Fig. 180. Mourning doves.
Two or more doves may be seen winging their headlong flight through the air. These are among the swiftest of birds, and are generally out of eyeshot almost before you have seen them. (That is one way of knowing what they are.) In flight, they look like small pigeons with very long graduated tails, and when, in some old orchard or open wood, you see one rise from the ground into a tree, the white lateral feathers in the tail make an easily recognizable mark. ([Fig. 180].) Their cooing notes are well known—a high-pitched "overtone," followed by several long bell-toned
notes.
About April 1 to 10, you may hear a scratching in the dead leaves among the underbrush in any thickly grown tangle, and upon cautiously coming up you may discover the authors—not big grouse as you may have supposed, but a flock of fine, vigorous fox-sparrows on their way to their northern breeding grounds. They are bright bay fellows, with boldly blotched brown and white breasts, diligently scattering the leaves for their food of seeds, spiders, ants, and various insects. If you have been fortunate enough not to have been seen you may hear their song, which is one of the finest of our sparrow songs, readily recognizable as such, though not resembling any of its fellows—a clear, vigorous carol, often ending abruptly with a rather unmusical "clip." If, however, they have seen you, you will be treated to a sharp "tseep!" and a rear view of a flock of rapidly retreating birds, for they are not sociable (with us, at least), and generally take a hint to move on before you know of their presence. They do not stay long with us on their migration, and seeing them one day is no indication that you can find them the next.
