676 
BIRDS OF NEW MEXICO 
and bushes along streams. In the Capitan Mountains during the 
summer of 1903, Mr. Gaut found it occasionally at various places, 
but more commonly in the foothills on the south side among the 
alligator-barked juniper and the blue oak. 
At Montoya we found the conspicuous black-coated male, as seems 
to be his custom, brooding young in a hackberry in place of his pro¬ 
tectively colored brown, streaked mate. The nest, which was made 
of crinkly rootlets with a little grass, was so thin that we could see the 
young through it. On Bitter Creek a female taken August 16, 1904, 
had not yet begun its molt, although its plumage was greatly worn, 
some of the feathers of its head and tail being reduced almost to shafts, 
Its stomach contained small seeds. Another bird was seen eating a 
locust. 
At Mesilla Park, the Black-headed Grosbeak is “not as numerous 
as the Blue Grosbeak,” Professor Merrill says, and is more shy, “keep¬ 
ing to a great degree to the regions of denser vegetation along the 
river. One shot from the edge of an oat field, July 21, 1913, had his 
stomach well filled with oats plus a few beetles. The numbers of the 
species are so small that no considerable damage is done. Occasionally 
it is met with in orchards where it may take SQme fruit” (MS). To 
prevent injury to cultivated fruits, Mr. McAtee says, bird netting can 
be used in small orchards, but in large orchards wild fruit-bearing 
trees and shrubs, such as mulberry, serviceberry, and elderberry, 
should be planted here and there, “by means of which almost complete 
protection to cultivated fruit can be obtained. The chief essential is 
that the decoy trees shall be early bearing species, for it is the universal 
testimony that almost all of the damage done is to early fruit” before 
wild fruits ripen. The early bearing varieties of mulberry are among 
the best for the purpose, as the mulberry is a favorite of frugivorous 
birds. 
The call of the Black-headed is as thin and weak as his song is 
rich and full of personality. At its best, the song excels in finish and 
musical quality. One of the birds that I frequently listened to in 
southern California, doubtless singing to his mate on the nest hidden 
among the tasseled oak trees filled with golden sunlight, suggested a 
fervid but conscious human musician. As a violinist, lingering to 
perfect a note, draws his bow again and again over the strings, so this 
rapt musician dwelt lovingly upon his highest notes, trolling them 
over till each was more exquisite and tender than the last, and the ear 
was charmed with his rare love song. In Arizona, Mr. Henshaw had 
the good fortune to listen to some of the delightful concerts with which 
the birds closed each day. In the pine woods near Camp Apache, he 
tells us, “just after the sun had fairly sunk below the woods, these 
Grosbeaks ascended to the tops of the tallest pines, and thence sent 
