Sept, 1910 
NOTES ON REGURGITATION 
167 
not, I am inclined to think that probably very many more of our common birds feed 
fresh food than we have been led to believe. It seems to me that it is worth the 
while of every observant bird student to give particular attention to this object of 
field observation, that we may have more knowledge on the subject. 
ROUGE ET NOIR 
By W. LEON DAWSON 
M AY days lack one of being “so rare as a day in June”; but if oblogists 
had their way there would be sixty-one of them i listed of thirty-one. Yet 
the luck of the oologist is as variable as that of the proverbial fisherman, 
and certain favored hours are likely to stand out in memory from a background of 
profitless days. I am no believer in astrology, and do not court the sweet influence 
of the stars, but if anyone will explain to me why a body can find half a dozen 
choice birds’ nests hand running one day and then hunt over the same sort of 
cover the day following only to return empty-handed, I — well, I will pay respect- 
ful attention. “Luck?” Yes, but what is luck? A mere name for our ignorance 
of causes. “Providence” is scarcely better in this connection, however devoutly 
uttered. All is Providence in a large, true sense, but we show disrespect to the 
Almighty if we charge him too strictly with interference among a mass of still 
unknown second causes. I think the explanation is rather psychological. We are 
keyed up to respond to certain impressions on certain days, and a “run of luck” 
follows. We go thru the same motions on a subsequent occasion, but we respond 
to different stimuli. Our eyes are veiled and our ears muffled to the sights and 
sounds that we are supposed to be interested in, nay, the very ones that we are 
striving desperately to interest ourselves in. The difference is inside us where we 
can’t get at it. After all, then, perhaps “luck” is a good enough name for this 
variable and unbiddable psychological factor. 
But it was in no mood of pale philosophizing that I dropt off the first morning 
trolley at Clover Creek, south of Tacoma, on the 12th of May last. A distant 
Chickadee “prospect” gave direction and excuse to this morning’s jaunt, but there 
was no hurry. A delicious fragrance of the prairie air and the singing of birds in 
the fir groves invited dalliance. The Russet-backt Thrush ( Hylocichla ustulata), 
belated, had just reported in from the South and was trying the copses with soft 
quits. A Western Tanager (. Piranga ludoviciana) , also days behind the schedule, 
piticke d languidly. Warblers of rare breeds, chiefly Audubons ( Dendroica audu- 
boni) , Black-throated Grays (D. nigrescens ), and Hermits (D. occidentalis) , lispt 
from the tree-tops; while one gorgeous Townsend (D. townsendi ) came fluttering 
down the sides of a great green spire for close inspection. Within the grove itself 
Hammond ( Empidonax hammondi ) and Western Flycatchers ( E . difficilis ) gave 
a comparative trial of their different notes. That of hammondi is smart and 
slightly querulous, in contrast with the lazier, drawling note of difficilis. Moreover, 
it is always accented on the last syllable, sewick’ or cleotip' , whereas that of difficilis 
begins rather explosively and continues with a musical sibilant drawl, terminating 
sharply but without accent, psss' wit, psui' hit , or szvee' ut. 
Our woods are never noisy like those of the East. Most of the vocal offerings, 
indeed, are all too modest. But we do not complain. It may be the fact that most 
of our species “catalog high” that makes us content. Certainly the sense of high 
