The paper begins with a pertinent chapter entitled “Remarks on the distribution of vegetation in Nevada as affecting that of the avi-fauna” and closes with a bibliographical list of the chief publications relating to the region considered, and an excellent map of the state.
The list proper is freely annotated and the numerous and often extended quotations are always apt and interesting. The work, generally, has been so well done that we find few points open to adverse criticism. There is however an evident tendency on the author’s part to swell the number of species and varieties by the enrollment of many which have been taken or observed near the borders of the state but not as yet actually within its limits. We are aware that Dr. Hoffman has some high authority for adopting this course but we are none the less inclined to deprecate it, believing that it is time enough to catalogue a species when it has actually been found within the limits treated. In the present case, however, it must be admitted that there are good grounds for supposing that most of these extra-limitals will eventually turn up in Nevada.
Dr. Hoffman’s paper ranks easily among the higher class of publications to which it belongs and should find a place in the hands of every working ornithologist.—W. B.
General Notes.
The Tufted Titmouse on Staten Island, N. Y.—I shot a specimen of this species (Lophophanes bicolor) on the 24th of August, 1881, in a thick wood, a few miles south of Port Richmond, a small town on the north shore of Staten Island, N. Y.—Daniel E. Moran, Brooklyn, N.Y.
Nesting of the White-bellied Wren (Thryothorus bewicki leucogaster).—This Wren is abundant in Northern Arizona, where I saw it and heard it singing most constantly, during the month of June, while traveling from Fort Whipple to view the Grand Cañon of the Colorado. The birds were particularly numerous in the vicinity of cañons and arroyos, and in the patches of red cedar and piñon pine that stretch away from mountain sides to the valley ground of the Colorado Plateau. At a water-hole about midway on my journey, it so happened that my tent was pitched beneath a cedar where, as I was soon satisfied by their vehement scolding, a pair of the Wrens were protesting against such intrusion upon their privacy. In a little while, however, finding themselves unmolested they quieted down, resumed their song at intervals, and were soon after busily engaged in bringing insects to their family. Having explored a deserted Woodpecker’s hole, only to find it empty, I at length saw one of the birds disappear in the hollow end of a blasted horizontal bough about eight feet from the ground. The entrance was too narrow to admit my arm, but by breaking away some of the rotten wood I at length got a glimpse of the nest, and could just put a finger over the edge of it far enough to feel the little birds. I should have despoiled the household had there been eggs; but as it was I refrained, and for a day or two was much interested in watching the happy, devoted pair, bubbling over with joyous music as they assiduously cared for their little family, now coming and going undisturbed by the group of men who shared the luxury of this fragrant cedar shade. This was June 7; returning a week afterward, the pretty spot was a “banquet hall deserted”; so that I did not hesitate to break into the bough and remove the nest. It contained two dead young ones, upon which a troop of ugly carrion-beetles were rioting and feasting. The nest was quite unlike what a House Wren’s would have been under the same circumstances, having none of the trash with which these queer birds would have surrounded it; it rested upon the horizontal floor of the cavity, upon a bed of wood-mould and cedar-berries, about a foot from the ragged entrance of the hollow. It was a neat structure, about 4 inches across outside, by half as much in internal diameter, cupped to a depth of an inch and a half. Outside was a wall of small cedar twigs interlaced, and next came a layer of finely frayed inner bark strips from the same tree; but the bulk of the nest consisted of matted rabbit-fur stuck full of feathers, among which those of the Carolina Dove were conspicuous. These latter birds are extremely abundant all over Arizona and in the dry season they are often at such straits for water as to congregate in immense flocks at the water-holes, few and far between, which alone render it possible to traverse some parts of the unblest Territory. On the morning of which I write, reveille was sounded by the clapping and whistling of a thousand eager wings, now venturing near, then frightened from the coveted water where men and animals were crowding. In other times, the Dove brought tidings of dry land; in Arizona now, where everything goes by contraries, river-sites are many, but the sight of a Dove is a surer sign of water.—Elliott Coues, Washington, D. C.
An Erroneous Record of the Orange-crowned Warbler (Helminthophaga celata) in New Hampshire.—In Vol. III, pp. 96, 97 of this Bulletin, Mr. John Murdoch recorded the capture of an Orange-crowned Warbler at the Isles of Shoals, New Hampshire, by the Messrs. Bangs of Boston. I have lately had an opportunity of examining this specimen and find it to be a Tennessee Warbler (Helminthophaga peregrina), in the ordinary autumnal plumage. It is but just to the Messrs. Bangs to state that they are not to be held responsible for this blunder, the bird having been submitted by them to an ornithologist of some standing, one in whose determination they placed perfect confidence. Nor can Mr. Murdoch (who I believe took all his facts at second hand) be blamed for accepting the same supposed good authority.—William Brewster, Cambridge, Mass.
On the Generic Name Helminthophaga.—The change of a generic name, especially one long established, is in any case unfortunate, and in the present instance seems particularly so; yet the plain rules of zoölogical nomenclature leave no alternative. The generic name Helminthophaga, proposed in 1850 by Cabanis for a well-known group of American Warblers, was used in a sub-generic sense about forty-seven years previously, by Bechstein, who, in 1803 (Taschenbuch, p. 548), included under this name the Nightingale and Redbreast of Europe (Luscinia philomela and Erithacus rubecula); in consequence of which (no other name having, apparently, been proposed for the group in question) it becomes necessary to rename the genus so long called Helminthophaga. In proposing a new name, which I am very reluctant to do, I have selected the term Helminthophila, on account of its similarity to the one so long in use. It is proper to state here that my attention was called to this point by Dr. L. Stejneger, the eminent Norwegian ornithologist.
Leaving out H. lawrencei and H. leucobronchialis, which Mr. Brewster has pretty clearly proven to be hybrids of H. pinus and H. chrysoptera, the known species of this genus are as follows:—
1. Helminthophila bachmani (Aud.).