Per eA ee UebeOpuNy ais: Ul Bere N 13 
the bright colors during the winter and brightening the plumage by feather 
wear occurs in all the species of orioles and blackbirds.” 
The hooded oriole of the southwest and of the lower Rio Grande valley 
is orange and black, with a black throat and an orange crown or hood. 
It is the only oriole with the top of the head orange. The female is similar 
to the female Bullock’s oriole, but has entirely yellow underparts. The 
year-old male, like the juvenile male of the Bullock’s oricle, resembles the 
female but has a black throat. The birds frequent the chaparral and 
cottonwoods of the southwest. 
The lemon-yellow and black Scott oriole spends his spring and summer 
in the semi-arid regions of our southwest and winters in Mexico. He has 
a high, clear whistled song of considerable vivacity. His gray:sh-brown 
and yellow mate sings nearly as well as he but has not so loud or so 
prolonged a song. 
ft ai ft 
Cullom’s Winter Visitor 
By JOHN BAYLESS 
“THIS IS just the kind of crazy thing I swore I would never let birding do 
to me when I started peering through binoculars,” I said to Mrs. Amy 
Baldwin as we sat in the car at Cullom, Ill., last Feb. 3 while Anne, my 
wife, skidded along an icy sidewalk to the postoffice to ask where Mrs. Irene 
Koerner lived. 
We were there — watching a moderate snow storm turn into a sleet 
storm — as a result of a letter received by the Chicago Tribune from Mrs. 
Koerner reporting the presence of a Townsend’s solitaire in Cullom, a 
town situated 90 miles southwest of Chicago. The letter was referred to 
Anne by the city editor and she and I soon were agreed that we couldn’t 
pass up the possibility of the bird’s really being a solitaire. Next day 
being our day off, we called Mrs. Baldwin that evening and invited her to 
go with us. As always, she leaped at a chance of an unusual bird. 
Morning brought a light but steady snowfall, and we debated whether 
to call the trip off but decided to start. Near the south edge of Chicago 
the highways became icy in spots, but we continued south through Kankakee 
to Ashkum, then west on a state road covered with an unbroken layer of 
fresh snow to Cullom. 
The postmaster directed us back to the east edge of town to Mrs. 
Koerner, who, after deciding we were harmless though slightly insane 
coming so far in the snow for such a purpose, directed us to the home of 
a Mrs. Kiley, on whose feeding shelf the bird had been disporting itself 
for five weeks. By the time we reached Mrs. Kiley’s home the snow had 
changed to a brisk, peppery sleet. Dressed in our birding slacks, bulky 
jackets and caps, and shielding our binoculars held ready in case the bird 
should be awaiting us on the front. porch, we advanced across the Kiley 
yard, knocked, and were admitted by probably the most bewildered woman 
that day in all of Illinois. 
