60 
THE CONDOR 
Vol. XVI 
nesting site of a Northern Pileated Woodpecker {C cophloeiis pileatus able tic ola') 
in a lofty naked tree trunk, was found deserted; cobwebs covered the former 
nesting holes of White-headed Woodpeckers {Xcnopicns albolarvatiis) in a 
much-chopped dead tree; and the Townsend Solitaires {Myadestes townsendi) 
had wilfully departed from the region that Carriger had specifically assigned to 
them. Although bird-life was abundant, I soon learned that nests of any sort 
were difficult to find, owing to the density of the foliage. Kven when located they 
were often next to impossible to reach, for here the pines, firs and cedars spear 
cloudward to such heights that one gazes up at them in wonder, like Gulliver in 
the gigantic woods of Brobdingnag. 
At various times could be heard the rare song of the Sierra Hermit Thrush 
{Hylociclila gtittata seqiioiensis) which, strangely enough, while previously un- 
recorded here, I found quite abundant. A Western Tanager was noted nest- 
building m a tall conifer, and both purple finches, Cassin and California (C'ar- 
podacus cassini and C. pnrpnreus calif orniais) , were in evidence, and singing, I 
thought, distinctive songs. Some days later I noted the third member of the 
group ( 6 . inexicaiius frontalis) , so this genus is well represented here. Of 
ground-loving birds the Spurred Towhee was by far the most common, with tlie 
Sierra Junco (Junco hyemaUs thnrberi) a poor second, for it is only in the high- 
er altitudes that the latter is found in such great numbers. 
While breaking my way through dense undergrowth, the wild cries of a pair 
of hawks as they swept through and above the timber attracted my attention. 
Their conspicuously white underparts proclaimed them American Ospreys (Pan- 
dion carolinensis) , and while they seemed strangely out of place so far inland, I 
remembered that Barlow had previously recorded them from a point not far from 
here on the American River. I was now on the floor of a wide canyon to which 
the wooded mountains on both sides gradually sloped, while above, the leafy 
pavilions towered so close and high that only glimpses of the surrounding coun- 
try coidd be had, with but small patches of sky above. On working up the south 
slope the Ospreys became still more wildly excited, but as they remained in the 
air continuously I was unable to learn the cause of their extreme displeasure. 
Several likely-looking, bulky affairs of sticks and twigs burdened lofty boughs 
above, but feeling unable to accomplish anything in Raptorian collecting here 
without equipment (or perhaps even with it!), and as it was, too, nearly dusk I 
was about to start back to the “Hall’’ when a small warbler, by its continued 
presence in the immediate vicinity arrested my attention. 
The individual, which looked dangerously (and gloriously!) like a female 
Hermit Warbler, remained about twenty-five feet up, and although it flitted from 
bough to bough and branch to branch, it never wandered far away. To un- 
trained eyes it would have appeared unconcerned, but to another than a novice 
its actions were decidedly suspicious, and called for narrow and patient watch- 
ing. After a time, however, the bird disappeared, but a slow, laborious, and 
careful search revealed a small warbler-like nest woven to a slender, overhang- 
ing yew branch fourteen and a half feet up. On reaching a point above the nest 
I was able to see it held a complement of five eggs, but as my bird had not re- 
turned, and as it was almost dark, I decided to postpone further investigation 
until the next morning. 
When I reached the locality early in the forenoon of the next day (May 14), 
the noisy pair of Ospreys were nowhere in sight. A sitting bird slid off as I 
approached the warbler nest, and lit on a branch close-by. To me it was an 
anxious moment, but my guess of the day before proved correct. The bird, a fe- 
