There was a little conversational lisping in a foreign tongue, in which the ladies of the party were included; and after breakfast the males ventured song.
Seventy-eight days later, viz., on the 23d of August, a southward bound party visited our orchard. The males were still in song, and it was difficult to believe that all the joys and sorrows of wedlock and child-rearing had intervened; yet such was probably the case.
A bird sighted at Chelan on the 25th day of May, 1905, haunted a pine and a balm tree at the foot of the Lake, singing constantly. The song ran, dzwee, dzwee, dzwee, dzwee, dzweetsee, the first four notes drowsy and drawling, the fourth prolonged, and the remainder somewhat furry and squeaky. The bird hunted patiently thru the long needles of the pine, under what would seem to an observer great difficulties. Once he espied an especially desirable tidbit on the under side of a needle-beset branch. The bird leaned over and peered beneath, until he quite lost his balance and turned a somersault in the air. But he returned to the charge again and again, now creeping cautiously around to the under side, now clinging to the pine needles themselves and again fluttering bravely in the midst, until he succeeded in exhausting the little pocket of provender, whatever it was.
In June, 1906, we found these birds in the valley of the Stehekin, and again in the valley of the Cascade River, near Marblemount, breeding, undoubtedly, in both places. Here we allowed the notes, oozi, woozi lêooli to pass for some time, unchallenged, as those of the Hermit Warbler, but finally caught a townsendi in the act at fifteen feet. There is, to be sure, a lisping, drawling, obstructed quality in the opening notes not found in the typical Hermit song, and possibly not at all, but the lilt at the end, lêooli, is inseparable from the Hermit Warbler, and I do not take it kindly of townsendi to mix up the game so.
Upon returning to the valley of the Stehekin in June, 1908, Mr. Bowles found the Townsend Warbler a not uncommon breeder. On the 20th of that month he discovered two nests, each containing four newly hatched young. Both were placed about twelve feet up in young fir trees, one about five feet out on a limb, the other close against the main trunk. In each instance the brooding female allowed a close approach; then dropped straight to the ground and disappeared. The birds were extremely shy at first but after an hour or so became sufficiently accustomed to the human presence to return to their duties within a few minutes after being flushed. But repeated visits failed to discover the males in the vicinity of their nests, and, indeed, they seemed to be wholly occupied with minstrelsy in the tree-tops.
On the 31st of December, 1905, I saw a Townsend Warbler in the pale winter plumage in Madrona Park, on the border of Lake Washington. He was with a group of Audubon Warblers feeding in the alders, but attention was instantly attracted to the tsip note, which was sharper and more clear-cut than that of the Audubon; and it had, moreover, a sort of double quality, or central turn, tsiip or chiip. This record of winter residence was further confirmed by specimens taken at Tacoma by Mr. Bowles the following December.
No. 78.
HERMIT WARBLER.
A. O. U. No. 669. Dendroica occidentalis (Townsend).
Synonym.—Western Warbler.
Description.—Adult male in breeding plumage: Forehead, crown and sides of head and neck, broadly, rich lemon yellow, sharply defined below by black of chin, throat and upper chest, less sharply above by black of occiput or hindneck; this in turn shading thru mingled olive and black into gray of remaining upperparts; upper plumage more or less tinged with olive-green and streaked more or less broadly with black; wings and tail black with grayish edgings; middle and greater coverts tipped with white forming two conspicuous wing-bars,—outermost part of tail-feathers chiefly white on both webs, next pair white on terminal half of inner web and third pair marked with longitudinal spot near tip; black of chest with convex posterior outline sharply defined from white of remaining underparts. Bill black; legs and feet dark brown; iris brown. Adult male in fall and winter: Yellow of crown veiled by olive green; black of throat veiled by whitish tips; black streaking of upperparts less conspicuous. Adult female in spring: Like male in spring but duller, yellow of head less extensive, gray of upperparts dominating; black streaks reduced or obsolete; black of throat, etc., absent, white or dull yellowish instead; sometimes dusky spot of various proportions on chest. Young birds like adult female but yellow of crown veiled by olive and sides washed with brownish. Length of adult about 4.90 (124.4); wing 2.65 (67.3); tail 2.20 (55.9); bill .40 (10.2); tarsus .44 (11.3).
Recognition Marks.—Smaller Warbler size; yellow mask of male outlined against black of throat and hind neck distinctive—female and young more difficult but distinctive pattern of mask with white wing-bars usually suggestive.
Nesting.—Nest: saddled on horizontal branch of fir tree at a good height; a compact structure of fir twigs, mosses and vegetable down, lined with fine grass and horse-hair; measures, outside, 4 wide by 2¾ deep, inside, 2 wide by 1¼ deep. Eggs: 4 or 5, dull white heavily blotched and spotted with various shades of red-brown and lavender. Av. size, .69 × .53 (17.5 × 13.5). Season: c. June 1; one brood.
General Range.—Pacific coast district and Cascade-Sierra system with its outliers north to British Columbia; “in winter south into Lower California and through Arizona over Mexican plateau to highlands of Guatemala.”
Range in Washington.—Not common summer resident, in heavier coniferous timber only.
Authorities.—Sylvia occidentalis Townsend, Journ. Ac. Nat. Sci. Phila. VII. 1837, 190 (“forests of the Columbia River”). C&S. L¹. D¹. B.
Specimens.—C.
There is a piece of woodland south of Tacoma which we call the Hermit Woods, because here on any May day may be heard the voice of this exalted Warbler. The proper hour in which to approach this forest is early morning, before the winds have begun to stir in its dim aisles, and while the hush of its nightly peace is upon everything—save the birds. The soft moss muffles the footsteps, so that the devotee may move about unheralded from shrine to shrine, as he pays silent homage to each, in turn, of those morning stars of song, the Wood Warblers. There is Audubon with his hastening melody of gladness. There is Black-throated Gray with his still drowsy sonnet of sweet content. Then there is Hermit hidden aloft in the shapeless greenery of the under-dawn,—his note is sweetest, gladdest, most seraphic of them all, Lilly, lilly, lilly, leê o leet. It is almost sacrilege to give it form—besides it is so hopeless. The preparatory notes are like the tinkle of crystal bells and when our attention is focused, lo! the wonder happens,—the exquisite lilt of the closing phrase, leê-oleet.
In broad daylight it is the same. The singers remain in the tree-tops and tease the imagination with thoughts of a domestic life lived upon a higher plane than that of earth, an exalted state where all is beatific and serene. And try you never so hard, with glasses of a high power, it is a good hour’s work to obtain a satisfactory sight of one of the uplifted creatures.