2 T HIE AUDA iG IN bs eee 
to sing, but very, very early in the morning. We listened with all our 
ears, but were disappointed. 
The yellow-throated vireo seemed to be everywhere. We were 
happy to hear again his rich contralto, “See me? I’m here; so are 
you;” then all-too-soon, a short liquid trill—a surprise, as it always 
is. We thought our bird joys late “een Juna time,” were over, for 
the morning at least, so left our comfortable log in the pink geranium 
tangle and turned down the Breakfast Trail. 
As we crossed a grassy unused road, there at our feet were six 
precious things, of many tones of blue, as one saw them in full or 
partial sunshine. 
Blue from the west windows in the Cathedral of Chartres; a little 
turquoise from Turkey, and a bit of blue velvet; all mixed smooth and 
soft with azure water dipped carefully from the Blue Grotto early in 
the morning before the hour of tourists. Personally, I feel sure this 
carefully dipped water was as carefully carried to Capri by a boatman 
who spoke a strange mixture of French and Italian; was delivered to a 
charming villa on the road where a great wistaria vine tossed; then 
mixed smooth with the other tones. Thus blue grosbeaks were made 
with a touch of shining chestnut satin added. 
We had seen them before in other years, but generally only a 
pair. They are usually listed as Southern birds, and attention called 
to the fact that they differ much in color in different localities and 
are nowhere common. 
And here, beyond our expectations, was a group of six, all males! 
After eating daintily a few grass seeds, they flew into a bush and 
sang the sweetest grace. The song, with its moderate tempo, reminded 
us of the indigo bunting; but the termination was not the same; 
instead of four notes repeated and of the same pitch, these grosbeaks 
had certain little terminal turns. 
All through the day we saw again and again the friendly group; 
on bush, on fence, but especially in the old road, with deep ruts; 
marvelous color in the sunshine, black velvet in the shade. 
A few seeds, then a few songs—from dear little Thank-You birds, 
singing so sweetly thanks for daily seeds. 
Paul Pueschel, proprietor of the Audubon Workshop in Glencoe, 
Ill., has designed a feeding station which automatically replenishes the 
supply of food as it is taken by the birds and thus requires less atten- 
tion than the usual open ones. A suet holder of reed and willow takes 
away the danger to birds from frosted wires which has always been a 
hazard of winter feeding. Also, a way whereby drinking water can be 
kept open for them at all temperatures will help keep the winter birds 
near you. These and other of his products may be seen at the office 
of our Society, and we think they will appeal to anyone who has suffi- 
cient interest to maintain a feeding shelf. 
