490 
KINGLETS AND GNATCATCHERS 
at the end. The whole may be expressed as follows: tzee , tzee, tzee , tzee, 
ti, ti, ter, ti-ti-ti-ti.” 
Muffled in its thick coat of feathers, the diminutive Goldcrest 
braves our severest winters, living evidence that, given an abundance . 
of food, temperature is a secondary factor in a bird’s existence. 
749. Regulus calendula calendula {Linn.). Ruby-crowned King- 
let. (Fig. 75a.) Ad. d\ — Crown with a partly concealed crest of bright red; 
rest of upperparts grayish olive-green, brighter on the rump; wings and tail 
fuscous, edged with olive-green; two whitish wing-bars; tail slightly forked, 
the middle feathers shortest; underparts soiled whitish, more or less tinged 
with buffy. Ad. 9 and Im. — Similar, but without the red crown-patch. 
L., 4-41; W., 2*24; T., 1*73; B., *29. 
Remarks. — Females and young are war bier like in general appearance, 
but note the short first primary, barely one inch in length. 
Range. — N. N. Am. Breeds in Boreal zones from nw. Alaska, and w. 
cen. Ungava s. in mts. to s. Calif., s. Ariz., cen. N. M., n. Ont., N. B., and 
N. S. (casually Maine); winters from s. B. C., Iowa, and Va. (casually 
further n.) s. to Guatemala. 
Washington, abundant T. V., Apl. 12-May 15; Sept. 25-Nov. 1; occa- 
sionally winters. Ossining, common T. V., Apl. 8-May 13; Sept. 16-Nov. 3. 
Cambridge, rather common T. V., Apl. 12-May 5; Oct. 10-30. N. Ohio, 
common T. V., Apl. 1-May 23; Sept. 9-Nov. 3. Glen Ellyn, fairly common 
T. V., Mch. 22-May 19; Sept. 9-Oct. 27. SE. Minn., Mch. 12- ; Sept. 18- 
Oct. 24. 
Nest , usually semipensile, of moss and fine strips of bark, neatly inter- 
woven, lined with feathers, in coniferous trees, 12-30 feet from the ground. 
Eggs, 5-9, dull whitish or pale buffy, faintly speckled or spotted with pale 
brown, chiefly at the larger end, *55 x *43 (Davie). Date, Boulder Co., Colo., 
June 3. 
When the leaves begin to turn you will notice numerous very small, 
olive-green birds flitting about the terminal twigs of the trees and lower 
growth, in the woods, orchards, or hedgerows. They resemble Warblers, 
but are much tamer — you can almost touch them — and have a habit of 
nervously flitting their wings every few seconds, perhaps accompany- 
ing the action by a wrenlike, scolding note. You will not often 
hear them sing at this season, and there is little in their voice or appear- 
ance to tell you that they are among the most famous of feathered 
songsters. 
The May morning when first I heard this Kinglet’s song is among 
the most memorable of my early ornithological experiences. The 
bird was in the tree-tops in the most impassable bit of woods near my 
home. The longer and more eagerly I followed the unseen singer the 
greater the mystery became. It seemed impossible that a bird which 
I supposed was at least as large as a Bluebird could escape observation 
in the partly leaved trees. The song was mellow and flutelike, and loud 
enough to be heard several hundred yards; an intricate warble past 
imitation or description, and rendered so admirably that I never hear 
it now without feeling an impulse to applaud. The bird is so small, 
the song so rich and full, that one is reminded of a chorister with the 
voice of an adult soprano. To extend the comparison, one watches this 
gifted but unconscious musician flitting about the trees with somewhat 
