no 
THE CONDOR 
| Vol. VIII 
remarked, it closely resembled a chipping sparrow’s, both in position and struc- 
ture. It was on horizontal twigs against the main stem, and sat loosely in place. 
It was made externally of coarse weed-stems, within which were fine grass stems 
and a lining of white horsehair, all well-rounded and with substantial walls. The 
cavity was 1.75 inches in diameter and 1.25 inches deep. There were 5 eggs, 
but the dull white surface indicated that they were far advanced in incubation. 
When fresh they were probably faintly pinkish white, speckled all over with red- 
dish and dark brown, sparsely over the smaller end and most of the surface, heav- 
ily on the larger end. I feared that I should not be able to save them as good 
specimens, but I wanted to photograph them well, so I carried them in. It was 
also likely that the birds would nest again in the same locality, and I would have 
another chance for a good set. 
A day or two later I watched a male Townsend moving about and singing in 
a standard yellow pine. I had no glasses with me, but during the fifteen minutes 
I devoted to him he kept in the lower branches of the tree, and I had no difficulty 
in observing him. He was very leisurely in his movements, seldom flitting far, 
gleaning from the twigs and needles, and stopping to sing seven or eight times 
per minute. The song as I heard it ran like this: Ree , ree, ree, ee, eh, cheet eh 
chee — with emphasis on the cheet. The singing varied in the number of opening 
ree notes, and apparently when a syllable is dropped in the opening another is 
added in the ending. Frequently after the song he added a quiet, hurried, chat- 
tering soliloquy. Thinking that he might hurry homeward after his recital, I 
waited to follow him, but he merely moved to the next tree to continue his per- 
formance, and I wandered on my way. 
The next morning I spent two hours following the movements of a singing 
male Townsend, searching the firs below ashesangin the tops of the taller conifers . 
It appeared that he was simply out to forage and sing, for in the given time he 
covered about a hundred yards of rugged hillside, and I was tired enough to give 
up the search. Other males were singing, and at one time I heard four which 
were probably within a radius of one hundred yards of me. My experience leads 
me to conclude that nests in the small firs are exceptions, but thus far I have 
given exclusive attention to them. The song of this warbler is the prevailing one 
now in the high coniferous trees. 
June 5. — To-day an Audubon warbler gave as pretty an exhibition of mater- 
nal instinct as I ever witnessed in a small bird. She was sitting on her nest 
twelve feet up in a fir tree. As I gave the tree a shake, she fairly fell out and 
alighted prone on the ground under a nearby sapling, where she sprawled with 
quivering, outspread wing and expanded tail. In the same place she lay for a 
short time, then fluttered several inches away and continued her display. Thus 
she fluttered around me, always flitting in view with this demonstration and 
fluttering out of sight. Of course I knew what it meant — young birds in the nest; 
but from force of habit I went up the bending pole of the fir. The feathers pro- 
truding over the brim would have established the identity of the nest, if I had not 
known the parent bird. My suspicions were verified when I felt in the nest, for 
my fingers closed over the warm bodies of recently hatched younglings. Thus in 
the same week I found fresh eggs of the Audubon warbler, and young birds as 
well. But I haven’t yet found fresh eggs of the Townsend. 
Lewisttm'n, Montana. 
