Mar., 1914 
SOME DISCOVERIES IN THE FOREST AT FYFFE 
65 
a considerable time. After prospecting one dead tree they would alight at the 
foot of another and work upward. Flying thus from tree to tree, with a rathe.'- 
crow-like flight, they gradually disappeared from view down the canyon. 
Nearing Fyffe, along the irrigation stream, a rather favorite haunt of bird- 
life, I found two nests. The first, one of the Sierra Junco, held four fairly well 
incubated eggs, and was made of rootlets, moss and grasses, and lined with wild 
animal hair. It was entirely concealed by the overhanging foliage of a small 
cedar and alder. The second nest, one of the Spurred Towhee, held four fresh 
eggs, and was completely concealed amid mountain misery and dead brakes. It 
was composed of bark strips, grasses, stems, leaves and brake, and lined with 
fine grasses. 
Towards evening, in company with a friend who kindly volunteered to aid 
me in searching a wide patch of mountain misery for a nest of the Calaveras 
Warbler {Vcruiivora ruiicapilla gutturalis), now my particular desideratum, 1 
journeyed down Webber Canyon about a mile southwest of Fyffe. While round- 
ing a rather open hillside covered with mountain misery, I spied a tell-tale feather 
adhering to the edge of a cavity-entrance in a dead tree-trunk fourteen feet up. 
I thought it probably the home of some bluebird or chickadee, and my surprise 
can well be imagined when inspection showed it to contain a brood of Saw-Whet 
Owls {Cryptoglaiix acadica acadica) whose breeding here was not only a record 
for Fyffe, but for California. As it was now almost nightfall I postponed further 
investigation until 1 would have opportunity, with returning daylight, to make 
use of the camera. 
The weather, which had been sunny and pleasant since my arrival, turned 
cloudy next day (May 17), and for a time a mist-like rain fell. While en route 
to the owl’s nest I noticed a flock of eleven Band-tailed Pigeons in a thick grove 
of lofty pines. Farther on I met with a pair of Blue-fronted Jays, whose nest 
eight feet up in a manzanita, on a steep hillside, proved to be just completed. 
Although I did not approach within several feet of this nest, the birds abandoned 
it, for on revisiting the tree on May 20, I found it had been deserted. 
Chopping out the Saw-Whet Owl’s nest revealed five almost full-fledged 
young and a freshly killed mouse. The cavity was fourteen feet from the ground, 
and the entrance so small that it seemed the parent birds could have gained ad- 
mittance only with difficulty. Offering little resistance beyond clicking their bills, 
the five diminutive owlets were carried nearly a mile before 1 found a suitable 
place wherein to photograph them. Never have I met with more willing subjects; 
for although they could fly a short distance, they made no attempt to escape but 
sat wondrous wise, staring out across the wide expanse of Webber Canyon. Be- 
sides taking the group, one of the birds, apparently the oldest, and there was 
considerable difference in this respect, was photographed perched on a near-by 
stump. The breeding of this owl here being a state record, I deemed it advisable 
to send one of the birds to Mr. Joseph Grinnell at the University of California 
(now no. 23463, Museum of Vertebrate Zoology), while another I kept in cap- 
tivity and brought back with me to San Francisco. This bird was about the most 
intere.sting pet I ever possessed. It would perch contentedly for a half hour or 
more at a time on one’s shoulder or finger or upon some point of vantage, 
apparently wisely conscious of all that was transpiring around it. The bird had 
a curius habit of bobbing its head rapidly up and down, in addition to the usual 
movement sideways. Only at night did I hear the curious, wild, and rather grat- 
ing cry, for during the day the bird was silent save for clicking its bill off and 
on like a pair of castanets. In all, it was about the dearest little pet I ever owned 
