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Volume VI 
MarcH”>\.pril, I^O^- 
Number 2 
Two Oregon Warblers 
BY WILLIAM L. FINLEY 
ILLUSTRATED BY HERMAN T. BOHLMAN 
D uring the warm days of May when the m3'Stery of life seems suddenly un- 
veiled in a miraculous manner, I often frequent a woody retreat above the 
old mill dam on Fulton creek. A clump of firs and maples overhang where 
the limpid water whirls gurgling among the gray rocks. Star flowers gleam from 
the darker places of shade, white anemones are scattered among grass blades and 
ferns, and Linnaean bells overhang the moss-covered logs. This is the haunt of 
the black-throated gray warbler. ^ 
Just below the brow of the hill half a mile above the creek, a little spring 
bubbles out of an alder copse. Instead of trickling down the hillside like an ord- 
inary streamlet, the water scatters and seeps into the spongy soil. This forms a 
wet place an acre or so in extent over which has grown a rich growth of swamp 
grass. This is the yellow-throat’s* home. I call it the “Witch’s Garden.” 
I have a great admiration for the little feathered individual dressed in gray 
because his extreme shyness is a good indication of his finer nature. But there is 
a fascination about lying in the shade of the tall fir and listening to the fanciful 
call of yellow-throat. You may hear him and his mate almost any time of the day 
calling “Witch-et-y ! Witch-et-y ! Witch-et-y !” Yes, you may hear him but 
seldom see him. 
What a little deceiver this golden sprite is! Looking for his nest is something 
like searching for the bags of gold at the rain-bow’s tip. Among the feathered 
falsifiers this bird is certainly a leader. If you plod through the grass looking for 
a Dendroica nigrescens. 
b Geothlypis trichas arizela. 
