20 
BIRD LIFE IN WASHINGTON 
THE BLACKHEADED GROSBEAK 
Late May brings to the fir encircled low- 
lands one of the finest singers upon the 
Pacific Coast. Who can listen to him and 
lament the loss of eastern birdsongs! 
From the tops of the tall firs, clear and 
penetrating, he sends forth his whistled 
swinging rythm: “Sweet, he ro, sweet, he¬ 
ro, wh-e-e-e spirit, hu, hu, hu, hu.” “Greet, 
you, greet, you, you.” Listen to him, hoys. 
High class as his music is, his notes are 
so distinct that we may whistle his song, 
too. 
He is generous with his voice. If you 
come near the place he loves at any time 
of day, you are almost certain to hear him. 
I have stood in the marsh for hours in the 
rain listening to this artist. Again I have 
Photo by the Author 
NEST AND EGGS OF BLACKIIEADED GROSBEAK 
