dete neUeD UrR ONT BU LEE TIN 3 
little bird hurrying about with anxious notes. With beating heart I would 
arrange the gathering cage and urge my precious booty within. I would 
hold it up to the light and try to see whether I had got the very bird I 
wanted. Light-heartedly and triumphantly I would march home, there to 
examine my prize at leisure, to find out (in case he had been banded in 
the nest) his birthplace and lineage, to weigh and measure him, and finally 
adorn him with gay bands that ever after would identify him for me. At 
such times song sparrow study seemed to me the most fascinating sport in 
all the world. 
Some years spring would come in January. Swamp tree frogs called 
greeek greeek, misguided bats fiittered about, canary seeds sprouted in the 
garden, snow drops bloomed, and courageous songs came from Carolina 
wrens and cardinals, and even on rare occasions a robin. And the song 
sparrows! Singing fitfully in early January, day by day new individuals 
were heard until at last, if mild weather held, all the adult territory- 
holders were in glorious song by what should have been mid-winter. 
Some of the young birds lagged a bit behind. There was Greeny, a 
quiet member of 4M’s winter flock in our garden, who had never indulged 
in song in my hearing, and I had been alert to every song and traced down 
every warble. On February 3, 1931, I was astonished to find him warbling 
away happily in a little tree next to 4M’s north rose bush. 4M was nowhere 
in sight. I went into the house, but almost at once heard loud singing from 
the owner of the land, so hurried out again. 4M had returned and was 
outraged at Greeny’s impudence. A territory establishment ceremonial was 
in full swing in the rose bush. Both birds sang, Greeny now giving short 
songs instead of the indefinite warble. 4M chased the interloper. 
Soon another bird joined the fray; he was 50M, grandson of Uno, 
4M’s ancient rival. 4M was certainly busy between the two young upstarts. 
For two hours excitement reigned in and around our garden: Greeny was 
determined to appropriate the north end of 4M’s over-large territory; 4M 
was implacably set against such nonsense, but was distracted at intervals 
by the pretensions of 50M for the southwest corner of the garden. It was 
2a wonderful transformation in the unobtrusive Greeny, the sudden appear- 
ance of warbling and immediately afterwards separate songs almost in 
adult form. 
From then on Greeny proclaimed territory to the north of 4M’s land, 
while 50M took up as his domain the sunken garden across the road from 
our house, laying claim also to our lawn. Curiously enough two years in 
succession his mates built in our woodbine on the porch, the same place 
where his grandfather’s nest had been; and all three nests came to 
untimely ends. 
In 1932 swamp tree frogs started calling on the extraordinary date of 
January 6. On the 13th they tuned up again, and the following day I noted: 
“Singing on every hand. 4M gives two of his songs in a rather un- 
certain voice. 12M’s sons, 52M and 54M, are in full voice. 58M gives his 
haunting, lovely chant, and a number of young birds sing.” 
Phenominally mild weather continued through February 1932. Sweet 
high flutings of meadowlarks drifted across the fields, juncos trilled 
