268 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Oct. 2^, 18&1. 



(2) Place the largest birds at the bottom of the box, the 

 smallesfc on top, 



(3) Fill spaces between the epecimens with "excelsior" 

 packing or some other dry elastic vegetable substance 

 (not cotton, which is too ligb t, except for small birds alone). 



(4) Pack the box quite full. 



(5) Line the box, if practicable, witlk thiqk paper before 

 the birds are put in. 



RECORDS. 



The field notes of a collector may be nearly as valuable 

 as bis specimens. They should include observations on the 

 habits, notes, etc, of the various speci'^s met with, the 

 Mnds of looHlities they f rFquent, their food, and all matters 

 which concern their life history. These notes may be 

 written either in a book or on separate scraps of paper 

 (preferably the former), but should never be written on 

 both sides of the paper, unless the supply runs short, in 

 vpliich case it will be necessary to have one page of each 

 leaf copied before the notes can be properly utilized. 



In addition to these field notes, the collector should 

 catalogue his specimens as they are obtained, beginning 

 vdth No. 1, and he should have'a single set of numbers. 

 The catalogue number of each specimen should be given 

 both in this catalogue and on the label of the specimen it- 

 self, and the full data also duplicated in the same manner. 



SOME NEW VARIETIES OF BIRD SONG. 



LAST summer (1890) vras, to me, especially rich in spar- 

 row song; but one of them is in the foreground of my 

 memory, and will always remain there, it was po unique, 

 so sweet in tone and so remarkably distinct in enunci- 

 ation — and the words were these, teet, teet, ie-dee-de, 

 sweet. Not much of a song, you will say; and it was not 

 as elaborate as other sparrow songs; but there was some- 

 thing inexpressibly winning in the tone, the distinctness 

 of utterance and the individuality of this bird's song. 

 I felt as though the bird was a particular friend; I felt as 

 though it was directing its song to me porfonaliy. 



The first time that I heai-d it, on the 6th of April, I was 

 awakened by it in the morning, and was struck by the 

 singularity and power of the notes, the middle part of 

 the strain was so different from that of other song spar- 

 rows. Usually one cannot distinguish notes in that part; 

 it is simply a rapid trill. In this it seemed to me that the 

 word sineet was uttered as distinctly as a human being 

 could do it. I heard these strains frequently during the 

 day — teet, teet, te-dee de, sweet; sometimes after a pause, 

 a second sweet, lower, like an echo. As it went further 

 off, I heard repeatedly te dee-de, sweet; and sometimes I 

 heard, by the same voice, a low, sweet call, twee, tivee, 

 sweet, with rising notes. At night I thought I might 

 never hear it again — it might be a passing thing; but the 

 next day I heard it again and again. 



I wanted to see the sweet singer to see if it looked dif- 

 ferent from other song sparrows; and after some days, 

 while I was at work in my flower garden, he alighted on 

 a trellis near me and sang before me. It was an ordinary 

 looking song sparrow. Two or three times after this i 

 witnessed his singing. I continued to hear it every day 

 for three months. 



One day I found a dead sparrow near the house, and 

 feared it was Te-dee-de-sweet, as I called him; but soon 

 after was gladdened by the sound of his voice. Many a 

 time when I heard him I involuntarily exclaimed, "You 

 little darling!" I loved that bird as though it were a pet 

 cage bird, and enjoyed his song in his natural environ- 

 ment far more than I could if it were encompassed by 

 four walls. 



One day I sjsent several hours at the pine ridge, half 

 a mile from home, and while there was surprised to hear 

 Te-dee-de-sweet. As the summer advanced, he omitted 

 the first two words. Early in July I left home to visit 

 the birds among the bills of New Hampshire. As I sat on 

 my trunk at the door, just before starting, Te dee-de- 

 sweet sat on the fence before me and sang: and a few 

 'hours after my return, a month later, he welcomed me 

 back with the same old song; a,nd right glad I was to find 

 that he was still here. Daring August we had continuous 

 hot weather, and I did not hear him. I presume he went 

 northward. On Sept. 24 I beard him once again; but he 

 only said sweet, siveet. 



On July 1, a few days before I went away four young 

 song sparrows appeared in the east garden, and I have no 

 doubt it was the family of Te-dee-de-sweet, for I had 

 often heard him singing in that direction, and I had 

 known that there was a nest in the buckthorn hedge 

 near by. The mother bird had anxiously objected to my 

 trimming the hedge. The young birds came to the edge 

 of the garden within a feV,^ feet of the open window 

 where I was sitting. Young sparrows are prettier than 

 the older ones, for though the color and markings are the 

 same, they are mxich fresher looking, the dark is darker, 

 and the light is lighter, the eyes are bright and the ex- 

 pression youthful. They are not sun-faded and care- 

 worn. When I returned, a month later, I saw them in 

 the same place, as fresh- looking as ever. As I sat at the 

 window they appeared on the scene, noiselessly coming 

 out from under the current bushes. They always kept 

 near each other, and seemed fearless, not looking about 

 constantly as older birds do, and when the wind rattled 

 my paper in the window they were not frightened away. 



They were almost as playful as kittens, and would, I 

 presume, have been fully so if they had been physically 

 capable of it. They picked up pieces of dry grass, aup 

 threw them about, then suddenly whirled around anp 

 around, cuddled and fluttered in the dry earth, scatter- 

 ing it over each other's heads, and hopping up frequently 

 climbed the sticks of the peavines and jumped down, 

 then went to picking insects from under them. "When I 

 saw them the month before I noticed that they had not 

 the dark spot on the breast. They now had the two 

 smaller spots on the throat, but not the one on the breast. 

 One of them sang tit, tit, ta-ree in a weak unmelodious 

 tone. A few days later I saw them on the other side of 

 the hoti^e under the grapevines taking shelter from the 

 rain. One of them came up on to the plank walk near 

 the house and looked up at the window, A slight brown 

 spot then appeared on the breast. 



Another new sparrow song that I frequently heard was 

 tee teedle, tee-dee. This was very sweet, but not as pow- 

 erful and attractive as the other. I once met the bird 

 near the river hedge. It hopped about near me; some- 

 times looking at me, at I stood still until it flew away, 

 I liked to believe that this was the mate of Te-dee-de- 

 sweet, as it seemed a fitting one. 



One moonlight night, happening to be passing an open 



window at 2:30 A. M. I heard Tee-toedle-tee-de singing 

 i on the hillside, across the river. Then a catbird, at my 

 wharf, sang the most beautiful song that I ever heard 

 from one of its kind, and some of its notes were in imita- 

 tion of this sparrow. I did not hear this singer after my 

 return. Three times during the first week in October, I 

 saw and heard a song sparrow uttering a long-continued 

 warble like a canary or purple finch. At first I could 

 scarcely believe my eyes and ears: it seemtdas though it 

 must be a canary. 



Some say that the song sparrow has seven different 

 songs, but I have heard more than tbat from it. On 

 several successive May mornings, I was awakened by an 

 oriole in the branches" of the apple tree close to my cham- 

 ber window, meditatively uttering his interrupted notes, 

 while diligently searching the blossoms for his breakfast 

 of "species," old or new, ic matters not to him, the practi- 

 cal entomologist. I could see him for some time as I lay 

 in bed, and every time that he disappeared from view he 

 said distinctly. Good vtoming. 



As I was passing a great buttonwood tree one day I 

 heard a beautiful and unusual song issuing from among 

 its branches, the voice similar to that of a robin but not 

 as loud. I thought it might be a variation of a robin or 

 a red thrush, until finally Lord Baltimore showed his 

 colors. It was the only real song that I ever heard from 

 the Icterus haltimore, though I have heard rich and 

 beautiful notes among the varied vocalisra of its kind. 



I was ones listening to the clear, strong warbling call 

 of a rosy finch, when I heard an oriole near by imitating 

 it precisely. The rosy finch straightens itself up when 

 warbling, but I could not see whether the oriole imitated 

 it in this respect. The catbird has a "mounting song," 

 as well as the mockingbird. I have seen it mounting 

 from branch to branch, between its strains, until it 

 reached nearly the top of the tree. Its song was then 

 unusually harmonious. 



The note of the blxiebird is teticler and sweet. 

 As he fliiis through the apple tree branches above. 



Right early in springtime, your ears It wili greet. 

 Yet he warbles no song bat the call to his love. 



This is the rule, but last spring there was one excep- 

 tion; while in the orchard I heard a bluebird caroling so 

 rapidly and continuously that for a moment I thought it 

 a purple finch. 



Probably most of the song sparrows do come to us in 

 Massachusetts about April first, as reported: but I have 

 seen and heard them on my grounds in the first week in 

 February, The voice was harsh and feeble in the first 

 attempt at singing, but two or three days after it was 

 not so; and on Feb. 27, when there^v/as a perfect concert 

 of bird voices in the river hedge, i heard the full, con- 

 tinued and gleeful warbling of a song sparrow. 



Burroughs says that the meadow lark often passes the 

 winter as far north as Pennsylvania, but I hear them in 

 Massachusetts in mid-winter and at all times in the 

 year. 



Their usual plaintive strain is see-ee meee when hidden 

 in the meadow grass, or can't see mee when perched on 

 the ridgepole of the barn, but one cold morning, after 

 the promise of warm weather, I heard one saying in a 

 disappointed tone, too cold for me ee. 1 saw one the 

 other day standing on my orchard fence stretching its 

 long legs, flapping its wings and saying don't you see 

 7nee? Another in the field answered see9 o?a ("yea" in 

 trench, pronounced we). 



One warm, still morning in the middle of l^^ai'ch, I sat 

 at an open window listening to the bird voices in the 

 river hedge. Woodpeckers were hopping in the road, 

 redwings were walking about near them reiterating 

 oTcalee, English sparrows were calling like distressed 

 chickens, and song sparrows, hunting on the snow in the 

 garden, looked up at the sky and sang; and a full con- 

 cert was going on in the hedge. Then there was a pause, 

 and I heard a new voice, which at first I thought was a 

 robin, but was soon aware that it was not such a strong, 

 clarion voice. It was clear, flute-like, easy and beauti- 

 ful; then the notes changed and fell on the air in slow, 

 measured cadences — solemn, sweet, exalted. It was the 

 most moving strain of bird music that I ever heard, yet 

 not plaintive. It reminded me of Burroughs's impre^6ion 

 of the fox sparrow's song, which he expresses so beauti- 

 fully- He says, "I have heard the fox sparrow in April, 

 when his song haunted my heart like some bright, sad, 

 delicious memory of youth— the richest and most moving 

 of all sparrow songs." 



I thought my bird must be a thrush of some kind, but 

 did not think the brown thrasher, or red thru-h, could 

 put so much soul into a song, though he is a brilliant ex- 

 ecutor; but soon after I heard unmistakable thrasher 

 strains and concluded that it must be the same bird, 

 though he must have been in a more gentle and sublime 

 mood than the thrasher usually is. His strain was like 

 this, in words, tu-lee, tu-tU-lee. 



During two or three days last April I sometimes heard 

 a robin, as I thought, in a neighboring field singing in 

 such an unusual manner that I, at first, thought it a red 

 thrush; it said tudle ee, tudle-ee, with rising inflection 

 like a question. I called it a robin, as it sounded much 

 like one, but with a difference. The tone was similar, 

 though more mellotv, the manner was more leisurely and 

 the words different. I thought it a robin, but if any 

 other reporter of birds should tell me it was a grosbeak 

 I am open to conviction, as I did not see the bird, and I 

 had seen a rosy glow on a bird of that size, which flew 

 over the river the day before; but that was the only 

 time that I have ever seen anything that I could suspect 

 was a grosbeak. Zangille says it is local, fond of swampy 

 woods, 



March 17, Te-dee-de-sweet has returned — one 



blustering March morning lawoke hearing a sparrow 

 voice, yet not distinctly. I thought to myself, wouldn't it be 

 singular if Te dee-de-sweet should be here again next sum- 

 mer — the next moment I heai-d distinctly, Ze-dee-c7e, sweet. 



May 2Jf. — I hear the full song daily — teet, teet, te-dee-de, 

 sweet. The distinctness with which that bird pronounces 

 the word sweet is remarkable, so also is the power and 

 sweetness of its voice. 



Aug. 17. — Te-dee-de-sweet is still here; I see him fre- 

 quently, but have not heard him sing for a week or two. 

 I know him when I see him because he has lost his tail 

 feathers, and I saw him singing after he lost them. 



Tee-teedle-tee-de has been here all summer. When he 

 returned in the spring I noticed that his voice was sweeter 

 and richer than it was last summer. There is a beautiful 

 turn or roll in the third syllable of the song which reminds 



me of the hermit thrush. The oriole who imitated the 

 rosy finch was here again this stmimer. He evidently 

 admired the song of his rosy neighbor, learned the part 

 well, and remembered it. Julia M. Hooper. 



Massachusetts. 



A Nesting Woodcock,— Mr, Chas. Hallock sends ua 

 this interesting note, extracted from a letter from a Min- 

 neapolis correspondent: "I found a woodcock on her 

 nest there last summer in some hazel brush at the edge 

 of a swamp, I frightened her off her nest by nearly 

 stepping on her, and thus discovered her home'. After 

 that I visited her frequently, but never could locate her 

 exactly without a great deal of looking. I have stood 

 within three feet of her, and although I knew within an 

 inch of where she was, she had gathered leaves and grass 

 about her so similar in color to herself that it always 

 took time to get just her lines. I could have done this 

 more easily, but she would always hide her eye behind 

 the stem of a bush, so that I could not see its glitter. One 

 time I actually put my hand on her and stroked her, and 

 then withdrew without her leaving her nest. Think of 

 it, and a woodcock, too!— H. E. P." 



American Ornithologists' Union.— The ninth con- 

 gress of the Amei-ican Ornithologists' Union will convene 

 in New York city, on Tuesday, Nov. 17, 1891, at 11 o'clock 

 A, M. The meetings will be held at the American Mti- 

 seum of Natural History, Central Park (Seventy-seventh 

 street and Eighth avenue). The presentation of ornitho- 

 logical papers will form a prominent feature of the meet- 

 ings, and members are earnestly requested to contribute, 

 and to notify the secretary in advance as to the titles of 

 their communications, so that a programme for each day 

 may be prepared.— John H. Sage, Sec'y (Portland, Conn., 

 Oct. 6). 



Recent Arrivals at the Philadblphia Zooloqioal Gaii- 

 i)EN.— Ptirchasfcd-1 Chfioma baboon (Cynoccphalns vorcarim), 15 

 UU^t-n-, mom^^(^\^~ (Mf-tr/un^ nijthxju-) 1 i^ac r, ti monkev iSimno- 

 pitliecuH cntoMus), -J wtnie-throaiod cobus {Oelms hypoleiicuH), 1 

 blown (t-bns {Cfliu^ IntitrUu.^) f ipiomvs (((tinnmys pilo7 irlcn), I 

 bliick-+aile(] tiee pon iipuie ^^^}J)^lh^ i ;)« 7(U(?/n«<). 1 A/ara's opo'.- 

 bvlvb {Didelpfnis azarce),! roe Oeer (Capreolus mpraea). 4 golden 

 pheassincs {Tiiaitmalea picta), S Ri-pv-e's pheaf^anis (PhnsUimix 

 recvm), 3 vine; nffked pheasanrs (Phasiamis tdrqxMtns). 2 Ara- 

 Iw.TH'''^ vhe.asAJits {Thmim<ilm amherfitue), 1 Ivrinynr'n piTrakeer 

 (Plat ijverciia 'pennai lit), ! n>sp Mil parrsikeet (Platycereus fxlinim), 

 i i.i-.ii'i puia'-efr'. (P^ittarnta piu-iuiva) 1 M k i - Ihoa <_'i 

 rrouiitril (Icterus uvlaris), t Cuban igUHTias (Cydum mihila) 1 pntt 

 anQ.-r {V}pera arietnns) 3 tree boas (XwlioHima hortiihina)- \ 'Tt-e 

 boa (X/;j?i'jso(/irt spj, 3 fer ae lar^cp {Buthrops lanceolntii!'.) ] deadly 

 snake l Hut/tro7JS atrax) 1 stiake {Buthrops sp ). 1 ^ moo- h-tniL-d 

 tree snake (Leptoplvis Itoc^rcm). t rat snakes (Spiloti's corais'.l 

 cariDEiea tree vniife^, (HcriModryas carinatm', 1 tt'irk-neck^d treo 

 boa (Epicrotcsce?)c7tru(), I du~kv rat sn 'ke (Spilotes pullntii.i) I 

 cnpperhpad snake {Anci..-it radon contorinx), 1 !■ <iig.i unake (spilotes 

 erehennus). 1 SackenV garter sniike (Eutcenia saclcmi), 1 hUok 

 hog-nosKi snske (Beterodon platyi-liivitx atmodes), ] \mp. snake 

 (Pituophts rnelarinh'ucusi. 5 common bog-nosnrt snakes (Ui'LTodmi 

 pkiturlnnus), -4 sl isa mnkc' {Ophumturus vcntr-cdie), 5 coachwhip 

 snakes {Bascamum flageJlitorine) snd 4 common biark snakes 

 {Baseamum constrictor). PreseriTed— 1 bj'own cehus (C*hs fntvrl- 

 luH). 1 hlank snake (Pithecui satanm), \ grav squirrel (Scfurm caro- 

 hnensis).l gveRt-horned owl (Bubo virmmanm), 1 srreeco owi 

 (icoiJi.- asio). 2 goldec-^rowned Conines lOonurm nnrcu.'-). 1 mifUi 

 heron {ISycttcorax grii^em ncevtntt). 1 nuK^kmebu'd CAtfdws pniynlot- 

 tus). 1 f;l■Mv->lead^rt love bu'd (A{;aporms cana) 2 ailisiacias (Adiqa- 

 Uirmmimpfikm"'\ X Agassi z'a lortmse (Xerohatcs ngn-Wzih 1 Jaad 

 tonoiH' ' 1 dinnaoud-btjfkf'd i>-r' apni I Malmoelcm- 



■mys paiii - : : , .i wr-d ifrrapm (Ohdopvt^ iv^^cidptufi). 1 horned 

 iiZjitd I i 1 niitn), 1 ETi^ei. ii/nd uinnU^ piuuipaUs) 



Hiid 1 tii'iii;i;i]( I I (Moiopoma alledhcnimmx) Born— 1 axis riter 

 (Ce)Tiis (J'.ci.s). 1 Vjri;iiii>! i><\t r {Canacu3 vnyLnianus) und 20 water 

 snakes Uropidonolm mpcdon). 



'>mn^ ^dg md 0utf, 



Antelope and Deer of America. By J. D. Caton. 

 Price $2.50. 'Wing and Glass Ball Shooting with the 

 Rifie. By W. O. Bliss. Price 50 cents. Rifle, Rod and 

 Gun in California. By T. Van Dyke. Price Sl.50. 

 Shore Birds. Price 15 cents. Woodcraft. By "A^ess- 

 mule." Price $1. Trajector-ies of Hunting Rifles. Price 

 60 cents. Wild Fowl Shooting; see advertisement. 



The fttll texts of the game laws of all the States, Terri- 

 tories and British Provinces are given in the BooTi of the 

 Game Laws. 



A SORA HUNT ON THE JAMES RIVER. 



HOW shall I tell about it? What shall I say to my 

 brother sportsmen and to the readers of the Forest 

 AND Stream? How can I tell them of the fun we had, 

 and of the sport we had down on the James River for ten 

 days in September? 



Our party consisted of three — G., M, and Bob. Then, 

 of course, we were taken care of by our genial friend 

 Capt. Prcctor, of City Point (long may he live, for there 

 never was a keener sprrteman, a warmer friend or a more 

 hospit»ble man than Capt. J. D. Proctor). 



Having ahipj^ed our shells by express and our other 

 ammunition, we found ourselves on the morning of Sept. 

 16, bright and early, fresh and eager, on board the steamer 

 Ariel, at Richmond, Va., bound for City Point, on the 

 James River, the far-famed river of Dutch Gap, Malvern 

 Hill and Drury's Bluff, all familiar to our memories and 

 associated with war times. Arrived at City Point about 

 10 A. M., we found our hospitable host waiting for us on 

 the dock. 



Hot! Oh, my! but it was and no mistake. We were 

 expecting an equinoctial storm in a day or two to cool 

 the air, but nary a storm, and for seven eventful days 

 the sun poured its rays upon land and water and baked 

 and boiled. But we were not to be deterred by Old Sol's 

 rays, and as Capt. Proctor was ready for us with three 

 boats and three pushers, in about two hours' time we 

 started forth to inspect the marshirs. Those in the vicin- 

 ity of City Point are located on both sides of the Appo- 

 matox River, commencing about a mile above its mouth, 

 also just above Bermuda Hundred, at which place there 

 is a very fine marsh. 



In about an hour's time we found ourselves in the 

 grass and the pushers shoving us through at a fair speed. 

 We had not preceded far, when the birds began to ap- 

 pear. My man John was an adejib, and knew his busi- 

 ness thoroughly. Not only is it necee^iary for a pusher 

 to know the best places in which to find birds, but he 

 must be skillful in marking them down or a great many 

 birds are sure to be lost in the grass. 



All of our men were proficient at this, and we ecaroely 



