nests." (A. M. I.) 



Samuel's Song Sparrow — Melospiza faciaia samvelis. — 

 A nest containing three eggs was found in a round oyster 

 can which had lodged sideways among some driftwood 

 in a willow tree. (W. O. E.) 



California Towhee — Pipilo fuscus crissalis. — A pair 

 constructed a nest in a five-gallon kerosene oil-can that 

 lay on its side in a shallow ditch. Part of one end of the 

 can had been cut open, giving access to the birds. (W. 

 O. E.) 



Barn Swallow — Chelidon erythrogaster. — A kind- 

 hearted postmaster in the country nailed a shelf -like board 

 against the porch above the entrance to his office, intend- 

 ing to give the crimson house finches a place to build. A 

 pair of barn swallows took possession of this arrangement 

 and built on top of it a nest composed of straw and 

 feathers. This is the only instance I have known where 

 this species used no mud in the composition of its nest. 

 The position of this nest was less remarkable than the 

 peculiarity of its structure. (A. M. I.) 



A barn swallow's nest was built a few feet below the 

 surface of a well which was in daily use, water being 

 raised by means of a windlass and bucket. The weight 

 of the growing young became so great that it broke the 

 nest from the moist ground, and the young were drowned. 

 A second nest was speedily begun upon a shelf of rock, 

 nearly thirty feet below the siirfaee, and not high above 

 the water.' Unfortunately, the result of this second 

 attempt was not learned, for it would be exceedingly 

 interesting to know how, if at all, the young were 

 brought to the surface from so groat a depth. (C. W. K.) 



The nesting of another pair of these swallows was illus- 

 trative as much of persistency in nest building as it was 

 of the unusual site which they eventually chose, 

 prompted by repeated molestation. Three nests were 

 built in succession; the first, containing five eggs, was 

 taken from a partially abandoned mining tunnel, ten 

 feet from the entrance: later, a second nest and five eggs 

 was found, and taken nearly twenty feet from the 

 entrance of the same tunnel, but the tliird nest was hap- 

 pily not discovered until the eggs had hatched. This 

 nest was about fifty feet from the entrance, and under 

 cover of partial darkness the persevering pair had built 

 and reared a brood. The finding of the last nest happened 

 by chance. Mr. Knox had descended a shaft connected 

 with the tunnel and was passing along the level with a 

 lighted candle when he saw a bird fly from close before 

 him, and aided by the light which he carried, the nest, 

 with four large young, was found, but left undisturbed. 

 (C. W. K.) 



Tree Swallow — Taehycineta bicolor. — A few years ago 

 I found a nest with young in a crevice under the project- 

 ing and decayed deck of a lumber lighter, moored in 

 Oakland Harbor. 



Hutton's Vireo— Vireo huttoni.—A pair of vireos built 

 this year in the outer branches of a live oak, only a few 

 feet above the exhaust pipe from a steam pump, where at 

 times they were compelled to suspend work, owing to the 

 dense vapor which enveloped them. Four eggs were laid 

 in this nest. (C. W. K.) 



Long-Billed Marsh Wren — Cisiotlwrus palustris. — A 

 conspicuous nest, containing eggs, was woven among the 

 almost leafless branches of a young willow, five feet above 

 a fresh water marsh. The false nests were built as usual, 

 but in the coarse grass near by. (A. M. I.) 



GROUSE AND MALLARD PLUMAGE. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I have been much interested in the articles in the last 

 and preceding numbers of Forest and Stream on the 

 sex markings of grouse and plumage of the mallard drake, 

 subjects to which I have myself paid considerable atten- 

 tion, and a few additional remarks may be not unaccept- 

 able to your readers. 



The examination of a very large number of specimens 

 of ruffed grouse from almost every part of North America 

 (as far north as Labrador and the Yukon Valley in Alaska, 

 south to Georgia and California) has shown me that while 

 females are decidedly smaller than males, with the ruff 

 much less developed, the markings somewhat less sharply 

 defined and the colors not so strongly contrasted, speci- 

 mens not unfrequently occur which it would be impossi- 

 ble to determine the sex of without dissection, there being 

 considerable variation in both sexes, i.e., some females 

 (perhaps only very old or well fed birds) being larger, etc. , 

 than certain males (possibly younger or "runty" individ- 

 uals). For example, I once examined, in the flesh, a very 

 fine bird, killed at Lam-el. Maryland, which I was sure 

 was a male until dissection showed it to be a female. 



As to the dark band across the tail, it is quite certain 

 that no dependence whatever can be put in its continuity 

 or interruption on the middle feathers as a sexual charac- 

 ter. I cannot say that I have observed a perfectly con- 

 tinuous band in any female, but I have seen many fully 

 adult and in every respect well developed males in which 

 it was either more or less broken or else wholly interrupted 

 on the middle feathers. This variation, I would remark, 

 applies to all the local or geographical races into which 

 the species is divided.* 



Coming to the subject of the summer plumage of the 

 mallard drake, it has long been known, in Europe at 

 least, that the male not only of this species but of others 

 also, assumed during a portion of the summer a plumage 

 hardly to be distinguished from that of the female. The 

 only question has been as to whether the changed 

 plumage was "nuptial" or "post-nuptial;" that is, 

 whether the male assumed it at the beginning of the 

 breeding season or not until after the female had com- 

 menced incubating or the young had appeared. This 

 summer plumage of the mallard drake, as well as of the 



* I make this observation for the reason that, some years ago, 

 when these races were considered distinct species, this feature 

 was mentioned as a specific character. 



463 



male gad wall, pintail and old squaw, are described in the 

 "Water Birds of North America" ("B. B. and R.," pp. 

 492, 506 and 512 of Vol. I., and 58 of Vol. II. respectively), 

 although, except in case of the last, on account of not 

 having specimens at hand, the descriptions are quoted 

 from Dresser's "Birds of Europe." In my recently pub- 

 lished "Manual of North American Birds" the slimmer 

 plumage of the male of the following additional species 

 is described (on pages 92, 93, 95, 102 and 107 respectively), 

 mostly from specimens in the National Museum collection: 

 Blue-winged teal, cinnamon teal, widgeon, blackhead 

 and harlequin. 



I am not prepared at present to state how nearly uni- 

 versal this change of plumage in the male may be among 

 the ducks of North America, but I think it will be found 

 universal among the river ducks, in which the plumage 

 of the sexes differs at any time, and I also have strong 

 reasons for suspecting it in certain others, as the broad- 

 billed Ful'igiUce, the golden-eyes, eiders and mergansers: 

 but as to these the informal ion which I have is simply 

 suggestive. 1 Robert Ridgway. 



Washington, D. C, Dec. 20, 1887. 



A FAMILIAR GROUSE. 



Editor Forest and, Stream: 



"Nor'east's" account of the "Queer Dick of a "Wood- 

 cock," in Forest and Stream of Dec. 15, calls to mind 

 the capture, in a similar way, of a young grouse, about 

 three-fourths grown, in September last. While walking 

 along,- a wood road my spaniel flushed several grouse, one 

 of wbich flew swiftly past within reach of my cane. It 

 alighted near the path in some bushes, and endeavored 

 to hide in a small pile of brush. Reaching through the 

 dry twigs I drew it out, as perfect, apparently, as ever 

 bird was. Holding it in my hand stroking its head and 

 neck, it exhibited no fear except at the lively actions of 

 the cocker, at whose behavior it showed considerable 

 uneasiness, craning its neck to look over my arm at the 

 excited dog. I sent the latter off into the woods, and 

 then the bird became quiet enough, making no effort to 

 regain its liberty, and seemed in no hurry to take its 

 flight. Upon being gently urged it took wing, but im- 

 mediately settled down again a few rods away, and 

 quietly submitted to recapture and further caressing. I 

 was strongly inclined to take the bird home and see what 

 would become of it in confinement, but finally decided to 

 release it to regain its companions. Placing it on the 

 limb of a small tree, it flew thence to the ground, elevated 

 its ruff, and, with head toning from side to side, it 

 daintily lif ted its feet high over the leaves and went its 

 way, a veritable prince of the woods. 



When a boy I occasionally caught grouse chicks in New 

 Hampshire, trying, always unsuccessfully, to raise them 

 in confinement, but never before have I caught, in my 

 hands, a vigorous, nearly full-grown grouse, nor have I 

 ever known of a like incident occurring elsewhere. The 

 bird seemed little shyer than ordinary domestic fowls, 

 and was a fair match for "Nor'east's" strange woodcock. 



North Chelmsford. Mass. L. H. S. 



A Swimming Rtjffed Grouse.— Albany, N. Y. ; Dec. 

 18. — Editor Forest and Stream: A few weeks since at 

 dusk, as I was passing through a railroad cut, accom- 

 panied by a colbe, the familiar "whir-r"' of a ruffed 

 grouse attracted my attention. Quickly looking ahead, I 

 saw the bh-d flutter along the ground/ A word, and the 

 dog had it under his paws. Examining it as well as the 

 uncertain light would permit, no marks of a gun could 

 be found. As a barbed wire fence is above the cut, and 

 the telegraph lines are still higher, it is possible that in 

 flying for a piece of woods across the track, the bird 

 struck one of these. It being unhurt, save by the absence 

 of feathers from the tail and wings, which hindered its 

 flying, I carried it into the woods and set it down; with 

 a peculiar cry it hid beneath the leaves. The next morn- 

 ing I returned to the woods and was entering a little gully 

 preceded by the dog, when the grouse, with extended 

 neck and wings, ran past, followed by the dog. Calling 

 the dog I headed the bird off, and keeping a short dis- 

 tance behind, observed closely its movements. Running 

 along the track a few yards it turned down the embank- 

 ment, at the base of which rims a large creek. Pausing 

 an instant, the bird deliberately jumped into the water 

 and swam about six feet from shore; but, apparently 

 finding the water too cold, or doubting its ability to 

 reach the opposite bank, returned. Its swimming seemed 

 not at all labored, and was quite as rapid as that of a 

 duck. Catching it, I brought it deeper into the woods 

 and freed it, when its actions of the previous evening 

 were repeated.— N atura. 



The Woodduck in Winter.— Cold Spring Harbor, N. 

 Y., Dec. 28.— Editor Forest and Stream: In September a 

 drake woodduck came among my flock of woodducks, 

 teal, etc., and remains there yet. We can easily distin- 

 guish him by his flying from one pond to another, some- 

 thing that the pinioned birds cannot do. He is as tame 

 as the rest of the flock, coming up to the grain box to feed 

 with the others within 80ft. of where a gang of carpenters 

 are at work on the new fish hatchery. At times the pond 

 has been partly frozen over, and it is exposed to the cold 

 storms coming across Long Island Sound. I had expected 

 to miss the bird long before this, as I never knew of a 

 "summer duck" remaining here through the winter, 

 voluntarily. One peculiarity of these birds is their seek- 

 ing shade on the coldest day. Often my flock can be 

 seen under the south bank of the pond when a cold north, 

 wind is blowing, sitting in the shade. On cloudy days 

 they will play on the water, diving and chasing each 

 other, but on bright days they are seldom out in the sun- 

 shine. The rjrobability is that this wild bird will now 

 remain with the flock all winter. — Fred Mather. 



The Muskrat in Delaware. — The muskrat is natur- 

 ally a wary animal, but when pressed by hunger it is 

 quite venturesome and often vicious when disturbed. 

 They seldom exceed 51bs. in weight, in this State. They 

 live in burrows or hollow logs, on the margin of streams, 

 seldom venturing out for food until nightfall. On the 

 marshes then - towns resemble the famous "dog towns" of 

 the western prairie. They are found both near salt and 

 fresh water. They subsist chiefly on water mollusks. 

 They are most numerous in Kent county. Many persons 

 living near the marshes bordering on the Delaware Bay, 

 buy large quantities of marsh land and devote their time 

 solely to muskrat farming. The sale of the hides when 

 cured, is quite remunerative, while the flesh finds a ready 

 sale in the local markets.— Del. A. Ware. 



