The Birds of Washington (Volume 1 of 2) / A complete, scientific and popular account of the 372 species of birds found in the state

Chickadee refuses to look down for long upon the world; or, indeed, to look at any one thing from any one direction for more than two consecutive twelfths of a second. “Any old side up without care,” is the label he bears; and so with anything he meets, be it a pine-cone, an alder catkin, or a bug-bearing branchlet, topside, bottomside, inside, outside, all is right side to the nimble Chickadee. Faith! their little brains must have special guy-ropes and stays, else they would have been spilled long ago, the way their owners frisk about. Blind-man’s buff, hide-and-seek, and tag are merry games enough when played out on one plane, but when staged in three dimensions, with a labyrinth of interlacing branches for hazard, only the blithe bird whose praises we sing could possibly master their intricacies.

But Chickadee is as confiding and as confidence-inviting as he is capable. It is precisely because you babble all your secrets to him at the first breath that the whole wood-side comes to him for news. With the fatuity of utter trust he will interrogate the fiercest-looking stranger; and the sound of the “sweetee” call is the signal for all birds to be alert. At the repetition of it the leaves begin to rustle, the moss to sigh, and the log-heaps to give up their hidden store of sleepy Wrens, bashful Sparrows, and frowning Towhees. Juncoes simper and Kinglets squeak over the strange discovery; the Steller Jay takes notice and sidles over to spy upon the performance; while the distant-faring Crow swerves from his course and bends an inquiring eye toward the mystery. Dee-dee-dee says the Black-cap. A hundred beady eyes are bent upon you, trying to resolve your domino of corduroy or khaki. Caw says the Crow in comprehension, and you know that the game is up,—up for all but the Chickadee. He will stay and talk with you as long as you may endure to pucker your lips to his fairy lispings.

It is no exaggeration to say that the “Swee-tee” note of the Chickadee, passably imitated, is the quickest summons in the bird-world. It is the open sesame to all woodland secrets. One drawback, however, attends its use: you cannot compass it when the air is chilly and the lips thick. Now, the eastern bird, (P. atricapillus) has a clear, high-pitched call-note, Swee-tee, or Swee-tee tee or which must be taken as the type of this genus and the calls of the western bird are best understood by reference to this norm. In the song of occidentalis the first note of the type, “high C,” is oftenest repeated three or four times, and has a double character impossible to represent on paper; while the whole ends, or not, with the lower note of atricapillus. These notes may be called the deo deo deo day series. In rare instances they become a ravishing trill on high C, beyond imitation or analysis.

For the rest, Chickadee’s notes divide themselves into squeaks, vocal notes, and whistles. Of the squeaks one is a very high-pitched, whining note, which closely resembles the keep-in-touch, or flocking, cry of the Western Golden-crowned Kinglet. The Chickadees employ this when in company with Kinglets, or while ranging thru the tree-tops when no other sound is audible in the woods. Then there is a regular squeaking trill which is oftenest preliminary to the familiar dee dee dee dee dee (spoken) notes, but which sometimes appears alone, as by suspension or change of intent.

Of the whistled series the commonest are, first, a clearly rendered kuswee, not unlike the “Sweetee” theme, but of lower pitch and more trivial character; and, second the deo deo deo day series, already recorded. There is a striking resemblance between the whistled and the spoken series. The day day words correspond to the deo deo whistles, altho they are oftenest preceded by a fairy sneeze, which we have conventionalized in “Chick”; and there is a spoken, or rather lisped, kuswee, which is very charming and delicate. A spoken trill occurs infrequently, and offers its analogy to both whistle and squeak.

These may seem like fine-spun distinctions. They are offered only to be forgotten; but the enjoyment of the next Chickadee troop you encounter will be enhanced by an effort to realize the striking variety of the notes heard.

Contrary to the wont of most hole-nesting birds, the Chickadee believes in warm blankets. Into the chosen cavity, whether natural or artificial, the birds lug immense quantities of moss, wool, hair, or rabbits’ fur, until the place is half filled; and the sitting bird, during the chilly days of late April and early May, is snug and warm.

Ordinarily, a hole is dug by the birds in a rotten stub at a height of two or three feet. The near presence of water is a prime requisite, and a low swampy woods is the favorite location. Sometimes a deserted nest of a Gairdner Woodpecker may be used; but, on the other hand, excavations may be made in green wood at no little cost of exertion on the part of the midgets. Several nests I have seen in willow and poplar trees, and at a height of fifteen or twenty feet.

Young Chickadees are such cunning little creatures that the temptation to fondle them is sometimes irresistible. The parents may have very decided views as to the propriety of such action, or they may regard you as some benevolent giant whose ways are above suspicion. Not infrequently, if the young are kindly treated, the parent bird will venture upon the hand or shoulder to pursue its necessary offices.

No. 108.
MOUNTAIN CHICKADEE.

A. O. U. No. 738. Penthestes gambeli (Ridgway).

Description.—Adults in spring and summer: Somewhat as in P. atricapillus, head and throat similar but black interrupted by strong white superciliary stripe nearly or quite meeting fellow on forehead; upperparts plain deep ashy gray, or mouse-gray; wings and tail deeper gray with some pale grayish edging; sides of head and neck white; underparts (except throat) dull white more or less washed on sides, flanks, and under tail-coverts with gray. Adults in fall and winter: Upperparts washed with buffy; brownish on sides; some white edging on forehead and superciliary stripe broader. Young birds are duller as to black of head and neck, and have a less distinct superciliary. Length about 5.00 (127); wing 2.75 (70); tail 2.35 (60); bill .40 (10.2); tarsus .70 (18).

Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; much like Oregon Chickadee, but white superciliary distinctive; range higher (on the average) than other species.

Nesting.—Nest: quite as in atricapillus and similarly situated. Eggs: 5-8, pure white, or only faintly marked with reddish brown. Av. size, .60 × .45 (15.2 × 11.4). Season: May; one brood.

General Range.—Mountains of western United States from the Rockies to the Pacific Coast; north to British Columbia (chiefly east of the Cascades); south to northern Lower California.

Range in Washington.—Resident in the mountains and timbered foothills, chiefly east of the (Cascade) divide; casual at Seattle.

Authorities.—[“Mountain Chickadee” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (885), p. 22.] [Parus montanus, Gambel, Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. 1860, p. 194. “Fort Dalles” (Baird, “Fort Dalles, Oregon”). Not a valid Washington record.] Parus gambeli Lawrence, Auk, Vol. IX. Jan. 1892, p. 47. C&S. L¹. D¹. D². J.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. C.

It is either accident or the methodical habit of scrutinizing every passing bird which first reveals to you the Mountain Chickadee. He is quite similar in general appearance and conduct to the foregoing species, altho the white superciliary line does confer a little air of distinction when you look closely. His notes, so far as observed, are not different; and he exhibits the cheerful confiding nature which makes the name of Chickadee beloved.

Gambeli is a bird of the foothills as well as of the mountains, and is confined almost exclusively to the East-side. I have not seen it on Puget Sound; but a dead bird was once brought by one of the school children to Miss A. L. Pollock, of Seattle.

Both of the nests which have come under my observation have been placed in decayed stumps not above three feet from the ground. One, in a wild cherry stub in northern Okanogan County, contained fresh eggs on the 18th day of May. Their color had been pure white, but they were much soiled thru contact with the miscellaneous stuff which made up the lining of the cavity: moss, cow-hair, rabbits’ wool, wild ducks’ down, hawks’ casts, etc. The birds were not especially solicitous, altho once the female flew almost in my face as I was preparing the eggs for the cabinet. And then she sat quietly for several minutes on a twig not above a foot from my eyes.

On Senator Turner’s grounds in Spokane—by permission—we came upon a nestful of well-grown young, on the 5th of June, 1906. The nest was two feet up in a stump, concealed by a clump of second-growth maples, picturesquely nestled at the base of a volcanic knob. Upon first discovery the parent birds both appeared with bills full of larvæ, and scolded daintily. Finally, after several feints, one entered the nesting hole and fed, with our eyes not two feet removed. Photography was impossible because of the subdued light, but it was an unfailing source of interest to see the busy parents hurrying to and fro and bringing incredible quantities of provisions in the shape of moths’ eggs, spiders, wood-boring grubs, and winged creatures of a hundred sorts. Evidently the gardener knew what he was about in sheltering these unpaid assistants. Why, when it comes to horticulture, three pairs of Chickadees are equal to one Scotchman any day.

The young were fully fledged, and the irrepressible of the flock (there is always an irrepressible) spent a good deal of time at the entrance shifting upon his toes, and wishing he dared venture out. The old birds fed incessantly, usually alighting upon the bark at one side of the hole and debating for a moment before plunging into the wooden cavern, whence issued a chorus of childish entreaties.

The next morning our Chickadees had all flown, and upon breaking into the abandoned home we found a nest chamber some six inches in diameter, with its original warm lining mingled with fallen punk and trodden into an indistinguishable mass by the restless feet of the chick Chickadees. A special feature of the interior construction was a knot, which had persisted as a hard core when the surrounding punk had been removed. This had evidently been no end of amusement to the young birds and of service to the parents as well, for its surface was polished by the friction of many Penthestine toes.

No. 109.
CHESTNUT-BACKED CHICKADEE.

A. O. U. No. 741. Penthestes rufescens Towns.

Description.—Adults: Crown and nape dull sepia brown becoming sooty toward lateral border—black before and behind eye, separated from sooty black throat patch by large white area broadening posteriorly on sides of neck; back, scapulars, rump, and sides of body rich chestnut; lesser wing-coverts grayish brown; upper tail-coverts hair-brown or more or less tinged with chestnut; wings and tail deeper grayish brown edged with paler gray; remaining underparts (centrally) white; under tail-coverts washed with brownish; bill black; feet brownish dusky; iris brown. The brown of crown and hind-neck deepens in winter. Young birds are duller in coloration, especially as to the chestnut of back and sides. Length about 4.75 (120.6); wing 2.35 (60); tail 1.90 (48.3); bill .37 (9.5); tarsus .65 (16.5).

Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; chestnut of back and sides distinctive—otherwise not easily distinguished in the tree-tops from P. a. occidentalis. Frequents thicker timber and, usually, drier situations.

Nesting.—Nest: in hole of dead stub, usually some natural cavity enlarged and customarily at moderate heights, 10-20 feet, a couch of fine bark-shreds, green moss, etc., heavily felted with squirrel-, rabbit-, or cow-hair, and other soft substances. Eggs: 7-9, pure white as to ground and sparingly sprinkled with reddish brown dots, chiefly about larger end. Av. size, .61 × .47 (15.5 × 11.9). Season: April 25-June 15 (according to altitude); one brood.

General Range.—Pacific Coast district, from northern California to Alaska (Prince William Sound and head of Lynn Canal), east to Montana.

Range in Washington.—Resident; abundant and thoroly distributed thru forests of Olympic Peninsula and Puget Sound region, decreasing in numbers from Cascade divide eastward (in heavier coniferous timber only). (We have no records of its occurrence east of Stehekin.)

Authorities.—Parus rufescens Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 190. T. C&S. L¹. Rh. Kb. Ra. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov. B. E.

What busy little midgets these are as they go trooping thru the tree-tops intent on plunder! And what a merry war they wage on beetle and nit as they scrutinize every crevice of bark and bract! The bird eats insects at all times of year, but his staple diet is formed by the eggs and larvæ of insects. These are found tucked away in woody crannies, or else grouped on the under surface of smaller limbs and persistent leaves, as of oak or madrone.

On this account the Chickadee must frequently hang head downward; and this he does very gracefully, using his tail to balance with, much as a boy uses his legs in hanging from a “turning pole,” swinging to and fro as tho he thoroly enjoyed it.

If possible, the Chestnut-backed Chickadee is a little more delicately moulded and more fay-like in demeanor than its gray-backed cousin, the Oregon Chickadee. Unlike the latter, it is found commonly in the densest fir woods. It is found, also, in the oak groves of the prairie country; and, in general, it may be said to prefer dry situations. No hard and fast lines can be drawn, however, in the distribution of the two species. In many sections they mingle freely, and are equally abundant. In others, either may be quite unaccountably absent.

As nearly as we have made out to date, the commoner notes of the Chestnut-backed Chickadee closely simulate those of the Oregon. The sweetee call is either indistinguishable or a mere shade smaller. The sneezing note becomes more distinct as kechézawick; and “Chickadee” becomes kissadee, the latter given so caressingly that you want to pinch the little darling. The Chestnut-backed Chickadee has a really truly song, but it is anything rather than musical. When the emotion of April is no longer controllable, the minikin swain mounts a fir limb and raps out a series of notes as monotonous as those of a Chipping Sparrow. The trial is shorter and the movements less rapid, so that the half dozen notes of a uniform character have more individual distinctness than, say, in the case of the Sparrow: Chick chick chick chick chick chick. Another performer may give each note a double character so that the whole may sound like the snipping of a barber’s shears: Chulip chulip chulip chulip chulip.

Mr. Bowles finds that in beginning a nesting cavity this bird almost always avails itself of some natural advantage, as a place from which a bit of wood has been torn away, or a hole made by a grub of one of the larger Cerambycid beetles. On this account the bird enjoys a wider range of choice in nesting sites than atricapillus. Fir or oak stubs are oftenest chosen, and moderate heights are the rule; but I have seen birds go in and out of a nesting hole at an elevation of eighty feet.

Every furred creature of the woods may be asked to contribute to the furnishing of Chickadee’s home. Upon a mattress of fur and hair the bird lays from seven to nine eggs, white as to ground color, and sparingly dotted with pale rufous. Chickadees are close sitters and must sometimes be taken from the eggs. They have, moreover, a unique method of defense, for when an eye appears at the entrance, the bird bristles up and hisses in a very snake-like fashion. This is too much for the nerves of a Chipmunk, and we guess that the single brood of a Chickadee is not often disturbed.

No. 110.
BUSH-TIT.

A. O. U. No. 743. Psaltriparus minimus (Towns.).

Synonyms.—Least Bush-tit. Puget Sound Bush-tit. Pacific Bush-Tit.

Description.—Adults: Crown and hindneck warm brown abruptly contrasting with dull leaden or mouse gray hue of remaining upperparts; wings and tail slaty edged with pale gray; sides of head like crown but duller and paler; underparts sordid brownish white deepening into dull drab on sides and flanks. Length about 4.00 (101); wing 1.87 (47.5); tail 2.05 (52); bill .26 (6.9); tarsus .62 (15.8).

Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; leaden coloration with brownish cap unmistakable.

Nesting.—Nest: a pendulous pouch from six inches to a foot in length and three or four inches in diameter, with small entrance hole in side near top; an exquisite fabrication of mosses, plant-down and other soft vegetable substances bound together by cobwebs and ornamented externally with lichens, etc., lined with plant-down and feathers; placed at moderate heights in bushes, rarely from ten to twenty feet up in fir trees. Eggs: 5-8, usually 7, dull white frequently discoloring to pale drab during incubation. Av. size .55 × .40 (13.9 × 10.2). Season: April-July; two or more broods.

General Range.—Pacific Coast district from Lower California to the Fraser River.

Range in Washington.—Resident west of the Cascades at lower levels, rare northerly—perhaps nearly confined to the Puget Sound basin.

Authorities.—Parus minimus, Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila., VII. 1837, 190 (Columbia River). C&S. Ra. Kk. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. Prov. B.

It is an age of specialists. The man who could do anything—after a fashion—has given place to the man who can do one thing well. And in this we have but followed Nature’s example. The birds are specialists. The Loon is a diver; the Cormorant a fisher; the Petrel a mariner, and so on until we come to Swallows, who are either masons or mining engineers; and to Catbird and Thrush, who are trained musicians.

The Bush-Tits belong to the builders’ caste. They are specialists in domestic architecture. The little birds not only enjoy their task; they have nest-building on the brain. A beautiful home is more than meat to them. For its successful rearing they are ready to forswear the delights of foreign travel, and to its embellishment they devote every surplus energy, even after the children have come.

If there were time it would be interesting to trace the genesis of this architectural passion. Suffice it to say that the Bush-Tit comes of a race of builders. They call him Tit, a name shared in common with all the Chickadees; and Chickadee he is in structure and behavior, in his absolute indifference to position or balance, in his daintiness and sprightliness. Now Chickadees, altho they have lost the art of building, are specialists in nest-lining. (A nest lined with rabbit-fur means as much to a Chickadee as does a seal-skin jacket to you, my lady!) Hence the Chickadee strain is not lost upon our subject. The Tit, further, shows his affinity with the Kinglets in a habit of restlessly flirting the wings; and the Kinglets, as we know, are master builders. But it is to the Wrens that the Bush-Tit owes most of all, and especially to the Tulé Wren, for he has taken the general conception of a completely enclosed nest and worked it out more daintily. This, by the way, is no fanciful comparison, for there is a strong strain of Wren blood in Bush-Tit’s veins.

Nest-building begins on Puget Sound about the middle of March, at a time when the shrubbery is only beginning to leaf. Early nests, like the one in our illustration, may be perfectly exposed. Indeed, the birds appear to be at no pains to effect concealment, but trust to the general protection afforded by the presence of other such masses, the withered panicles of “ocean spray” or spiræa, drooping mosses, and collections of unfallen leaves, in the draperies of the underforest. The pendant pouch is composed chiefly of moss made fast by vegetable fibres and cob-webs, and snugly felted with vegetable downs. The lining is composed sometimes exclusively of white felt, but oftener of plant-down mingled with wool, fur, or feathers.

Egg-laying may begin as soon as the nest is decently framed, or again, it may be deferred for a week or ten days after the structure is practically complete. But, however that may be, the birds never rest from their labors. A Bush-Tit’s nest is like the Jamestown Fair, never finished. The nest must be ornamented with lichens, petals, spider-egg cases, bits of tissue paper,—in short, whatever takes the fancy of the birds in the course of their restless forays. The interior furnishings, likewise, must be continually augmented. If the bottom of the nest was only an inch thick at the outset, it is built up from within until it attains a thickness of two or three inches. Even tho the eggs be near to hatching, the thrifty housewife, as she returns from an airing, must needs lug in a beakful of feathers, which it would have been a shame to waste, you know. Besides this, the male bird has two or three shanties under construction in the neighborhood, upon which he can profitably put in those tedious hours between three a. m. and sunset.

The mother Tit lays six or eight pearly white eggs, and these the Steller Jay counts quite the daintiest item on his bill of fare. Hence, of all the Bush-Tits’ nests one sees in a season, fully half have been slit open and robbed by the blue-coated thug. One such tragedy, with its human interest, is reported for us by Miss Adelaide L. Pollock, the well-known bird-lover of Seattle, as follows:

“We found the long purse-shaped nest swinging from the lower branches of a giant red fir July 8th, and every day thereafter for two weeks some member of our class in ornithology visited the castle in the air. It was woven with a silken foundation gleaned in the cobwebs of the forest, lined with the pappus of the willow and the thistle, and chinked with moss, lichen, and faded hazel blossoms. With an eye to man-fashion, the architects had papered the home, but only in spots on the outside. What a delight it was to watch the parent birds light on the doorstep with a worm and plunge inside. By the wriggling and swaying of the nest we knew there was something doing there, but we had to guess at the gaping mouths. July 17th was a dreadful day for the nestlings. We heard the pitiful notes of birds in distress as we approached and found the nest was gone. Searching the ground it appeared with a great gaping hole in one side, which told of the work of jay, crow, or chipmunk. On investigation a tiny dead bunch of feathers was drawn out; and then something moved. The nest was tied to a hazel branch and quick as a thought the parents went in at the front and out at the new back door. Gaining courage they tried again, this time with food, and within the hour had apparently forgotten their tragedy and settled down with the one wee chick. While the parents were foraging we opened the slit and the way that baby bird turned tail-up and buried its head in the lining of the nest reminded us of the ostrich.

“July 20th we saw the youngster scramble up the sides of his home to the doorway, where he perched blinking his round brown eyes at us. He seemed to enjoy having his throat and back scratched and did not resent our presence, but his parents did, for the nest was deserted at sundown of July 22d after a long visit from the class in the afternoon. Yet the tiny fledgling could scarcely leap from twig to twig of the tangled undergrowth into which he disappeared. Two days later we fancied we recognized the same family by a peculiar white iris of one parent bird, as they flitted from branch to branch of an alder forty feet above the ground.”

Sittidæ—The Nuthatches

No. 111.
SLENDER-BILLED NUTHATCH.

A. O. U. No. 727 a. Sitta carolinensis aculeata (Cassin).

Description.—Adult male: Top of head, nape and upper boundary of back shining black, with a slight greenish reflection; remaining upperparts ashy blue; outer wing-quills fuscous, the second and three or four succeeding primaries narrowly touched with white on outer web in retreating order; inner quills and coverts with much black centering; tail feathers, except upper pair, black, the outer pairs squarely blotched with white in subterminal to terminal order; sides of head, and neck well up, and underparts white with a faint bluish tinge; distinctly marked, or washed more or less, on flanks and crissum with rusty brown; bill stout, subulate, the under mandible slightly recurved,—blackish plumbeous above, lighter at base of lower mandible; feet dark brown; iris brown. Adult female: similar to male, but black of head and back more or less veiled by color of back. Length 5.50-6.10 (139.7-154.9); wing 3.43 (87); tail 1.81 (46); bill .77 (19.5); tarsus .72 (18.2).

Recognition Marks.—Warbler to Sparrow size; tree-creeping habits; black and ashy blue above; white below.

Nesting.—Nest: a deserted Woodpecker hole, or newly-made cavity in stump or tree, usually at a considerable distance from the ground, and lined with leaves, feathers, or hair. Eggs: 5-8, sometimes 9 or even 10, white, thickly speckled and spotted with reddish brown and lavender. Av. size, .76 × .56 (19.3 × 14.2). Season: April, May; one brood.

General Range.—Pacific Coast states and British Columbia (to Ashcroft), in the northern portion of its range east of the Cascades. Non-migratory.

Range in Washington.—Resident, of regular occurrence in pine timber east of Cascades; rare and local in Puget Sound region.

Authorities.—? Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VIII. 1839, 155 (Columbia River). Sitta aculeata, Cassin, Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II. 1860, p. 193. (T.) C&S. Rh. D¹. Ra. J. B.

Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. C.

Who-ew’ o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o goes the Macfarlane Screech Owl in broad daylight. There is an instant hush on the pine-clad hillside—a hush followed by an excited murmur of inquiry among the scattered members of a winter bird-troop. If you happen to be the Screech Owl, seated motionless at the base of some large tree and half obscured in its shadows, perhaps the first intimation you will have that the search party is on your trail will be the click, click, click, of tiny claws on the tree-bole above your head, followed by a quank of interrogation, almost comical for its mixture of baffled anxiety and dawning suspicion of the truth. He is an inquisitive fellow, this Nuthatch, for, you see, prying is his business; but he is brave as well. The chances are that he will venture down within a foot or two of your face before he flutters off with a loud outcry of alarm. When excited, as when regarding a suspicious object, he has an odd fashion of rapidly right-and-left facing on a horizontal bough, as tho to try both eyes on you and lose no time between.

Nuthatch is the acknowledged acrobat of the woods—not that he acts for display; it is all business with him. A tree is a complete gymnasium in itself, and the bird is master of it all. In all positions, any side up, this bird is there, fearless, confident; in fact, he rather prefers traveling head downward, especially on the main trunk route. He pries under bark-scales and lichens, peers into crevices and explores cavities in his search for tiny insects, larvæ, and insects’ eggs, especially the latter. The value of the service which this bird and his associates perform for the horticulturist is simply incalculable. There should be as heavy a penalty imposed upon one who wantonly kills a Nuthatch or a Chickadee, as upon one who enters an enclosure and cuts down an orchard or a shade tree.

The Nuthatch has a variety of notes, all distinguished by a peculiar nasal quality. When hunting with the troop he gives an occasional softly resonant tut or tut-tut, as if to remind his fellows that all’s well. The halloo note is more decided, tin, pronounced à la francaise. By means of this note and by using it in combination, they seem to be able to carry on quite an animated conversation, calling across from tree to tree. During the mating season, and often at other times, they have an even more decided and distinctive note, quonk, quonk, quonk, or ho-onk, ho-onk, in moderate pitch, and with deliberation. They have also a sort of trumpeting song, but this is rarely heard in Washington; and, indeed, all the notes of the Slender-billed Nuthatch have a softened and subdued character as compared with those of the eastern bird, typical S. carolinensis.

The nest of this Nuthatch is placed in a cavity carefully chiselled out, usually at a considerable height, in a pine stub, dead fir, or cottonwood. Both sexes share the labor of excavation, and when the cavity is somewhat deepened one bird removes the chips while the other delves. Like all the hole-nesting species of this family, but unlike the Woodpeckers, the Nuthatches provide for their home an abundant lining of moss, fur, feathers, and the like. This precaution is justified from the fact that they are early nesters—complete sets of eggs being found no later than the second week in April.

The male is a devoted husband and father, feeding the female incessantly during incubation, and sharing with her in the care of the large family long after many birds have forgotten their young. The young birds early learn to creep up to the mouth of the nesting hole to receive food when their turn comes; and they are said to crawl about the parental tree for some days before they attempt flight.

The Slender-billed Nuthatch is of rare occurrence west of the Cascades, being chiefly confined to the wooded edges of the prairies. In the eastern half of the State it may be rare locally but increases in abundance in the northeastern section. Wherever found, this bird associates freely with the related species and is especially fond of the society of the Pygmies. A winter bird troop encountered near Spokane included, beside a half dozen Slender-bills, as many Red-breasted Nuthatches, a score of Pygmies, a dozen Mountain Chickadees, four or five Batchelder Woodpeckers, a few Clark Nutcrackers, and twenty Red-shafted Flickers.

Being non-migratory (with the irregular exception of S. canadensis) Nuthatches are called upon to endure the rigors of a northern climate with its occasional drop to thirty below; but this does not give them or their fellows great concern, because of the unfailing character of their food supply. Beside that, please remember that feathers and fat afford the warmest protection known.

No. 112.
RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH.

A. O. U. No. 728. Sitta canadensis Linn.

Synonyms.—Red-Bellied Nuthatch. Canadian Nuthatch.

Description.—Adult male: Crown and nape shining black; white superciliary lines meeting on extreme forehead; a black band thru eye; remaining upperparts grayish blue; wings fuscous, unmarked; tail feathers, except upper pair, black; the outer pairs subterminally blotched with white in retreating order; chin, and sides of head, and neck below the black, pure white; remaining underparts rusty or ochraceous brown; bill short, subulate, plumbeous-black; feet dark brown. Adult female: Similar, but crown like the back, with only traces of black beneath; lateral head-stripe blackish; usually paler rusty below. Immature: Like adult female. Length, 4.25-4.75 (108-120.6); average of seven specimens: wings 2.61 (66.3); tail 1.43 (36.3); bill .50 (12.7).

Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; black and grayish blue above; rusty below; tree-creeping habits.

Nesting.—Nest: of grasses, feathers, etc., in a hole of tree or stub, excavated by the bird, usually at lower levels. Eggs: 4-6, white or creamy white, speckled with reddish brown and lavender. Average size, .63 × .48 (16 × 12.2). Season: first week in May; one brood.

General Range.—North America at large, breeding from northern New England, northern New York, and northern Michigan northward, and southward in the Alleghanies, Rocky Mountains, and Sierra Nevada; in winter south to about the southern border of the United States.

Range in Washington.—Common resident and migrant in timbered sections thruout the State, more numerous in the mountains; winter residents are, possibly, Alaskan birds.

Authorities.—? Ornithological Committee, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 193 (Columbia River). Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. XII. pt. II. 1860, 192. T. C&S. Rh. D¹. Sr. Ra. D². Kk. J. B. E.

Specimens.—U. of W. P¹. Prov. B.

There is nothing big about the Red-breasted Nuthatch save his voice. If undisturbed, birdikins pursues the even tenor of his ways, like any other winged bug-hunter; but once provoke his curiosity or arouse suspicion, and he publishes forthwith a broadside of sensational editorial matter which no thoughtful reader of the woods can overlook. The full war-dance song of the Red-breasted Nuthatch, executed, for instance, when he hears the false notes of the Screech Owl, is something like this: Nyăă - - - - - - - nyăă - - - - - - nyăă - - - - - nyăă - - - - nyăă - - - nyăă - - nyă - nyă - nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă nyă and so on, in an incoherent strain of wild excitement, until he runs clean out of breath and quits, exhausted. The early notes of this orgic rhapsody are interrogative and penetrating; the succeeding notes are a sort of trumpeting challenge for the intruder to show himself; failing which, the irate Creeper drops into a lower, non-resonant series, of doubtful meaning and more doubtful morals. But the bird is not always angry, and the nasal call sounding on migration has a friendly quality about it which brings one hastening out-of-doors to greet the traveler again. Contrary to an early report, the Red-breast is quite at home in our deeper forests. Indeed, his is one of the most characteristic voices of the solemn fir woods. He still claims an interest, however, in deciduous timber, in bottom lands, and in the oak trees which border the prairies. In western Washington, it is quite impossible to trace or to estimate the bird’s migrations, since it is present everywhere at all seasons; but it is probably much less abundant with us in winter. In eastern Washington, it is confined for the most part to the region of pine timber in summer, and altho it also winters here irregularly, the numbers in this part of the State are largely augmented by migrants during May and September.

Thru the intermittent quanking of a pair of these birds, my attention was directed to a couple of tall dead fir trees near the center of a woods, then known as the Puget Mill strip, but now as Moore’s University Park Addition to Seattle. A little lazy scrutiny descried the birds, mere twinkling bits of blue-gray, about one hundred and twenty-five feet up; and two or three mysterious disappearances established a suspicion that they were interested in a certain section of one of the trees. The suspicion received strong confirmation when, after a longer disappearance than usual on the part of the Red-breasts, a Harris Woodpecker alighted further up in the same stub. The Nuthatches immediately swarmed out and set upon the Harris with vigor and language. The Woodpecker was disposed to stand his ground, whereat the Nuthatches became highly enraged and charged upon the intruder so vigorously that the poor fellow was obliged to dodge about his chosen limb in lively fashion. The Hatches cried nyă nyă nyă as fast as they could get breath, and flirted their wings between whiles to vent their outraged feelings. Harris naturally decided before long that the game wasn’t worth the bother.

Time and again the little fellows flew across to a live fir tree, but only to come back as often to the same fascinating belt. Finally, from a new vantage point I made out the hole, a very fresh one in an open stretch of bark about one hundred and twenty feet up. As I looked, one bird entered the excavation and remained, while the other mounted guard at the entrance. After about five minutes of this the tiny miner emerged and the other, the male, I think, took her place. His duty appeared to be to remove the chips, for he stuck his head out at the entrance momentarily, and one imagined, rather than saw at that height, the tiny flashes of falling white. All very romantic, but not a good “risk” from the insurance man’s standpoint.

These Nuthatches must delight in work. They will spend a week in laborious excavation, and then abandon the claim for no apparent reason. Perhaps it is an outcropping of that same instinct of restlessness which makes Wrens build “decoy” nests. One such finished nest we found to be shaped not unlike a nursing bottle, a bottle with a bent neck. The entrance was one and three-eighths inches across, the cavity three inches wide, one and a half deep, and eight long (keeping in mind the analogy of the bottle resting on its flat side).

The birds do not always nest at ungetatable heights. A nest taken near Tacoma on the 8th of June, 1906, was found at a height of only seven feet in a small fir stump. The wood was very rotten, and the eggs rested only four inches below the entrance. The nest-lining in this instance was a heavy mat an inch in thickness, and was composed of vegetable matter—wood fiber, soft grasses, etc.—without hair of any sort, as would surely have been the case with that of a Chestnut-backed Chickadee, for which it was at first taken.

The Nuthatches appear to leave their eggs during the warmer hours of the day, and one must await the return of the truant owners if he would be sure of identification. One mark, but not infallible, is the presence of pitch, smeared all around and especially below the nesting hole. The use of this is not quite certain, but Mr. Bowles’s hazard is a good one; viz., that it serves to ward off the ants, which are often a pest to hole-nesting birds. These ants not only annoy the sitting bird, who is presumably able to defend herself, but they sometimes destroy unguarded eggs, or young birds.

No. 113.
PYGMY NUTHATCH.

A. O. U. No. 730. Sitta pygmæa Vigors.

Synonym.—California Nuthatch (early name).

Description.—Adults: Crown, nape, and sides of head to below eye grayish olive or olive-brown, a buffy white spot on hind-neck (nearly concealed in fresh plumage); lores and region behind eye (bounding the olive) blackish; remaining upperparts plumbeous, browning (brownish slate) on flight feathers, etc., becoming black on rectrices (except central pair); longer primaries usually with some edging of white; central pair of tail-feathers with elongated white spot; two outer pairs crossed obliquely with white, and the three outer tipped with slate; underparts sordid white, smoky brown, or even ferruginous, clearest (nearly white) on chin and cheeks; sides, flanks, and crissum washed with color of back; bill plumbeous, lightening below; feet plumbeous; iris black. Young: Like adults but crown and hind-neck nearly color of back; sides and flanks washed with brownish. Length 4.00 (101.6) or less; wing 2.56 (65); tail 1.34 (34); bill .56 (14.2); tarsus .59 (15).

Recognition Marks.—Pygmy size; top of head olive brown contrasting with plumbeous of back; gregarious habits.

Nesting.—Nest: a hole in dead top of pine tree, excavated by birds, smeared about entrance with pitch, and lined with soft substances, grass, hair, and feathers. Eggs: 5-8, pure white, flecked more or less heavily with reddish brown. Av. size, .61 × .54 (15.5 × 13.7). Season: May 1-20; one brood.

General Range.—Western United States from New Mexico, Colorado, and Montana to southern California, Washington, and eastern British Columbia; southward in Mexico to Mount Orizaba.

Range in Washington.—Resident in northern and eastern portions of the State east of the Cascade Mountains. Nearly confined to pine timber.

Authorities.—Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. pt. II. 1858, p. 378. C&S. D¹. J.

Specimens.—Prov. C.

As for the Pygmy, the pine tree is his home. It is not quite proper, however, to speak of this Nuthatch in the singular. Lilliputians must hunt in troops and make up in numbers what they lack in strength. Pygmy Nuthatches are not merely sociable; they are almost gregarious. Where a company of Kinglets would be content to straggle thru a dozen trees, a pack of Pygmies prefers to assemble in one. Yet there is no flock impulse here, as with Siskins. Each little elf is his own master, and a company of them is more like a crowd of merry schoolboys than anything else. It’s “come on fellers,” when one of the boys tires of a given tree, and sets out for another. The rest follow at leisure but are soon reassembled, and there is much jolly chatter with some good-natured scuffling, as the confederated mischiefs swarm over the new field of opportunity.

Nuthatches are not methodical, like Creepers, in their search for insects,—they are haphazard and happy. The branches are more attractive to them than the tree bole, and the dead top of the tree is most alluring of all. The Pygmies are never too busy to talk. The more they find the more excited their chatter grows, pretty lispings and chirpings quite too dainty for our dull ears. It makes us sigh to watch their happiness, and we go off muttering, “We, too, were young.”

Again, it shocks us when we find these youngsters in knickerbockers and braids paired off for nesting time. Tut, tut! children, so eager to taste life’s heavier joys? A nest is chiselled out with infinite labor on the part of these tiny beaks, in the dead portion of some pine tree. The cavity is from four to twelve inches in depth, with an entrance a trifle over an inch in diameter. The owners share the taste of the Chickadees, and prepare an elaborate layette of soft vegetable fibers, fur, hair, and feathers, in which the eggs are sometimes quite smothered.

The parents are as proud as peacocks, and well they may be, of their six or eight oval treasures, crystal white, with rufous frecklings, lavish or scant. When the babies are hatched, the mother goes in and out fearlessly under your very nose; and you feel such an interest in the little family that you pluck instinctively—but alas! with what futility—at the fastenings of your purse.

Certhiidæ—The Creepers

No. 114.
SIERRA CREEPER.

A. O. U. No. 726 d. Certhia familiaris zelotes Osgood.

Synonym.—California Creeper (Ridgway).

Description.—Adults: Above rusty brown, broadly and loosely streaked with ashy white; more finely and narrowly streaked on crown; rump bright russet; wing-quills crossed by two whitish bars, one on both webs near base, the other on outer webs alone; greater coverts, secondaries and tertials tipped with whitish or grayish buff; a narrow superciliary stripe dull whitish or brownish gray; underparts sordid white or pale buffy, tinged on sides and flanks with stronger buffy. Bill slender, decurved, brownish black above paler below; feet and legs brown; iris dark brown. Length of adult male about 5.50 (139.7); wing 2.50 (63.5); tail 2.39 (60.8); bill .63 (16); tarsus .59 (15). Female a little smaller.

Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; singularly variegated in modest colors above; the only brown creeper in its range. Lighter colored than the next.

Nesting.—Nest: of twigs, bark-strips, moss, plant-down, etc., crowded behind a warping scale of bark whether of cedar, pine or fir. Eggs: usually 5 or 6, sometimes 7 or 8, white or creamy white speckled and spotted with cinnamon brown or hazel, chiefly in wreath about larger end. Av. Size .61 × .47 (15.5 × 11.9).

General Range.—The Cascade-Sierra mountain system from Mt. Whitney north to central British Columbia, east to Idaho; displaced by succeeding form on Pacific Coast slope save from Marin County, California, southward.

Range in Washington.—Resident in the Cascade Mountains, east in coniferous timber to Idaho where intergrading with C. f. montana.

Authorities.—? Certhia familiaris montana Johnson (Roswell H.), Condor, Vol. VIII., Jan. 1906, p. 27.

Specimens.—U. of W. B.