16 TAHJEY -AvU7DrU BrIOINS 2 BU ll Eee 
catchers, chats, cerulean warblers (they nest here), red-bellied woodpeckers, 
dickcissels, a Bewick’s wren. Mrs. Bonney even found a Brewster’s warbler, 
of which I had barely heard, and had associated it vaguely with a difficult 
wood in the vicinity of Lake Forest, a place full of briars, mosquitoes, and 
rattlesnakes. 
We could not stay too long in the Park as we wanted to get to Lake 
Springfield before the Mother’s Day crowd would arrive in the afternoon. 
We stopped at the Sand Hill to look for the clay colored sparrow we had 
found there only two days before. We added several birds to our list, but 
could not in our haste find the sparrow. We had hoped to find at the Lake 
all the swallows, the common and black terns, but they were gone. Only 
two little spotted sandpipers were left at the Beach House. Then we drove 
to a wood where we knew there was a red-shouldered hawk’s nest with 
young. It was not very high and, although we saw neither parent, presently 
a baby poked up his fluffy head, his mouth gaping with heat. In the late 
afternoon we stopped at a cattail marsh where we found a sora, a Virginia 
rail, and an American bittern. Mrs. Bonney was overjoyed because she had 
seen these species only once before and was as delighted as I had been over 
a cerulean and a Brewster’s. 
The other ornithologists were to meet at Mrs. Bonney’s home to check 
our combined reports at eight o’clock. At seven-thirty, hot, tired, and dirty 
after fifteen hours of continuous work—on her part, at least—we were 
speeding into the suburbs of Springfield, when all at once a loud sputtering 
and hissing came from the engine. With only a moment’s dismay she pulled 
over to the curb where a couple of boys were sitting with roller skates, 
waiting for a bus. “Does either of you know anything about how a car 
works?” she asked. The one without a coat came up. Mrs. Bonney got out 
and they put up the hood. After a moment’s examination he asked for a 
screw driver and the pliers. “Your spark plugs have blown out,” he said. 
As soon as they were cool enough, he screwed them in. Then they both got 
into the car and we were on our way. I was delivered at my hotel, the boy 
at his skating rink, and by a little after eight Mrs. Bonney, fresh as a daisy, 
in a crisp pink and white dress, was welcoming her guests in her home. 
With my usual apprehensions of the unfamiliar, I had had visions of the 
strange lad driving the car and me off into the unknown. Springfield is a 
good place. 
When two other lists were checked with ours (which added up to 107) 
all were much pleased with the result, for the total was 142. When this 
was compared with the lists of other years it was found to be the best 
recorded. Bill Robertson had a number of sandpipers on his list, which 
had been hard to find in this vicinity. Other women had found several 
warblers that had eluded us. 
No doubt ten years from now the memory of the Springfield bird census 
of May 14, 1944, will have all the charm, when I recall it, that the Waukegan 
trips now have for me. At any rate it was different. 
Spring field, Illinois. 
