In despair, one day, I determined to penetrate this supramundane region where the Hermit is at home, and selected for the purpose a well branched tree in the center of the forest and some hundred and fifty feet in height. The tree was, fortunately, of the tougher sort, and permitted ascent to a point where the stem might be grasped with the finger and thumb of one hand. It was a treat to see the forest as a bird does. The surface viewed from above was surprisingly uneven. Here and there strong young trees, green and full of sap, rose to the level of mine, but the majority were lower, and some appeared like green rosettes set in a well of green. Others still, rugged and uneven as to limb, towered above my station by fifty or seventy-five feet. My first discovery upon reaching the top was that the bulk of the bird chorus now sounded from below. But a few singing Hermits did occupy stations more lofty than mine. One I marked down—rather, up—fifty feet above and a hundred yards away. He sang away like a contented eremite from a single twig, and I was reverently constructing his high biography and trying to pick out his domicile from the neighboring branches, when flash! he pitched headlong two hundred feet and was seen no more.
HERMIT WARBLERS.
Mr. Bowles has hit upon a clever scheme for decoying the haughty Hermits. He resorts to the vicinity of some Cassin Vireo’s nest containing young, and studies the throng of small birds, which the masterly scolding of the Vireos invariably attracts. Upon one such occasion, having lured down an inquisitive pair, he noticed a peculiar trait: “After examining me closely and apparently deciding that I was a new kind of stump, the female commenced feeding; but her attention was soon attracted to a last year’s nest of a Russet-backed Thrush. She at once flew to it and, hopping in, crouched down and commenced trampling the bottom, turning around, putting the material on the sides into shape with her bill, and altogether acting as tho she had nest-building well under way. This was about the middle of May, and, as I subsequently discovered, almost a month too early for her to lay her eggs.”[27]
The nest of this species is still rare. The only one taken in Washington was found by Mr. Bowles, June 11, 1905, in a fir tree near Tacoma, and contained five eggs, the only set of five yet recorded. The nest was placed at a height of twenty feet on a horizontal limb six feet from the trunk of the tree. Mr. Bowles had seen the tail of the bird from below as it projected over the brim of the nest, and prepared himself to inspect “another of those Audubons.” When, instead of the yellow crown-patch of an Audubon, he saw the lemon-yellow head of a Hermit, the oölogist nearly fainted from surprise and joy. The bird sat so close that the collector was obliged to lift her from the nest, and she then flew only a few feet, where she remained, chipping and spreading her wings and tail. The male at no time put in an appearance.
The nesting range of this species is still imperfectly made out. We found it common at Newport in Stevens County, and among the pines and larches of the Calispell range. We counted them common in the valley of the Stehekin also, but soon encountered that peculiar plagiarism of song, on the part of the Townsend Warbler, which queered all our local conclusions. In order, therefore, to guide the student in further investigations. I record a few variant song forms which I have clearly traced to the Hermit Warbler: Zeegle, zeegle, zeegle, zeet, fuzzy and low like that of D. nigrescens—this was heard at Tacoma and is recognized by C. W. Bowles as being the type form of southern Oregon songs; dzee dzeé, tzibid-zeedzeé, dzee dzeé, in a sort of sing-song rollick: dzudzudzudzudzeêo zeêo zeet—first syllables very rapid, musical; nasal turn to accented notes very like the “ping” note of the Creeper song, and occupying much the same position save that it is repeated; days, days, days, days zeêt—the first notes lisping, with slight accelerando, and the nasal ringing quality reserved for the last.
No. 79.
TOLMIE’S WARBLER.
A. O. U. No. 680. Oporornis tolmiei (Townsend).
Synonym.—Macgillivray’s Warbler.
Description.—Adult male in spring and summer: Fore-parts in general, including head and neck all around and chest, blackish slate or slate gray; extreme forehead and lores jet black; feathers of lower chest slate-black narrowly fringed with ashy gray; extreme chin usually white; a sharp touch of white on upper eyelid behind and a longer one on lower lid; remaining plumage bright greenish yellow to olive-green, clearest yellow, canary to olive-yellow, on breast and remaining underparts, centrally, and on bend of wing, shading thru yellowish olive green on sides to olive-green of upperparts; outer primary edged with white on outer web. Bill dusky brown above, paler below; feet and legs light brown; iris brown. Adult male in fall and winter:: Similar but feathers of auriculars and hindneck and sometimes crown tipped with dull brown; ashy skirtings of throat and chest more extensive, sometimes nearly concealing the black. Adult female in spring: Like male but slate of hood replaced by dull brownish gray (mouse gray) above and by pale brownish gray on chin, throat and chest. In fall plumage still more extensively gray below. Young females lack the hood altogether being simply olive green on crown, yellow on throat, etc. Length about 5.50 (139.7); wing 2.44 (62); tail 2.16 (55); bill .45 (11.4); tarsus .85 (21.6).
Recognition Marks.—Warbler size; slaty hood of male distinctive; contrast of color between chest and breast usually apparent. A frequenter of thickets, with a sharp tsick or chuck note of alarm.
Nesting.—Nest: in thickets in upright crotch of bush from six inches to three feet from ground; a bulky affair of coarse dead grass, rootlets and trash, lined with fine black rootlets and horse-hair; measures, outside, 4½, wide by 2½ deep, inside, 2½, wide by 1¼ deep. Eggs: 3-5, usually 4, dull white, heavily marked around larger end with reddish browns and lavender. Av. size, .70 × .54 (17.8 × 13.7). Season: first week in June; one brood.
General Range.—Western United States and British Columbia breeding south to Arizona and western Texas; east during migrations to western Nebraska, etc.; south in winter to Cape St. Lucas and over whole of Mexico and Central America to Colombia (Bogota).
Range in Washington.—Summer resident in dense thickets thruout the State from sea level to about 2,000 feet elevation.
Authorities.—Sylvia tolmiei Townsend, Narrative, April 1839, 343 (Columbia River). C&S. L¹. Rh. D¹. Sr. Ra. D². Ss². Kk. J. B. E.
Specimens.—U. of W. P. Prov. B. E.
We shall have to import the word “chaparral” if we are to characterize with any brevity the sort of cover this Warbler loves. A great confusion of willow, alder, dogwood, syringa, ocean-spray, and huckleberry is his delight. It matters not whether it be a hillside in King County, a lonesome spring draw in the hills of Klickitat, or the borders of a swamp in Okanogan, if only there be cover and plenty of it. No more persistent skulker haunts the shrubbery than this wary, suspicious, active, and very competent Wood Warbler. Yet even he, when he thinks no one is looking, emerges from his shrubbery depths, selects a topmost twig and breaks out in song,—a song which is neither diffident nor uncertain. Sheep sheep sheep shear shear sheep, he announces in a brisk, business-like tone, totally devoid of musical quality. And when you have heard him once, or, say, a hundred times, you have learned all that may be known of the Tolmie Warbler—out of cover. Those who know the Dickcissel of the middle West will at once be struck with the close similarity of its song, altho it must be admitted that the Warbler’s is lighter in quality and less wooden. Practically, the only variety is in the number of syllables and in the number and distribution of the r’s; thus, Sheep, sheep, shear, shear, sheep; Sheep, sheep, shear, shear, sheep, sheep; and, a shade more emphatic, Jick, jick, jick, jick, shear, sheep.
For all we see so little of the Tolmie Warbler, the converse is by no means true. That is to say, the bird does see a great deal of us if we frequent the thickets. Whenever there is anything doing in his vicinity, the Warbler promptly and silently threads the intervening mazes, takes observations of the disturber from every angle, and retires with, at most, a disapproving chuck. In the fall of the year discipline is somewhat relaxed, and a little judicious screeping in the shrubbery will call up platoons of these inquisitive Warblers.