SPURRED TOWHEE, MALE.
Tow’hee, as a name, is a manifest corruption of tow heé, or to-hwi′, an imitative word, after the bird’s most familiar note. Chewink′ is an attempt along the same line, but Marié is what the bird seems to me to say. It is on this account alone that the bird is said to “mew” and is called “Catbird.” The true Catbird, however, always says Ma-á ry, and there is no cause for confusion. During excitement or alarm the Towhee’s note is always shortened and sharpened to Mrie, with a flirt and jet, and a flash of the eye. The song variously rendered as “Chee-terr, pilly, willy, willy,” “Chip, ah, tow-hee-ee” and “Yang, kit-er-er,” is delivered from the top of a bush or the low limb of a tree; and while monotonous and very simple, it retains the pleasing quality of that of the eastern bird. The singer will not stand for close inspection, for, as Jones says of its cousin[23]: “He is a nervous fellow, emphasizing his disturbance at your intrusion with a nervous fluff, fluff of the short wings, and a jerk and quick spreading of the long, rounded tail, as if he hoped that the flash of white at its end would startle the intruder away.”
Taken in Oregon. Photo by A. W. Anthony.
NEST AND EGGS OF THE SPURRED TOWHEE.
For a nest the Spurred Towhee scratches a hollow at the base of a bush or clump in some dry situation, and lines this carefully, first with leaves, bark-strips and plant stems, then with fine grasses or rootlets. The eggs, commonly four in number, are deposited the last week in April or first in May, and the female clings to her treasures until the crushing footstep is very imminent. Once flushed, however, she keeps to the background, scolding intermittently, and she will not return until long after the excitement has died down.
Two broods are raised each season, and the first one, at least, must early learn to shift for itself. The young birds are obscure, dun-colored creatures, quite unlike their parents in appearance, and by July they infest the buck-brush of the more open mountain sides in such numbers and apparent variety as to start a dozen false hopes in the ornithologist’s breast each day.
No. 66.
OREGON TOWHEE.
A. O. U. No. 588 b. Pipilo maculatus oregonus (Bell).
Synonyms.—“Catbird.” Chewink.
Description.—Adult male: Similar to P. m. montanus but darker, the white spotting of wing and blotches on tail much reduced; two outer pairs of rectrices blotched and the third touched with white near tip; cinnamon-rufous of sides, etc., richer and deeper. Adult female: Like male but black veiled by deep reddish brown (clove brown) skirtings of feathers. Length about 8.50 (216); wing 3.33 (84.6); tail 3.69 (93.7); bill .57 (14.5); tarsus 1.10 (27.9); hind claw .43 (10.9). Female a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—“Chewink” size; black (with white spotting on wings) above; white of breast; deep reddish brown of sides; mewing cry.
Nesting.—Like that of preceding species. Eggs a little larger: Av. size, 1.04 × .74 (26.4 × 18.8).
General Range.—Pacific coast district from British Columbia (including Vancouver Id.) south to central California; chiefly resident thruout its range.
Range in Washington.—Of general occurrence, save at higher levels, west of the Cascades; resident.
Authorities.—? Fringilla arctica, Aud. Orn. Biog. V. 1839, 49; pl. 394. P. oregonus, Bell, Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. IX. 1858, pp. 513, 514. (T). C&S. L². Rh. Kb. Ra. Kk. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov. B. BN. E.
Perhaps no bird is better known by voice and less by plumage than this shy recluse of the under forest. Swampy thickets, brush-piles, log-heaps, and the edges of clearings are his special delight. Hence it is that the newcomer, taking up quarters at the edge of town, hears this mysterious, questioning voice, me-aý? meaý uh? rising from the depths of the brush-lot opposite. He reports the sound under the name of “Catbird,” and asks the bird-man’s opinion. Or, if the newcomer has been persistent enough, he has a glowing account to give of a handsome black bird with red on its sides, “like a Robin,” and some white below. The bird would only show himself for a moment at a time, and then he flitted and flirted restlessly before he dived into cover again, so that the fine points of white spotting on the wing and white tips on the outer tail feathers were lost out of account.
Of course it is the Oregon Towhee, and the half pleasant, half complaining notes will insure him notice forever after. The bird is strictly resident wherever found, and the unmistakable blackness of his plumage is due rather to the age-long endurance of rain than to any chance association with blackened logs and stumps, as might be supposed. Towhee is prince of the underworld, not, of course, in the Mephistophelian sense, but as the undoubted aristocrat among those humble folk who skulk under dark ferns, thread marvelous mazes of interlacing sticks and stalks, explore cavernous recesses of moss-covered roots, and understand the foundations of things generally.