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A Warbler in September 
By MARGARET MorsE NICE 
We are oppressed by the silent ranks of giant ragweed, 
Without a flower, with no sound of bird. 
When suddenly — the gleam of a golden body, 
Tiny, exquisite, against the great dank weeds. 
You little bit of dauntless faith, 
Who have come from far away on your journey to distant lands, 
All hail to your high courage, lovely bird! 
Who have given us a glimpse of unforgettable beauty. 
5725 Harper Ave., Chicago 37, Illinois 
ff ii A 
Orientation of an Olive-Backed Thrush 
By Karu FE. BARTEL 
ON SEPTEMBER 1, 1952, I took an Olive-backed Thrush (Hylocichla ustulata 
swainsont) out of a one cell trap. It must have been in the trap over three 
hours; its feathers were wet and bedraggled from a heavy rainstorm a 
short time before. I placed the wet bird in a gathering caee to dry off. 
About one hour later, at 6:00 p.m., I banded it. 
As soon as the thrush was released, it flew to an apple tree 20 feet 
away and looked at me for about two minutes, then took off in a south- 
westerly direction, ascending rapidly. After it flew about 1000 feet in that 
direction, it started to fly in circles, retracing its fiight almost to where it 
had left the apple tree. 
The bird flew in circles over the point of release, and after six or seven 
circles headed in a southeasterly direction, flying a zig-zag course. This 
continued until I could hardly see the bird with the naked eye. I believe 
the bird at this time must have been at least 2000 to 3000 feet away. It 
then took a course which seemed to be north-by-east. The bird by this time 
was only a speck in the sky, and I knew that if I took my eyes off of it 
I would lose it. 
During this north- Ee ata flight the bird only zig-zagged a few times. 
About the time the bird flew parallel east of me, I lost it. All this took 
about five minutes after the bird left the apple tree. 
The thrush seemed to want to go south, but apparently could not find 
the orientation needed to do so. There is an F'M radio station *4 mile north- 
east of my banding station, and I believe that the radio waves so destroyed 
or altered the bird’s sense of direction that it flew in this uncertain manner. 
When the bird was seen last, it was heading toward the radio station, which 
was northeast of where the bird was released. 
2528 W. Collins St., Blue Island, Illinois 
