Without doubt the mind remembers longest those birds which visit the mountain heather beds, gorgeous with flowers, and varied beyond description. A bit of heather on Wright’s Peak at an elevation of 8,000 feet, yielded thirty-two species of plants in conspicuous bloom within a stone’s throw of camp. The Hummers appear to be attracted to the flower beds by color and position rather than by scent, and as sure as we neglected to rise with the sun, a troop of puzzled honey-hunters hovered by turns over our parti-colored blankets. Once a Hummer minutely inspected a red bandana handkerchief which graced the bird-man’s neck; and once, I regret to say it, fluttered for some moments before his nose (sunburned!).
The tower and dive of the Calliope Hummer produces at its climax a squeak of the tiniest and shrillest quality. It is a sight well worth seeing when one of these elfin gallants, flashing like a jewel and bursting with self-consciousness, mounts slowly upward on vibrating wings to a height of a hundred feet, then darts back with the speed of lightning to make an affectionate pass at the placid lady on the twig below. The same tactics are pursued when the cat or a snooping chipmunk is the object of attention, but the change in temper is unmistakable. I do not feel sure that the spitfire will strike an enemy, but the sudden explosions of winged fury hard about the ears are quite sufficient to put a prowler in a panic.
The secret of nest-finding in the case of Hummingbirds lies in the tell-tale wing-buzz of the female as she quits her nest. In this way, on the 17th of June, 1906, we found the first Washington nest of the Calliope, in the dense greenery of La Chapelle’s Springs, on the Columbia River, near Chelan Falls. The nest was saddled on a slender descending branch of a red birch tree, at a point seven feet out from the trunk and twelve feet from the ground. It was overshadowed by a little canopy of leaves, and was held in place not only by its lashings of cobwebs, but by a drooping filament from a loftier branch.
Taken in Spokane. Photo by F. S. Merrill.
A NEARER VIEW.
In eastern Oregon Bendire found these birds nesting extensively in the pine trees. The nests were usually settled upon a cluster of pine cones, and so closely simulated their surroundings that detection would have been impossible save for the visits of their owners. Ridgway figures[66] a four-story nest taken at Baird, California, and believed to represent the occupation of successive seasons.
Caprimulgidæ—The Nighthawks (Goatsuckers, etc.)
No. 156.
POORWILL.
A. O. U. No. 418. Phalænoptilus nuttallii (Aud.).
Description.—Adult: A narrow band of pure white across throat; below this in abrupt contrast a band of black; under tail-coverts clear creamy buff; the three outer pairs of rectrices tipped broadly with white or buffy white; remaining plumage an exquisite complex of skeletonized black centers of feathers with buffy and intermingled dusky marginings, the whole producing a frosted or tarnished silvery effect; black most conspicuously outcropping on back and on center of crown; buffy “silvering” most complete on sides of crown, wing-coverts, and upper surfaces of tail-feathers; black of underparts appearing chiefly as bars where also mingled with pale olivaceous; flight feathers finely and fully banded, ochraceous and blackish. Bill black; feet (drying) dark brown; iris brown. Length: 7.00-8.00 (177.8-203.2); wing 5.50 (139.7); tail 3.50 (88.9); tarsus .65 (16.5).
Recognition Marks.—Strictly Chewink size but appearing larger; smaller than a Nighthawk, which it superficially resembles in coloration. Poorwill cry heard a hundred times to once the bird is seen.
Nesting.—Eggs: 2 laid upon the bare ground, creamy white with a faint pinkish tinge, oval to blunt elliptical oval in shape. Av. size, .99 × .75 (25.2 × 19). Season: c. June 1st; one brood.
General Range.—Breeds from the western portions of the Great Plains west to the Cascade-Sierra Ranges, north into British Columbia, Alberta, etc.; south in winter thru Mexico to Guatemala.
Range in Washington.—Not common summer resident in treeless portions of eastern Washington.
Authorities.—Antrostomus nuttallii Cassin, “Illustrations,” (1856) p. 237. C&S. D¹. D². Ss¹. J.
Specimens.—Prov. C.
The sun has set and the last chore is done, all save carrying in the brimful pail of milk, which slowly yields tribute of escaping bubbles to the evening air. Sukey, with a vast sigh of relief, has sunk upon the ground, where, after summoning a consoling cud, she regards her master wonderingly. But the farmer boy is loath to quit the scene and to exchange the witching twilight for the homely glare of the waiting kerosene; so he lingers on his milk-stool watching the fading light in the western sky and dreaming, as only a boy can dream, of days which are yet to be. Every sense is lulled to rest, and the spirit comes forth to explore the lands beyond the hills, to conquer cities, discover poles, or scale the heights of heaven, when suddenly out of the stillness comes the plaintive cry of the Poor-will, Poor-will - poor-will. It is not a disturbing note, but rather the authentic voice of silence, the yearning of the bordering wilderness made vocal in appeal to the romantic spirit of youth. Poor Will! Poor Will! you think upon cities, actions, achievements; think rather upon solitude, upon quietness, upon lonely devotions. Come, oh, come to the wilderness, to the mystic, silent, fateful wastes! And ever after, even tho duty call him to the city, to the stupid, stifling, roaring, (and glorious) city, the voice of the Poor-will has wrought its work within the heart of the exiled farmer boy, and he owns a reverence for the silent places, a loyalty of affection for the wilderness, which not all the forced subservience of things which creak or blare or shriek may fully efface.