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 Mar., 1912 FROM FIELD AND STUDY 75 My singer was so tiny and the woods he loved so. dense that it was easy for him to elude close investigation, so I came to call him my little "sweet, sweet, sweet." The school children frequently said: "Miss Getty, what bird says, 'sweet, sweet, sweet'?" So I redoubled my efforts to satisfy them and me. As the land birds of this region, one after another, became familiar to me, by the process of exclusion I concluded that "sweet, sweet, sweet" must be the Anthony Vireo, but I hesi- tated to give my convictions to others until last summer. I was making a bird excursion in company with Mr. D. E. Brown, an ornithologist of Tacoma, in the vicinity of that city, when he found the most artistic nest I have ever seen. The dainty bird was upon the nest, and it contained but one egg. This was the 5th of June, 1910. On the 7th, Mr. Brown collected it with three eggs, raising the record by one egg. Up to this time, there had been 'but one nesting record for this bird--the one described by Mr. Bowles in Birds of Washington and in Hand-Book of Birds of the Western United States. The nest owned by Mr .Bowles contained but two eggs. I had been detailed by Mr. Brown to watch a Hermit Warbler's nest for a couple of hours. In this interval little Anthony came singing several times; so when Mr. Brown found the nest in the vicinity, the secret of "sweet" was truly out. Another woodland song was just as exasperating in its solution. "Chip, chip, chip", came from the tree tops of the thickets. It usually came to my ears later in the season. That is, I heard it as a summer song. It did not appear to be a call note of the half grown birds, but rather a part of the general mature joy of the woods. So clear and strong was the note that I concluded it must come frown the throat of a finch, whose language I had uot yet learned. This summer, while crossing Anthony's haunts, I heard the familiar "chip, chip, chip". Upon the top of a second growth fir sat Anthony repeating over and over "chip", when sud- denly he changed to "tchweet". The following day I heard him alternate "tchweet" with "chip," or give two notes of one to one of the other, according to his fancy. He has another sweet note which he sometimes gives when in distress. On the 23rd of June, 1910, while following a pair of Blackheaded Grosbeaks into a fir thicket of Kirkland, a suburb of Seattle, I came upon an Anthony Vireo nest with the male bird upon it. It contained four eggs, thus raising the record to where it now stands. On the 23rd of June of this year I found another nest about a mile from last year's. It con- tained four eggs. In addition to these, I found several nests either unoccupied or just building. The female is exceedingly sensitive. Her peevish "ank, ank, ank", from the thickets may mean one of several things, namely, she may be hunting a home site, building, incubating, or feed- ing young in the trees. She reminds me of an adolescent school girl who screams upon any and all occasions for the mere pleasure of being actively protected. At her cry of alarm, the male is almost certain to appear. Sometimes he sings to quiet and reassure her. Again he comes almost to the bird-lover, looks him earnestly in the eye as though he would deter- nine the intrnder's mission there. A nest found before it contains eggs is likely to be deserted. Although the Anthony Vireo still deserves the title of "Sphinx of the Forest" given it by Mr. Dawson, we have data enough to arrive at certain conclusions. This year in early June, I saw a pair defending young as large as themselves. At the same time other pairs were building or incubating. This would indicate a late April set, or, two sets a season. While not limited botanically, the birds appear to favor second growth fir. Of the seven nests seen by me in situ, five were attached to fir branches from six to fifteen feet high and from one-eighth to one-half mile from a lake. The nest is most artistically constructed of lichens, usually some species of usnea. The lining is made of grass stems. The nest hangs from forking twigs. Little Anthony is a resident here. His song season is unusually long. The bird clans are gathering preparatory to making their yearly social assemblages or their migrations. While most of them today, August 13, chatted sweetly with one another, Anthony sang "tchweet, tchweet" or "chip, chip !"--.IEIE V. The Costa Hummingbird. This bright-colored little bird is, with the exception of the Black-chinned Hummingbird, our most common member of this family in this part of San Diego County. Individuals are first to be noticed in the spring in the forepart of the month of April, and are most often found on the brushy hillsides where there are plenty