A History of North American Birds, Land Birds. Volume 1. Robert Ridgway
eggs of this species are slightly larger than those of the atricapillus, and the reddish-brown blotches with which they are profusely covered are much more distinctly marked. They are of a spheroidal oval in shape, have a pure white ground, very uniformly and generally sprinkled with blotches of a reddish-brown. They measure .60 by .50 of an inch.
Parus rufescens, Townsend, J. A. N. Sc. Phil. VII, II, 1837, 190.—Aud. Orn. Biog. IV, 1838, 371, pl. cccliii.—Ib. Birds Am. 1841, 158, pl. cxxix.—Baird, Birds N. Am. 1858, 394; Review, 83.—Cooper & Suckley, P. R. R. Rep. XII, II, 1859, 194 (nesting).—Sclater, Catal. 1861, 14, No. 86.—Dall & Bannister (Alaska).—Cooper, Birds Cal. 1, 47. Pœcile rufescens, Bonap. Consp. 1850, 230.
Sp. Char. Whole head and neck above, and throat from bill to upper part of breast, sooty blackish-brown. Sides of head and neck, upper part of breast, and middle of body, white; back and sides dark brownish-chestnut. Length, 4.75 inches; wing, 2.36; tail, 2.16.
Hab. Western United States, near Pacific coast.
Habits. The Chestnut-backed Titmouse was first obtained by Townsend on the banks of the Columbia River, and described in the Journal of the Philadelphia Academy. It is a resident, throughout the year, of the forests of the Columbia, and is found throughout California. Like all of this familiar family, they may be seen in small flocks, of all ages, in the autumn and winter, moving briskly about, uttering a number of feeble querulous notes, after the manner of the atricapillus, but never joining in anything like the quaint and jingling song of that bird. They occasionally have a confused warbling chatter. These busy little groups may be often seen in company with the Parus occidentalis and the Regulus satrapa, moving through the bushes and thickets, carefully collecting insects, their larvæ and eggs, for a few moments, and then flying off for some other place. They are supposed to rear their young in the midst of the densest forests.
Mr. Nuttall states that when the gun thins their ranks the survivors display surprising courage and solicitude, following their destroyer with wailing cries, entreating for their companions.
Dr. Gambel found the young of this species in great abundance around Monterey in the fall and winter months. Dr. Heermann saw them in June, 1852, feeding their young in the vicinity of San Francisco, where, however, they are rare.
In Washington Territory, Dr. Cooper found this the most abundant species. It preferred the dense evergreens, where large parties could be found at all seasons busily seeking food among the leaves and branches, ascending even to the highest tops. They were usually in company with the Reguli and the other Titmice. Mr. Bischoff found them abundant at Sitka.
They nest, like all the others of this genus, in holes in soft decayed trunks and large limbs of trees a few feet from the ground. Their eggs are not as yet known.
Parus hudsonicus, Forster, Philos. Trans. LXII, 1772, 383, 430.—Aud. Orn. Biog. II, 1834, 543, pl. cxciv.—Ib. Birds Am. II, 1841, 155, pl. cxxviii.—Baird, Birds N. Am. 1858, 395; Review, 82.—Samuels, 185.—Dall & Bannister (Alaska). Parus hudsonicus var. littoralis, Bryant, Pr. Bost. Soc. N. H. IX. 1863, 368.
Sp. Char. Above yellowish olivaceous-brown; top of head purer brown, not very different in tint. Chin and throat dark sooty-brown. Sides of head white. Beneath white; sides and anal region light brownish-chestnut. No whitish on wings or tail. Tail nearly even, or slightly emarginate and rounded. Lateral feathers about .20 shortest. Length about 5 inches; wing, 2.40; tail, 2.66.
Hab. Northern portions of North America, from Atlantic to Pacific.
Specimens from the most northern localities appear larger than those from Maine and Nova Scotia (P. littoralis, Bryant), with proportionally longer tails (3.00 inches, instead of 2.40). We can, however, detect no other difference.
The Parus sibiricus of Europe is very similar in coloration and characters to the P. hudsonicus. The principal difference is seen in the cheeks, which in sibiricus are pure white, this color extending along the entire side of the neck, widening behind, and extending round towards the back. In hudsonicus the cheeks behind the eyes and sides of the neck are ash-gray, the white being confined to the region below or near the eye. The smoky-gray of the upper part of head and neck in sibiricus is in a stronger contrast with the brighter rufescent-gray of the back, and is separated from it by an obscure, concealed, whitish dorsal half-collar, represented in hudsonicus only by a dull grayish shade in the plumage.
Habits. This interesting species, one of the liveliest and most animated of its family, belongs to the northern and eastern sections of North America. It is found in the eastern and northern portions of Maine, and probably also in the northern parts of New York, Vermont, and New Hampshire. In the heavily wooded mountain-valley of Errol, in the latter State, Mr. Maynard met with this bird in the latter part of October, in company with the common atricapillus. In the same month he also obtained two birds in Albany, in the northwestern corner of Maine. A single specimen was taken at Concord, Massachusetts, October 29, by Mr. William Brewster.
Near Calais it is resident, but not common. It is more abundant in the islands of the Bay of Fundy, where it takes the place, almost exclusively, of the atricapillus. The writer first met with these lively little wood-sprites in 1850, in the thick swampy woods which cover one of the small islands near Grand Menan. Their general appearance as they flitted through the woods, or rustled restlessly among the tangled débris of decaying trees and underbrush with which the forest was choked, was not unlike that of our common Black-Cap. Yet there was an indescribable something both in their cries and in their manners that at once suggested a difference of species. To my ear their cries were sharper, clearer, and a trifle harsher. There was none of that resonant jingle so full of charm in the Chickadee. Their notes, too, were more articulate, more like distinct words, and were brought out at certain times with an emphasis the effect of which was very striking. Beginning with tschā-dēē, the dēē-dēē-dēē was reiterated with an almost incessant volubility.
It seemed to be a more retiring bird, never frequenting the houses, but keeping closely to thick and retired woods. Yet it is not a timid species, but seemed entirely unmindful of our presence, or, when mindful of it, to resent it as an impropriety, rather than to fear it as a danger. They apparently had nests or young at the time of my visit, though I could not detect their locality. One pair became at last so annoyed at my prolonged presence as to manifest their uneasiness by keeping within a few feet of my head, following me wherever I went, and without ceasing from their close surveillance until I finally left their grove and emerged into the open country. All the time they brought out the cry of dēē-dēē with a clear, ringing emphasis that was almost startling.
A few days later, being at Halifax, Mr. Andrew Downes, the naturalist, took me to the nest of these birds in a small grove in the vicinity of that city. The nest was in a small beech-tree, and had been cut through the living wood. The excavation, which was not more than two feet from the ground, was about ten inches in depth, was in a horizontal position only about two inches, where it turned abruptly downward, and from a width of an inch and a half assumed a width of three, and a depth of seven or eight inches. This was warmly lined with feathers and soft fur. The nest contained young birds. These particulars we only ascertained when we had laid bare the excavation by a sharp hatchet. Though disappointed in our search for eggs, yet we witnessed a very touching manifestation of devotion on the part of the parents, and of neighborly solicitude in various other inmates of the grove, which was at once most interesting and a scene long to be remembered.
With all the self-sacrificing devotion of the Black-Cap, these birds displayed a boldness and an aggressive intrepidity that at once commanded our respect and admiration. I never witnessed anything quite equal to it. They flew at our faces, assailed our arms as we wielded the invading hatchet, and it was difficult not to do them even unintentional injury without abandoning our purpose. Before we could examine the nest they had entered, and had to be again and again removed. As soon as we were satisfied that the nest of this heroic pair did not contain what we sought, we left them, and turned to